#boy needs a hug so bad

[shower-phantom-ideas]

God can u imagine bruce just having this blank face of confusion. Then maybe he thinks the other ghost was messing with him so he just admits to Phantom what happened. Like “hey chum im sorry I didn’t mean to step all over you like that it’s just some ghost kidnapped me and told me you are two years old? Told me you imprinted on me and im your parent now. He seemed so serious I believed it. I don’t wanna be a helicopter parent. I will try to respect your boundaries bucko”

Queue Danny getting his cute lil green blushy cause wtf he imprinted on The Batman!!! Who told Batman his dead age?!??? Oh geeze how awkward.

“Uhhhh ok so listen. Im not “two years old” thats just my death age so im 16 ok”

Batman gets a moment of relief until it clicks that this kid died at 14. Hes always around too so does that mean he is alone? No one else to go to? Is Batman the first one to show compassion to the point the kid would imprint on him??!? Jail ghost said Phantom picked him so does this mean Bruce is the first person Phantom saw as a parent figure. Oh god but he was horrible to him in the beginning. What kinda after life this kid been living.

The Batman gets locked up in walkers prison! 😲

Walker left the zone to arrest him too why? Because clearly he is neglecting the child king! Smh. 😔 Walker greatly respects the rules but now that King Phantom is in place he respects something more. This child has brought order back to the zone (not really he kinda just wrote off some rules for Walker to enforce to get him out of his hair) and even after Walker imprisoned him too! So now hes back to his old ways of bending the rules to fit his whims. But this weird Bat Man person is deserving of a harsh punishment, that or a good thrashin’, for how hes done gone and treated their new King! Can’t the man tell the boy has a familial bond with ‘em? For cryin out loud the youngin already gave em core charm! No all the others can clearly see plain as day that hes apart of the boys family. (Danny made Batman an ice ward that helps protect from other ghosts… or so he thought oops it’s telling all the other ghosts that hes Danny fam)

Yet despite all this the man still is refusing to bring the kid into his fold. You don’t just go on and do that to a young one. Their King is only a baby and now this man has gone and ignored him like hes plans to go out to get some milk and never come back. Can’t he see how this is affecting his development? Walker wont have anyone doin that to his ghost King No Sir. Hes gonna education this man himself if he has to. Rehabilitation is something he can do. It’s within his jurisdiction after all.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Watching "Bad Territory" and "Paths Unknown" from a mental health perspective really dials up the angst. It's so obvious that the Batch all really need therapy and it's sad to see them all struggle. So much has changed over the past year for them and by season 3, the cracks really show more than ever. Because they're so used to the solider life, pretty much all of them, particularly Crosshair, internalizes their pain to the point of self-destruction. They don't want to talk about it and it affects all of them.

Hunter's inability to keep his squad together after Order 66 happens takes a big toll on him. He directs all his energy at Omega and losing her in season 2 really pushes him over the edge. Instead of talking about it, he begins to act more recklessly. Hunter also has to deal with seeing Crosshair get turned against him and choose that at the end of season 1. There's also a lot of guilt he probably feels about leaving Cross and seeing the Batch's numbers dwindle. Going back to Omega, she probably gave him something to hold on to. She gives him a purpose despite all the guilt and pain he feels.

Crosshair is the most sensitive of the Batch in my opinion. He internalizes a lot and holds on to it. He lets it fester and I think he does so much more Hunter. Omega is the only person he feels comfortable enough to be truly vulnerable around. He has his moments with Hunter, but it's not on the same level as Omega. But even with her, he's so haunted by what happened to him that he doesn't want to talk about it. He also deflects a lot, putting himself down or lashes out to protect himself. One of the reasons why I loved the meditation sequence is because he slowly begins to find peace of mind. That's really going to help him when he eventually opens up.

Wrecker had to become more mature and the voice of reason for Hunter. While he has his jokey moments, he's much quieter and reserved. He knows he has to be strong for Hunter, just like Omega is for Crosshair. There's something sad to see the most jolly and upbeat characters become more quiet and serious. It shows just how dark things have become.

Speaking of Omega, she's not ok. Between her past and whatever else she went through on Tantiss, there is a lot going on in that little head of hers. She feels guilty for leaving the other clones behind and she went through/saw some very bad stuff. However, she's neglecting her own mental needs for two reasons in my opinion. #1: she's trying to not worry her brothers. She knows her absence affected them. I can imagine she doesn't want to feel guilty about putting more stress on them. #2: she's trying to be strong for Crosshair. Crosshair is the most outward with his mental struggles because it manifests as psychosomatic tremors. That and he pretty much lost all hope after being imprisoned. Omega selflessly puts her own needs aside to be there for him because she knows he's hurting more than he says he is. But how long will keeping up a brave face last for our little sunshine?

I really think "Identity Crisis" will force many of these characters like Cross or Omega to finally open up. They can't hide it forever. Crosshair in particular will have to confront his trauma if he wants his hand to slowly heal. It's a long journey though.

If we compare the Batch in CW vs. TBB S3, it's crazy to think how much they've changed since then. They're all struggling deeply. However, they have each other for support and sometimes, that's the best place to start for healing.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

”Who’s this then?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know, and only to hear the excitement in Jamie’s voice as he tells her all about Roy Kent.

She’s a City girl through and through and it is a little jarring to see different colours up on her wall, but that’s what being a parent is all about, isn’t it? Loving someone enough to love what they love, even if it turns out to be the captain of bloody Chelsea. 

--- 

Posters come and go, there are girls and footballers and other girls and other footballers and then others still, but Roy Kent stays where he is, slap bang in the middle and staring right at her with those weirdly intense eyes whenever she gets in the room to hoover.

Needs to relax a bit, that one, she thinks, more than once. For all the pictures and clips Jamie has shown her, she’s never seen Kent smile. Plays like a god, though, one of those vengeful ones, so she guesses she can see the attraction.

---

It’s obvious that Jamie’s not happy, and she’s not either, what with having him move down all the way to London to play for AFC Richmond of all teams. Still, she supposed a loan make sense, get him more minutes and bit of experience.

“Didn’t Roy Kent move there after he quit Chelsea?” she asks, and is pleased with the way Jamie’s eyes light up a little at that. “You’ll get to play together now.”

---

“He’s a nasty bastard. Right fucking bitter about not being as good as he was, yeah?”

She doesn’t hear much more about Roy Kent after that, not for another year or so. Doesn’t hear much from Jamie at all, really, not even after he returns to Manchester. When he does stop by – for Christmas, for her birthday – he talks about just about anything but football. Doesn’t mention fighting Kent on the pitch, doesn’t say a word about calling him a knob on national television.

Doesn’t take the poster down either, though, she notices when he’s gone.

---

“Jamie Tartt is a muppet and I hope he dies of the incurable condition of being a little bitch,” Roy Kent says and she’s already halfway out the sofa when Simon’s hand on her arm holds her back.

“If Jamie wants it down he’ll take it down,” her husband tells her.

---

She sees her son crouching, defeated, on Wembley grass, and her heart breaks for him. Two days later he’s outside her door and in her arms and he’s talking like he hasn’t talked to her since he was loaned to Richmond and her heart breaks for him all over again.

She can’t wish she had never gotten with his wanker of a father, for how can she, when she got Jamie out if? Still, there’s no stopping her from wishing James falls down a sewer and drowns in shit, gagging on it as he goes.

“And I’m just standing there, like I couldn’t move or something, right, but then Roy walks over and I though he was going to fucking punch me, but he just hugged me, like really tight, and I fucking bawled my eyes out. Dead embarrassing, it was, but… made me feel safe, too. Made me think of you.”

She stops flipping the poster off, after that

---

“So Roy offered to train me, special,” Jamie says, and she thinks it sounds a bit like torture personally, the things Kent is apparently having him do in the middle of the bloody night, but Jamie’s nothing but enthusiasm and barely contained pride so she’s happy for him.

---

She knows that other parents might have been surprised to see their son befriend and then bring home people whose pictures he still has on his wall, but their sons are not Jamie, are they?

Roy Kent proves far less domineering than she might have suspected. Doesn’t shout once, is polite about Simon’s baking, and tells her he loves her before he leaves. Definitively has some issues, but seems a nice enough lad for all of that.

--- 

Simon drives them down to London for Jamie’s 26:th birtday and it’s only the third time she’s ever been to his Richmond home. As she exits the car, Roy Kent exits Jamie’s front door and pauses at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s a bit endearing, the way he sounds unsure, like he doesn’t know what to make of her or how to act around her.

No need for any of that, though.

“There he is,” she exclaims, adding, “I’m going to hug you now,” before doing just that.

His body is solid and hard and held so fucking stiff, but after just a moment – surprisingly quickly, really – he relaxes into the embrace, like maybe it’s one he’s been wanting for a very long time. He holds her tight and she lets him and she can see what Jamie means about him being a great hugger.  

Eventually, she gently pulls back a little, so she can smile up at him as she says, “Thank you.”

Off his furrowed brow, she continues, “For what you’ve done for our Jamie. I know it’s meant a lot to him, you training him and being his friend and everything.” 

“Oh. Jamie’s told you about that, has he?”

And she must raise her eyebrows at that, kindly but incredulously. “Of course he has, love. Never shuts up about you, does he?”

As it turns out, Roy Kent does know how to smile after all.

[httpiastri]

them!!!!!

[doodlyreone]

< 2

[createandconstruct]

*shakes you*

I LOVE YOUR DADMIGHT STORIES SO MUCH AND THEN I COME ON HERE AND SEE YOU HAVE HEADCANONS?!?!

Yes. Amazing.

I read something about angst headcanons?! Would you like to share with the class?????

I would absolutely love to share with the class.

Something on my brain since forever is Toshinori learning Izuku was the most seriously injured from the summer camp attack

There's no time to rest or even breathe. Toshnori has to keep pushing ahead because it's not over. Bakugou has been taken and Toshinori won't stop until the child is safe and out of the villains' grasp. There's no time to make a personal visit for only his successor as he recovers.

But he ends up at the hospital anyway. Tsukauchi informs him that Yaoyorozu has something she wants to share that she believes will help with the rescue.

They speak with the young girl in awe of her quick thinking and resilience as she hands over the tracker. It truly feels like everything for their counterattack is coming together.

But then they get into the hall. Tsukauchi with tracker in hand, ready to call their special unit and head out, when Toshinori freezes. Drawn to the opposite way down the hall

"This'll take a minute," Tsukauchi says catching him off guard. "You have time, Toshi......go see him."

Toshinori wants to argue but it stops dead in his throat. Because he knows Recovery Girl had gotten here earlier. He'd heard the full report. How many students were in critical condition from the villains' gas, how many injured, and how close to death his kid had come.

"Thank you."

He stands in front of the hospital room door, starting at the handle, still feeling ice cold from when he first saw the nameplate that read: Midoriya Izuku.

He has to breathe, remind himself he's on borrowed time, that he has no choice but to open the door and step inside.

When he does he finds he's not alone. Recovery Girl stands, leaning over the bed. She sighs as he slides the door shut. She doesn't even turn to look at him. Somehow, she must know. He deflates, leaving his muscle form for later when he needs it.

"I didn't expect you to be here. Thought you'd be leading the rescue mission."

"I am...I just..." The words die in his throat as he closes in, rounding so he can see around the old hero's shoulder. His eyes draw up, taking in the thick plaster around each arm. Up, until he's sucking in a sharp breath, as he sees the boy's face. Jaw tight, flush to his cheeks, sweat along his forehead, he looks like he's done nothing in the last 24 hours but fight for his life.

"Is he—?"

"He's stable. I just finished his second round of treatment." Another sigh, and she hops down from the stool she'd been perched on. "But he needs time before I can treat him again...this fever's been doing a number on him."

He doesn't even realize he's filling the space she's made for him until he's right there, knees against the hospital bed.

"I can't stay," he says for some reason. Recovery Girl hums. "We're making our move on the League tonight." And yet he doesn't move. Doesn't thank Recovery Girl for all she's done. He just stands there, frozen.

He can only stand and witness every flinch and twitch of agony that pairs with every small puff into an oxygen mask. He can only reach out so slowly until his knuckles brush against Izuku's burning cheek.

"He's in good hands," Recovery Girl says, voice extremely gentle. Toshinori nods, turning his hand to cup the boy's cheek. "I don't doubt it." For a second Izuku's eyelashes flutter (and Toshi's heart stops) but besides a deep inhale and his head rolling into Toshinori's hand, there's nothing else, no shine of recognition or sign of consciousness. Just fever, delirium, and pain. So, so much pain.

Toshinori lets himself—or tries to—breathe. He takes the boy in. The fact that at the very least Izuku is here, safe, and breathing along with him. Because for now, that has to be enough.

Because All Might's work is not done.

He straightens, from where he'd been practically bowed over the bed. With once last lapse in strength he presses his palm to the boy's forehead, pushes his bangs out of the way, and gently soothes over the bandages that have been wrapped there, before he's forced to pull away.

It's like losing a limb as he does.

"This wasn't your fault, Toshinori."

Wasn't it?

He'd stayed back from the training camp. Left his colleagues and students vulnerable. Left them all to fight so desperately alone.

He's failed as a mentor. All he's done is left Izuku to struggle, so that the boy can only keep using his quirk to the point of breaking—of a physical, no return.

Head down he doesn't stop walking, only barely whispers out, "Thank you for taking care of him..."

But he does pause when he hears her sigh one last time.

"Don't thank me for that...it's what I do." And then. "And what you can do is rescue that child from those villains... and come back safe."

Toshinori blinks, hand raised to the door, ready to pull up his muscle form to rejoin Tsukauchi in the hall. He turns back to find her looking at him, no, through him, before she glances to the quietly breathing boy in the hospital bed, and then back again. She holds Toshinori with a serious glare, one that follows him, along with her words, until the very moment he's watching his boy sail through the sky with his classmates in tow as he faces down his most dangerous foe. The very moment when he realizes as a teacher, as a mentor, as a—she's right, he can't die yet.

"He'll need you...when he wakes up."

[silverbladexyz]

Blue Skies, Tainted Sorrow

TW: Mentions of death. Stormbringer spoilers below!

The Yokohama sky was an exceptionally sorrowful blue.

Normally, the colour blue was associated with stability and harmony, granting a sense of tranquil peace wherever it descended. Favoured in the eyes of many, outshining numerous other shades- with such positive attributes, it was almost laughable, really, how it was also the epitome of sorrow.

But on this particular day, sorrow was the perfect reflection of the sky.

Chuuya sat, unmoving, on a particular protrusion of the building; his vacant eyes staring at the endless expansion of blue stretched out above him.

Calls that were sent to him were left unanswered on his phone, whether it was from you or from the supercomputer Adam that was assisting Chuuya in this case.

You understood your friend all too well to know what he was thinking.

"The hell is he doing?"

Shirase's impatient voice cut through the silence, and you turned your gaze towards him, glaring slightly. Despite all his proclamations about being the future 'King' of the disbanded organisation called the Sheep, he couldn't read the room to save his life, and was a coward in times of true danger. Talk about being a king of foolishness instead.

"I imagine he doesn't want to talk to anybody right now," Adam replied, as he looked up at the motionless teenager. You frowned slightly, glancing back towards the figure sitting on the building. Even though the latter could put on such a convincing act that could fool Dazai himself, anybody could tell that Chuuya was suffering in remorse and self-blame.

You didn't want him to suffer anymore.

"... Please excuse me."

Activating your ability, you teleported right to the same ledge that your friend was situated on, trying not to slip off the uneven surface.

If Chuuya heard you, he gave no sign of acknowledging your presence.

Taking a small breath, you tried to relax yourself as you slowly approached the teenager, speaking in a soft voice.

"... Hey. I just wanted to check up on you. You've been up here for a few hours, and I was starting to get worried."

There was no reply, but you waited patiently, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

"... I'm fine. There's no need for you to concern yourself over me."

It was an usual curt answer that you'd expected to hear from him. You knew that he was like this because he wanted to solely shoulder the guilt of their deaths on his shoulders.

But you weren't going to let him go this easily.

"... This is about the detective, isn't it? And the Flags, as well-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Chuuya had already shot up and faced you, gritting his teeth as he glared silently. You only stared back at him calmly.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"..." He stared off in another direction for a while, before his gaze returned to you again. But instead of anger, there was only a vacant emptiness in his eyes.

"The Flags and Detective-san all died because of me. I'm the one responsible for their deaths. And I have to be the one to stop Verlaine so that there won't be anyone else who end up with the same fate as them."

You stared at him silently, before opening your mouth to speak.

"'You're the one responsible for their deaths'... is that truly all you believe in?"

Chuuya stiffened, and you continued before he could get a chance to rebut.

"You were not the one who murdered them. Verlaine did, in order to 'set you free'. But he doesn't want to force you to come with him, because it'd be going against your own freedom of choice. Instead... he wants you to blame yourself for their deaths. To feel guilty about those lives that he cut away. And make you approach him of your own accord, so that-"

"But Verlaine killed them because he knew I wouldn't leave the Mafia. Even if I wasn't the one who performed the physical act, I'm still the sole reason why they're dead! Can't you see? None of this would have happened if I had just gone with him that time."

The sorrow was evident within him, even as he resorted to his usual angry façade.

"... It is agony. I feel it too. But," you tentatively placed a hand on Chuuya's shoulder, feeling his muscles tense up underneath your touch.

"Just as Mori-san had said, the dead feel no emotion. Things such as revenge and guilt are for the living. However, blaming yourself for their deaths is going to get you nowhere. It hurts, but it is only through this hurt that you can remember who you are fighting for. And please remember that you are not alone. I'll be here for you, and you can rely on me whenever you need me."

"..." Chuuya looked down towards the ground, his body starting to turn away, but you weren't finished yet.

His eyes widened as he felt your arms encircling around him.

Chuuya's instant reflex was to flinch and back away, but you merely tightened your hold on him. His hands lay by his side, but your warmth encouraged him to relax into the hug. It was slightly awkward, as the two of you weren't too well-versed in platonic affections, but that didn't matter in this moment.

"I know that it's been hard for you. I know that it isn't easy to keep on fighting when you have struggles of your own. But I just wanted to tell you... that you'll always be a human in my eyes. And that will never change."

The silence that followed was deafening- and with that, you felt a twinge of panic in you.

Did you happen to say something that upset him? You always knew how Chuuya felt about his humanity, but you never knew how he would react if someone believed that he was human. Your grip around him started to loosen slightly.

Only for two strong arms to hug you back, alongside a face being buried into your shoulder.

It was the first time you ever felt him smile.

Hopefully this did justice to Stormbringer!Chuuya ❣

@circinuus @riiwrites @sariel626 @ruanais @kolyakisses @chocsra @oldworldpoolhall @chunshiya @yuugen-benni

[awakenedevildays]

please please please I need someone to write some fluff for Art Donaldson x reader, if I read another smut I'll have to jump in a pool of holy water-

[skitskatdacat63]

I would commit murder to see the interview these pictures are from

[fountainpenguin]

I love the way Hazel's parents get involved in city events (i.e. Angela setting up booths to sell her books, even offering ice cream during the electric ice cream float parade).

Timmy's parents liked watching parades and his mom did have a banana bread booth at Dimmsdale Days ("Snack Attack"), but I'd say they were more about watching things and their own self-care (like exercise) than getting involved with local events. It's fun to see Hazel's parents around.

I still think it's hilarious they didn't show up for trash clean-up day and sent their 10-year-old alone in a new city, but hey...

[squidprinceofwinterfell]

Funny that the AV Club suggested the Deep might have ulterior motives for comforting New Noir when Deep is, at his core, a sad lonely bro who just wants someone to shotgun beers with. It’s like you guys don’t even know him at all.

[seexyyprincess]

Eddie loves.

Eddie loves to wash my hair when we take a bath together. Eddie loves to kiss me every moment he sees my face. Eddie loves to hug me because his love language is physical touch. Eddie loves to cook me my favorite foods or foods that we both like just to please me. Eddie loves my smile. Eddie loves to give me roses. Eddie loves to write me letters because he knows i love them even though he's not the best at writing. Eddie loves to drink a good wine with me while we talk about our future at night cuddling on the couch. Eddie loves watching romcoms with me because he knows i adore them. Eddie loves waking up with me. Eddie loves calling me with the cutest nicknames on the world.

Eddie loves me and always expresses it to me with each of his actions.

[doverstardoodles]

if I too discovered I could suddenly hug Luke Patterson tangibly, it would be ON SIGHT-

[thehalloweenspooks]

HEHEHE THE FIC IS HERE GIRLIES, COME GET YOUR SLOP!!! 

@i-just-wanna-go--home this one’s for you >:)

[rocketboots564]

Yo…. Stiles Stilinski isn’t even my type when it comes to what I find physically attractive.

AND YET

I’d beg on my hands and KNEEES for just a date, nay even a peck on the cheek.

PLEEAASE STILES, I KNOW DEREK AND LYDIA’S FACE CARDS ARE IMPENETRABLE BUT GIVE ME A CHANCE!!! 🙏🙏

[quillsandblades]

Fragments

(tw: blood and gore, graphic violence)

“Making tea is a ritual that stops the world from falling in on you.”

― Jonathan Stroud

Levi could hear the throb of his pulse, loud as thunder in his ears. 

Other than that, the world was silent.

He was aware of his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of the bastard who held him down, his nails broke through the skin and with an unnatural strength, Levi tore his face away like a mask. Strips of muscle and distorted tissue dangled behind leaving a gaping hole of a nose, grinning white teeth. And the smell of blood. 

And then he was running towards the rest of them.

He jumped, pivoting in mid-air as his hands clamped around a man’s jaws. Wrenching them apart with a force he felt rushing down his arm as a trail of fire, burning white hot. He didn’t hear the crack that followed as the upper half of his face burst apart, sending out a spray of blood all over them. His remnant senses were hyper-active; he could see every single speck of dust floating in the air, and the drops of scarlet that mingled with them. Every push of his arm, every kick of his leg, resonated down to the very bones. 

His fists reached out, someone’s body connected, a muscle was ruptured, a bone fractured, dislodged teeth spewed out in red spit. 

He didn’t count the second, didn’t mark the moment when his hands pulled one life out of a body and tossed it into the dark. He simply knew that others had to follow. That was all. 

And follow they did. 

One by one, every life, every light was snuffed out by his young fingers. And as each flame went dark, his hands burned red in the scraps of its smoke. He could feel nothing at all, just the thrum of his heart like explosions setting off in his chest.

BA-DUM

One of the men’s stomach rippled under the force of his punch. His knee crashed his face against the rock, leaving a wet mark and ripped skin upon it. 

BA-DUM

A kick zipped through the air, someone collapsed. Another kick and blood pooled in the dirt.

BA-DUM

A body was hauled up by foreign arms—no, his arms. Were they his arms? Was this him, Levi? The body was heavy, cold, empty. It was pushed over the edge of the road and tumbled down the throat of the ditch. 

Only one of them was left. His garbled words took a moment to reach Levi’s head and that’s when he stopped. His ears unclogged and sounds rushed in like a tsunami. 

‘. . . Kenny’s illegitimate son, right? . . . Absolutely unmistakable.’ 

***

Levi stumbled into the house with his mother’s tea set and a blank mind. It was easier not to think right now. 

He fumbled for the rusty pan and set it over the fire, letting the water bubble. Then opened the box and pulled out the kettle and cup, threw a handful of tea leaves into the kettle and waited until the water over the fire puffed out steam. He poured the simmering liquid into the kettle and secured the lid, setting up the hourglass. 

The sand trickled down, pulling the minutes with it. Levi watched the movement of each grain, the gentle tendrils of steam escaping from the spout of the tea pot, felt the warmth on his face. 

He wasn’t falling apart, he told himself. 

You already did, long ago. 

The whispers were cut short before they could rise as the last of the sand tumbled down. Tea was ready. 

He poured the amber into the cup and looked up. His mother smiled at him, her sweet smile, as she lifted the cup holding it by the handle with her little finger sticking out. ‘One day you’ll learn how to hold it just right.’ 

He blinked and she was gone. He blinked again, and his vision blurred and eyes burned. 

Levi grabbed the cup, remembering how she did it, and raised it to his lips. Before he could even take a sip, the handle broke and the cup crashed to the floor sloshing the tea and shattering to pieces. 

His mother’s memory cracked into a million fragments, begging to be forgotten. A scream wrenched out of his throat, laced with sobs. Porcelain was dispersed on the ground, and each piece pierced him worse than the pain from the fight. 

Ma’s gone.

Kenny's gone.

The cup’s gone. 

I killed some people. 

I killed—

And suddenly the broken pieces on the floor were bones and limbs, his hands were stark red, his fingers echoed with the impact of each scream and crunch of each wound. He jumped to his feet as bile rose in his throat. Slapping a hand over his mouth, he rushed out and staggered over dirt and stone and tripped on his knees and—

Greenish-yellow fluid gushed out and splattered beneath him. His guts twisted in on themselves as his insides squeezed out more and more of that stuff. Scenes from a while ago now played sharp in his mind, as if his body was responding just now. He panted, trembling uncontrollably. 

His hands had held them, attacked and hurt them, made them bleed and—by the skies, his hands had killed them. He had taken a life. He could feel the hot blood, the ripped wet skin an—

He retched, throwing up once more. His body shook with exertion. Tears and puke and cries mingled with each other as Levi struggled to breathe. He lay on the street, as a huddled, jumbled mass of agony, exhaustion and a raw longing.

And perhaps death would be kinder.