#but that sort of stuff would just end up being a bittersweet memory of what could’ve been huh?

[kyorru]

i think it’s wonderful how kana and hatori had their own happily ever afters but it’s still so unfair that they didn’t get to make that choice themselves :(

[quinngefail]

Been thinking lately about Adam and Lar both having problems with eating after the bathroom trap,, gonna put my ramblings under the cut, fair warning if descriptions about eating struggles are uncomfortable for you!!

(And also just warning for ((vague-ish)) descriptions about gore and such)

Like baseline. You have just The General Nastiness of the bathroom itself. I think either of them even vaguely thinking about the smells (and all the memories it brings) would be enough to make them lose their appetites 😩

Then they would both just have their own specific ordeals. Like okay in the QSCU (Quinn Saw Cinematic Universe™️)((just my headcanons I base my Saw stuff around lmao)) Adam spent at least two days alone in that bathroom before being found and saved. And y’know I just think I too would have just a few problems with eating after spending that time with front row seats to an actively rotting corpse 😩😩😩 I just. Imagine him being very susceptible to nausea after all that, and the thought of eating meat specifically makes him want to hurl... And he's just bombarded with these thoughts of what if this was the body. What if this was the body. What if this was the dead body. What if this was the dead, rotting body. What if this was the dead, rotting body being chewed and swallowed in your mouth right now.

It would simply make him sick to his stomach, I feel-

Then I just have to imagine Lawrence also has problems with meat going forward. Problems with cutting into it, and running a knife through it again, and again. And like with Adam, the thought of putting that in his mouth makes him feel so ill. He's just very prone to getting nauseated as well 😔

(Gotta mention too that Adam can't get the imagery of Lawrence sawing off his foot out of his head either and that's definitely a big point of Ick for him as well-)

And of course, sometimes their eating problems aren't even because of all that. Sometimes, they're both just in such a horrid state of mind that they simply cannot bring themselves to eat, or do much of anything, really. It's worse for Adam, and it inevitably, and concerningly, starts to show its consequences on his body,,

...But then I also have to think about nice things in regards to all of this, where once the two have reconnected and all that, they have to sit down together and try and figure out what sorts of things are 'safe foods' for making meals and such, y’know. And it's just this bittersweet sort of like ha ha yeah this sucks, but it's kinda funny that we both ended up dealing with this shit. And that we're both sitting here now, trying to figure out what we can and can't eat for dinner.

And they just gotta hold onto that thought of with time, everything will get easier.

...And when that happens, they are going out and getting the biggest, juiciest steaks this side of the planet 😤😤😤 Date night!! 😋

[thewordswewrite]

The Drought of an Ocean

Chapter 15 - His Future

Pairing | Finnick Odair x Fem!Reader

Story Summary | Finnick Odair was the youngest victor to ever win the Hunger Games but that didn’t earn him respect as a mentor, at least not until she came along. When a dejected volunteer from District 4 puts her life on the line, Finnick will do anything he can to protect her.

Chapter Summary | Embarking on their honeymoon, Finnick and his girl bond without the pressures of the outside world.

Chapter Warnings | canon typical violence, nonexplicit forced prostitution, mentions/situations of sexualizing minors, anxiety inducing situations, explicit language, mentions of suicide, character death, SMUT 18+

W/C | 4.8k

Taglist | @lem0ns77   @lostintheendlessvoidthatislife @curlycarley​   @bela-nov​ @lilylovelyxo​   @jaydiann @shynypeacekitten​ @dd122004dd​ @jyessaminereads​   @aquawhore420   @qallaghereid  @bazzaza​ @zulpix-blog​ @mrsjna​   @americanstarlette @lou-the-confused-bisexual​ @maxinehufflepuffprincess​ @cecepop15   @pavard-leto-girl  

A/N | The end!!!!! or not????? ;) Thank you everyone for keeping up with this story and being so committed to Finnick haha -Smoe

Donations |  Link

|Masterlist|

The sun had already long since set by the time they were nearing their destination and Finnick, while not seeming to necessarily be angry, had had very little to say on the ride thus far. It had undeniably been a bit awkward, from loading their stuff into the train car to sitting across from each other in silence. She got the feeling that he wanted to say something but didn’t know what and, unsurprisingly, she felt the same. There had been a lot of rethinking that had to be done on her part, backtracking through her memories to regret how she had acted when she was defending the truth she thought was reality. There was anger to be had both at Snow for painting an incongruous picture of Finnick and at herself for believing it. 

Her plans for escape were abandoned now that she had finally accepted the consequences that would come from it. She had been naive, not understanding the full extent of the power that Snow held over them. Finnick’s life had been torn apart even after doing everything he could to appease the President. After all he had done for her, had saved her from, he at least deserved a fair shot at the life they were given. If there was any true testament to Finnick’s, her husband’s character, it would be the countless chances he had given her and the goodwill he held toward her even now. It had broken her heart to see the look on his face that morning when he thought she would leave him especially after having seen the glimmer of hope that their wedding had sparked within Finnick. 

The silhouette of palm trees that had pervaded their view for the last hour or so slowed to a standstill which caused both of them to turn their heads, making eye contact that was averted immediately after. If it were any other time, she would make a comment about Finnick gathering both of their luggage, saying something along the lines of ‘I can take care of myself’ but she was ultimately just grateful that he was still an active participant in their lives, given she had experienced the opposite. There was a certain irrational fear that hung inside just being in the train where not only had so many things gone wrong between them, but where she had once traveled towards her imminent death. Now, stepping off the train with Finnick extending a hand to help her down, it was a bittersweet sort of realization that she held even a modicum of safety. The more she opened herself up to feeling for him though, the more she felt anxious about the status of their relationship that had thus far been turbulent. 

Together they walked down a dark path, lit dimly by the moon and a sparse arrangement of streetlamps. Finnick was dutifully on alert, both of them being unfamiliar with where they were sent and given how things had been going lately with his interactions with Snow, she couldn’t blame him for thinking it all might be too good to be true. 

“I guess this is it,” Finnick concluded as they stepped onto the porch of their seaside bungalow. They had seen similar housing on their way down the waterfront and while they had all been in good shape, they were very clearly uninhabited. “According to the pamphlet, this was some sort of resort back before the war…when people could afford that sort of thing,” Finnick had informed her.

“Moment of truth,” She sighed, slipping one of the keys out of the small package they had been given. Finnick held their bags, shifting uneasily from foot to foot as she fit the key into the lock. The knob turned with ease, opening into an unlit foyer which Finnick stepped into first with a ready stance. After a few moments, she followed him in, reaching blindly around the wall for a light switch. 

Once the room was lit, the place felt a bit less unsettling and more like a genuine luxury. It was decorated tackily, the forced atmosphere of being both beachside and on vacation pervaded every corner. The style wasn’t quite the in-your-face staple of the Capitol, in fact on closer inspection, it was clear that the decor and the house itself predated whatever current stylistic era they were in and likely by decades. 

“I guess it's just us, huh?” She bit her lip, struck by the awkwardness not only of the silence but her attempt to break it. “Looks like this place has been abandoned, up until now…I guess.” 

“Yep. Lucky us.”

Finnick surveyed the rest of the rooms, sparing scrutiny from no corner of the place. By now, neither of them were strangers to Snow’s invasiveness and it was hard to believe that he would draw the line for the sake of a vacation. When the house was cleared, Finnick immediately took to the master bedroom, only bothering to unpack whatever he needed for the night. She sat on the edge of the king sized bed, kicking her feet idly as he brushed his teeth.

“Do you want to go see the rest of the resort?” She called out to him, grasping for straws. It was hard to tell exactly where they stood, if he was angry or sad or just fine, any mixture of those things. There were plenty of things on a long list that they had to be concerned about, that had gone wrong for them lately and any of them could be troubling him. 

There was another moment before he stepped out of the bathroom.

“No,” Finnick simply stated, “I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just go to bed too then.” She felt like a child in his presence, trying too hard to please him. A couple weeks ago she couldn’t have cared less about what Finnick Odair thought of her or anything else but now he was a constant in her mind. As he started to get into bed, she gathered up a spare blanket and a pillow from the opposite side.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m just–” She gestured loosely to the doorway. They’d shared a bed for many nights before but given their conversation the previous night, she didn’t want to assume that she was welcome, even if it had seemed like they had made up. She would miss the feeling of safety that he provided and her sleep would likely suffer but it was better safe than sorry.

Before she made it to the door, Finnick spoke, “Stop. I’m too tired to do this right now. Come to bed.” She turned to him, the circles under his eyes deeply shadowed as he sat up, lifting up the opposite corner of the covers.

“Are you sure? I can-” 

“Come to bed,” Finnick repeated and though he said it tenderly, he left no room for discussion. She followed the order and climbed onto her side, replacing the pillow and blanket until everything was as it should be. 

“Goodnight, Finnick.”

“Goodnight.”

・・・Ψ・・・

She awoke to the rays of the early morning sun peaking through the windows, her limbs stretching out into the unoccupied space around her. At some point during the night, she had managed to travel from the leftmost side of the bed to the center of it with no sign of Finnick left save for the indentation of his body in the mattress. Upon reaching out to his side of the bed, it was clear from the lack of leftover body heat that he had not been there for a while.  Her first instinct traveled towards fear but she knew that Finnick knew better–knew better than her–to try anything. 

She slid her feet down to the floor, stretching her arms overhead as she made her way to the kitchen. A plate of food, wrapped delicately so as not to spoil, greeted her as she entered. She slipped it all back into the oven and set the timer, idly sitting on the granite countertop as she waited. Other than her breakfast, there was no sign of Finnick in the house and as the oven timer slowly ticked away, she was getting more and more anxious to locate him. 

Throwing on a more respectable pair of shorts and her sandals, she made her way to the previously uncharted back porch. The sliding glass door gave way to a breathtaking view, the sun hanging just above the horizon as waves rolled onto a silvery shore. It was similar to the beaches of their district but it held such a pristine condition that it was like looking at a painting. Indeed, it was practically uncanny the way the horizon line was uncut by fishing boats or city skylines. There was all but a single silhouette that disrupted or maybe added to the picture: Finnick out on the shoreline, casting his fishing rod out to sea. 

“You’re up early,” She called out to him, making her way down the beach. The corner of his lips upturned as she reached his side but his eyes stayed trained on the water.

“Had to be,” Finnick replied, “I was losing space by the minute. You sleep like you belong in one of these tidepools.”

"Excuse me?" She laughed incredulously, kicking a splash of water at him.

Finnick ducked out of the way, the fishing line shifting with him as he explained, "like a Starfish.” She shook her head before burying her face in her hands, still laughing. “I thought maybe with the bigger bed we’d be past this but–” He was unable to finish as he received a well-deserved but playful smack on the arm. 

There were a few moments where the only sounds surrounding them were the lap of the waves on the shore and a cluster of seabirds out to catch their next meal. She watched as Finnick started to reel in the line and scoffed.

“What?” He countered.

“You have no patience,” She smirked, pushing him just for the fun of it.

“Listen, I’m fishing for your lunch and if you don’t want to starve, I have to recast,” Finnick huffed in response. She spared him another word, choosing instead to raise her eyebrows in a knowing glance. Watching him in action however, it was nearly impossible not to comment.

“What was that?”  

“What was what?” She knew she could just let it go for his technique wasn’t that offensive but the childish scowl that already sat on his face was too good to resist.

“That cast!” 

“What was wrong with my cast?” The way he naturally stood taller at the accusation was hard not to laugh at but she needed to keep a more serious tone if she really wanted to tease.

“What wasn’t wrong with it?” She scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Rich boy forgot he’s from District 4.” Finnick glared at her a moment before reeling in his line, grumbling to himself all the while.

As he steadied the line in his head he added, “You know, I was having a nice time before you got here.”

She shoved him lightly as she pursed her lips,“Ha, ha, you know you like it better when I’m around.”

Finnick hummed, clearly fighting a grin. 

“Here,” She circled around Finnick, her arms ghosting over his own for a moment of hesitation before she took hold of them. Her arms barely fit around Finnick’s torso but she made do, practically bear-hugging him from behind.

“I think I know how to-”

She cut him off with a shush and, in a single practiced movement, threw their arms out in an arch, a perfect cast hitting the water just beyond the waves. “That’s how it’s done.”

They sat there together waiting to go in until they had a sizable catch to show for their efforts as they continued to do morning after morning, though with two rods rather than one. It was like that for a good part of their trip: finding a routine and sticking to it. It was easy enough to fall into friendly conversation knowing where they would be when and what they were going to do. What tensions there had been between them gradually faded away as they distanced themselves from all they had been through in less than a year. It was nearly impossible to fathom how she was spending her days lazing around the beach when she had already received what she thought would be her death sentence.

Besides fishing, they spent a lot of their days reading from the small collection of books they could find around the house or rather she spent a lot of time reading, after Finnick fell asleep following the first couple chapters she would read aloud. As the heat died off in the evening, they would share dinners before heading out to the beach to take a swim. Neither of them had suffered their usual nightmares as they were too sundrunk to do more than pass out as they hit the bed each night. 

・・・Ψ・・・

One night a storm passed through, nothing that would cause them to have to worry about the house but still strong enough to disturb the waves, thunder rumbling through the darkness. They were in bed early and, having spent a majority of the day inside, Finnick was especially restless as he laid listening to the sound of rainfall. He had his back turned to his girl knowing that if she knew he was awake, she would stay up no matter how tired she was just for his sake. It seemed this made little difference as he could hear her tossing and turning behind him. They’d been laying there for what he’d guess to be about an hour when she spoke.

“Finnick,” She whispered, “Finnick, are you still up?”

He rubbed his eyes quickly before rolling over, “Yeah, what is it?” In the dim light it was hard to distinguish her expression but there was clearly some sort of hesitance and Finnick wondered if she already regretted grabbing his attention. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no, I just,” She paused briefly, catching her breath, “I was just thinking and I realized…well, I never really thanked you for everything you did for me.”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, I-, I do.” There was another moment before she seemed to make up her mind and leaned forward, running tentative fingers along the curve of his cheek, “Thank you for everything, for taking care of me.” Finnick was grateful for the darkness for he couldn’t have stood to let her seem him blush. It was unusual for him, given all that he had experienced, and it was a very tame gesture after all.

“I just hope you know that, when it’s all said and done, I tried my best…for you…for both of us,” He sighed, wishing he had the words to express what he felt, to make up for all the harsh ones he had used in anger. 

“I know,” She affirmed, “It couldn’t have been easy…what you went through.”

“I never meant to choose for you, to take away your freedom. All I wanted was to keep you from what I had to do, had to be. I would’ve done anything to keep you from that. This–” Finnick gestured vaguely between them, “this was Snow’s way.” 

“I know,” She echoed with a sad smile. There was silence once more and Finnick felt vulnerable laying face to face with her like an open wound ready to be cut deeper. “What was it like?” She asked after a moment. His stomach dropped.

“What?” Finnick knew what she was referring to but she wanted to hear her say it again, to make sure he had really heard her. Never had anyone asked him how he felt about what Snow made him do because those who knew didn’t care about him and those who cared about him didn’t know. He could never bring himself to tell his mother what he had been put up to for he couldn’t stand to tarnish the image she held of her son. 

“What Snow had you do, I mean, I can’t even imagine.”

Finnick hesitated, words echoing through his mind. Dirty, filthy, disgusting. He could stop the conversation there, say he was tired and turn over to go back to pretending to sleep, preserving his dignity. But the way she looked at him so earnestly, like she was prepared to hear whatever he had to say, what had for so long gone unknown by anybody but him, he was left with no choice. So, he told her everything, every thought that crossed his mind as he thought back on years of his life that he had tried his very best to forget. He told her about the money, the gifts, the secrets. He told her about the shame and the pain both physical and emotional. While it was terrifying, it was equally liberating, every word another weight off his shoulders and, above all, the way she looked at him never changed. 

When he was finished, she told him about herself, about her childhood growing up in the orphanage after losing her mother, about how she had felt in the games. All together it was like meeting someone brand new even though they had been by each others’ sides for months. Problem after problem after problem kept them from really ever getting to know each other and while Finnick regretted not doing it sooner, he felt privileged to get to know her at all

“My mother never would’ve let me get away with that,” Finnick laughed, sitting propped up against the headboard as she told a story about a rogue boating incident. 

“It’s easy when you don’t have one looking after you,” She laughed but her eyes quickly widened and shone with regret. “Oh, I didn’t mean-”

Finnick shook his head, though the memory of what had happened left a gaping hole in his chest, “It’s fine, I…” He paused, gathering his thoughts. His mind raced with the memories, “I guess I just feel like it was my fault. If I would’ve just listened-” Finnick’s throat was closing up as he tried to blink away tears.

“No, Finnick,” She grabbed the sides of his face, wiping away his tears with her thumbs. “It could never be your fault. It was Snow who did that, Snow who forced us to do what we’ve done.” He could do nothing but nod, his voice swallowed by sobs he was struggling to contain. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Finnick was doing all he could to ground himself, holding onto her arms as if it was all that was tethering him to the earth. “I did it for you. The flint.”

“What?”

“I slept with a client without Snow’s permission to get you the sponsor. Its my fault she’s dead but I couldn’t let you die, I did everything I could-”

She hushed him and pulled him into a hug, running her fingers through his hair. He could feel her heartbeat racing, short bursts of breath exiting her lungs as she grappled with what he’d told her.

She pulled away, looking him in the eyes. “Why, Finnick? Why would you do that?” She was crying in earnest now too.

As he stared at his girl, he realized that she was all he had left, Mags growing sicker by the year and his family dead at Snow’s hands, she was his future. The moment of clarity knocked all breath from his lungs and he could do nothing but stare at the woman who sat across from him, holding his cracked heart together with nothing but her gentle hands.

“Finnick,” She cried for him, “Say something please I-”

“I love you.” The words rushed out, almost drowned out by the noise of thunder and rain from outside, but he knew she heard them. He saw the way her face shifted, from shock, to confusion until finally melting into something he could only categorize as affection. His wife let out a watery gasp and surged forward, her lips meeting his own, the salt on their faces mingling as they allowed themselves to deepen the kiss. 

“I love you.”

Her face wasn’t like that of his clients back in the Capitol when she said it, covered in lust and repeating those three words over and over to get him to do as they wanted. No, her face was an open book, every emotion laid bare to him in that moment, despair, sincerity, love. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known, and he loved her.

Slow and hesitant he leaned back in, meeting her lips with his own, waiting for her to return the kiss. Finnick’s hands slid around her waist then, as she kissed him back in confidence, her own hands sliding their way along his back. As the storm raged on outside, their gasps were mute to the world, hands and ragged breathes no one’s but their own. At nineteen, Finnick had gotten used to the meaninglessness of sex but now, laying here in the dark with his wife, he felt a fire ignite within him.

WIth ease, Finnick laid her onto her back, straddling her as they kissed, only breaking apart to breathe. He trailed kisses down her neck, biting and sucking his way down, drawing soft mewls from her lips as he went. Her fingers were gripping his hair, flexing every time he moved to a new spot. He went to pull off his shirt when she stopped him.

“Finnick, Finnick wait…stop.” As soon as he heard the word he halted all his actions.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I-”

“No listen,” She looked up at him, concern drawing her eyebrows together. “Are you sure you want this?” She was looking anywhere but his face as she asked. “This isn’t about what Snow said is it?”

“No, no,” He assured, trying to get her to look at him. “I want this, I want you.” He smiled down at her.

She returned his smile with her own. “Good. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to ever again.”

His concern melted away and he felt his chest warm. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Finnick couldn’t stop himself from grinning if he tried, instead opting to take off his shirt, his girl’s eyes taking him in as he did. Since they’d been ready for bed, there had been few clothes to remove before they were bare before one another, and Finnick drank in the sight.

“You’re beautiful.” Finnick kissed his way from her neck to the insides of her thighs, stopping to pepper in compliments along the way. 

Finnick held himself in his hand, lining his way up with her entrance and slowly he pressed in, savoring the feeling as they moaned in harmony. It wasn’t long until he was fully sheathed inside and panting in her ear. Her nails scratched his back as he began to move in time with their breaths, slowly picking up speed as he went. 

He wanted this, the woman he loved beneath him with no expectations from the outside world involved. His hands grasped for anything he could find, each and every soft surface of her. Finnick rolled his hips, following the pleasure she was squeezing out of him. He brought his hand down between them, his fingers looking for her clit in order to help her along and when his fingers finally met their target she moaned.

“Yes, Finnick!” She cried and clung to his neck.

Spurred on by her words Finnick sped up both his fingers and thrusts, the noise of it all echoing through the room. Their tongues swirled together as they kissed, swallowing the words each of them babbled as they came closer and closer to their undoing. It was only a few more seconds before she was screaming his name, Finnick following close after. It took all his strength not to collapse atop of her in exhaustion and instead rolled off of her.

With his remaining consciousness, Finnick pulled his girl to his side, tucking her to his body and using his hand to massage up and down her back. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder in response, using her own fingers to glide trails down his chest until her breath evened out.

Yeah, Finnick thought, I love her.

・・・Ψ・・・

Finnick laid on the front porch, soaking in the last rays of the sun as it set, the ocean cool breeze lulling him into a gentle doze. His eyes were nearly shut when the scrappy mutt who had finally followed him home from one of his morning runs, hopped onto his chest covering him with sand as he licked the sweat from his face. 

It had been a couple weeks since they had returned home from their honeymoon, the first part having been spent doing president-mandated interviews about the experience. While they kept most of the details to themselves, it was far easier to play up the happily married couple act now that it wasn’t so much of an act at all. When they were fully off the hook, they began their next project: making their house a home. 

They had repainted the walls of every room from dull sleek grays and beiges to vibrant cool colors. It was a shared effort that took longer than it might take one person as more paint typically ended up on their person than on the walls but the whole ordeal ended with laughs and a kiss. They went out to the market looking for handmade decor or second hand pieces to fix up and bring home. As a surprise, his girl even commissioned a local artist to make a portrait of his mother from an old photo she had found. While there was still more to be done, their house already looked less like a museum exhibit and more like an inhabited residence. 

Finnick was suddenly jolted from his daze as his name was called from inside the house, the dog running into the house at the noise. He cursed to himself as he stepped inside wishing he’d had a chance to wipe down the mutt before it tracked sand in the house.

“Finnick!” His wife called again with more urgency. He picked up his pace, rushing into their bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands. Finnick crouched on his knees by her side, gently tugging her arms from her face.

“What? What is it?”��

“I think I’m-” a sob broke through her lips again, “pregnant.” His stomach dropped at her words and he knew that if he wasn’t already on his knees, they would’ve buckled. There were a million thoughts immediately surging through his mind but the one most prevalent was the importance of comforting his wife.

“That-, that’s-”

“Finnick, I can’t raise a family in a world like this,” She cried. He silently agreed but there was no point in making her feel worse than he knew she was already feeling. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Finnick took her face in his hands, trying to keep his breath steady in a way that she could mirror.  “It’ll be okay, I’m here for you.” She grasped his wrists tightly, shaking her head.

“I won’t see them go into the games. Finnick,” Her fear and exasperation steeled to determination as she met his gaze unflinchingly, “I won’t.”

“That might never happen–”

“You know it’s rigged and with not one but two victors as parents…” She broke down into another sob, slinking out of his grip to cover her eyes again. Finnick searched for something, anything that would not only be worth saying but would hold some semblance of truth, of actual hope. He rose to her level, sitting beside her on the bed and took a long sigh praying to whatever higher power there might be that this conversation would remain private.

“I’ve heard…talk amongst the districts, the other victors.” 

She lifted her head, her arms slowly coming down to her sides and Finnick took one of her hands in his own as he looked at that connection rather than in her eyes. He had heard things from other victors as they made their rounds in the Capitol just like him. At first, he wrote it off as the same propaganda that anyone who suffered the Games would’ve been willing to believe. That was until it became so common, it couldn’t be ignored and legitimate plans of action were beginning to spread. It was nothing he could guarantee to her and if anyone found out that he had told her, they would both likely be killed but if he could ensure even a glimmer of hope for their future he would do it.

“Something called…the mockingjay.”

|Masterlist| |Previous Chapter| |Next Chapter|

[the--highlanders]

good luck with moving! heres a question for you. 2 actually. firstly tardis team 2 movie night whos choosing what? secondly do you think polly/ben and victoria and zoe would get on? (btw your fics are insane. ben jamie freindship my beloved)

ahhh thank you so much!! ben jamie friendship my beloved also, I really really need to write something longer about them. also relisten to the selachian gambit because it's so good for ben-jamie brotp content

I'm SO sorry this has taken so long also!! but I have been thinking very hard about what their movie picks will be. ngl I don't think I'm enough of a movie person to like, pick specific movies but I've been thinking about Vibes

jamie is just like, impressed by movies in general, especially in s4. so he'll go for basically anything that the rest of the gang put on. especially since a modern/futuristic real-world setting is likely to be just as unfamiliar to him as scifi/fantasy setting! he probably doesn't always distinguish them super clearly because some of the scifi stuff is closer to his actual experiences ghfdkj. I feel like he'd quite like comedies/more light-hearted stuff though? & some action stuff/jumpscare-y horror is just a no-go because he's not super used to non-live media making noises on its own, and sudden loud noises/being suddenly scared doesn't always play nice with his trauma. he'd just rather avoid it. also I feel like he'd really like documentaries!! he's super curious about everything and it's a nice way for him to absorb information through auditory processing which he's good with/used to and without the issue of learning to read. sometimes he'll disappear for a bit and the others will end up finding him curled up on a sofa watching a documentary on the most random stuff

two also has super eclectic taste but in a more out there/esoteric way. he claims he just has super refined taste when the others won't watch some artsy 12-hour martian epic with him (and then falls asleep or wanders off like, half an hour in because he doesn't actually have that sort of ability to sit still). he will put on the weirdest alien stuff that's totally incomprehensible to everyone else though. but he's also into like, silent comedies. he's such a chaplin-esque character, how could he not be (though he denies any similarity to himself!). and he's more into fantasy than hard scifi - it's impossible to watch any sort of serious scifi with him unless you want to hear a constant commentary on the inaccuracies in it. (by series 6 jamie has picked up on this habit, albeit with his much more limited knowledge. zoe finds this super disconcerting).

ben is absolutely the instigator of two and jamie's comedy enjoyment. he's Also a silent comedy guy. but I think he'd like action/adventure films as well? he's got like, a whole host of them that he really loves and is always trying to get the others to watch. I feel like he's the biggest movie watcher of the tardis team honestly, like going to the cinema was something he did a fair bit pre-canon? maybe it's something he did with his father while he was still alive, so he has fond but kind of bittersweet memories of it. & tbh I feel like being interested in the heroes as well as the love interests was part of his bi awakening. so he'd be the one pushing for the movie nights to happen, and maybe also more inclined to pick out alien/futuristic stuff than polly is, because he wants to see what else is out there.

polly is probably the one who comes the closest to appreciating two's more esoteric movie picks?? like they're not necessarily her favourite thing but she'll sit down and watch them with him. it's bonding time for them. they paint each other's nails and hang out. I think she'd also like kinda film noir/darker stuff. juuust enough that two and jamie like to tease ben about how many films she watches where the wife kills her husband. (ben takes it in pretty good humour. he's a wife guy like that he would support polly for this). also she's a bad romcom watcher in the sense that she likes to yell at the screen about all the dumb decisions the characters make, why the main couple wouldn't work out, that sort of thing. it's stress relief for her. she gets the others into it and the four of them sit there shouting like they're watching a sports game

[your13threasonwhy]

holy shit im so mad.

!!!SPOILERS FOR SEE YOU IN MY 19TH LIFE KDRAMA AND WEBTOON!!!

(disclaimer-sorry if any of the characters names are spelt wrong or need a hyphen, i get things confused between the kdrama and webtoon)

i read the webtoon way before the kdrama came out and i am still, to this day, so emotionally attached to it like, its one of the most amazing things ive read and i still cry when i think about it too much.

so, imagine my excitement when i find out its getting a kdrama and my absolute dissapointment when i find out that they changed literally everything (this is an exaragation) that made the webtoon so amazing.

when the show came out i was basically begging my sister to watch it with me (since she hasnt read the webtoon) and we are currently seven episodes in because we had to go on holidays however, we will continue watching it (even though i spent a good hour and a half contemplating whether or not i would actually be able to watch it without combusting after i read what they changed) until the end.

so, like the the overly anxious person i am, i searched up the ending just to make sure they hadnt changed anything else apart from min-gi's character and adding han-na (who we will discuss later) and proceeded to rip my hair out after reading that they made the female lead LOSE ALL OF HER MEMORIES ABOUT EVERYONE SHE LOVED.

but before we get into that i want to talk about the things they actually did well, for example, the cinematography, casting and scenery were actually so amazing and its definitely so much better than the webtoon (however the webtoon does still have a special place in my heart) and i think possibly the only good plot change they did was make han-na the reincarnation of seo-ha's mother. as someone who despises sad/bittersweet stuff i love that they made his mother reincarnate and keep her memories even if he doesnt meet her (which i dont know if he does because im only on episode seven) because its so sweet to think that she got a chance to see her son all (sort of) happy and grown up. i also love the fact that they added more depth to her past lives and showed up more scenes of them as, in the webtoon, im pretty sure the only things we got that related to her past lives were- her and min-gi's friendship, her and doyun's 'relationship' in her first life and her being ae-kyung's uncle.

now, onto the things im sad they didnt keep in but that i could deal with, which is mostly min-gi's character as a whole and the convinience store scene with ji-eum and min-gi where they recognise each other from their past lives (which im assuming they dont do since they changed his whole character). apparently, in the kdrama, min-gi and ji-eum used to be rivals/enemies in their past life or whatever so he decides to like hunt her down and basically stalk her😭😭 and then proceed to tell her that she needs to stop speaking and being around people from her past life because it hurts them (something i will talk-type?-about in a bit).

the reason why im so mad at this is because they straight just basically made him antagonistic instead of HAVING HIM AND JI-EUM BE FRIENDS IN THEIR PAST LIVES AND HAVING HIM SAY THEIR LITTLE SECRET MESSAGE AND HER BEING LIKE 'omg someone actually remembers their past life other than me?' AND THEN HIM JUST TRYING TO HELP HER NOT REMEMBER HER PAST LIVES ANYMORE BUT BEING A LITTLE BIT MISGUIDED BUT THEN THEIR STILL FRIENDS AND THEY TALK ABOUT IT 😖😖😖. like, they just ruined his character potential so much my changing that and adding the stupid motherfucking thing about how interacting with people from your past lifes hurts them.

finally, the things i hate, buckle up folks because this is going to be as long as my dick/j. first of all, the ending and THE STUPID 'YOU CANT INTERACT WITH YOUR PAST LIVES' BULLSHIT. i think the ending and the knowing about past lives hurts people is just absolute boiling garbage because 1-it just doesnt make sense 2-it doesnt make ANY fucking sense and 3-why the fuck does she need to forget but the people from her past lives dont forget who she was as ji-eum and as her past lives??? like i would rather they all forget but they're still happy and her and seo-ha are still dating/married and they're all still close but whatever. second, the whole fucking plot change like they apparently made this whole thing that made ji-eum think seo-ha murdered her sister for some fucking angst instead of the perfectly reasonable (and just as dramatic) thing with doyun where she thinks they were married so she distances herself from seo-ha but it turns out they were sisters and her and seo-ha still get to be happy AND THE WHOLE THING ABOUT THE DEAL WITH GOD (which also relates to the ending) BECAUSE IN THE END SHE ASKS GOD TO MAKE HER STOP REMEMBERING HER PAST LIVES AND SHE GRADUALLY STARTS TO FORGET THEM BUT SHE STILL KNEW SHE HAD HAD PAST LIVES AND SHE STILL REMEMBERED EVERYONE SHE CARED OUT AND THEN (if i remember correctly) SEO-HA REFUSES GOD'S OFFER TO REMEBER HIS PAST LIVES BECAUSE HE DOESNT WANNA HAVE ANY OTHER LOVE APART FROM HIS AND JI-EUM'S😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭(not sure if thats what he actually says but you get the gist) AND THEN THEY GET MARRIED AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER INSTEAD OF HER FORGETTING LITERALLY EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE SHE EVER CARED ABOUT AND HAVING TO REBUILD HER RELATIONSHIPS WAAAAAAAAA I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME.

in conclusion, the see you in my 19th life kdrama was absolute trash and i think they should remake it. In this essay i will

[crazychaoticizzy]

Tay I’ve got a bone to pick with you

i’m a mad and sad and happy and all the emotions right now

anyways here is basically every single thought i had while reading this and I regret that it took me so long. uhm. it’s a lot jsyk

spoilers under the cut <3

i’m so scared (the mantra in my head as I read the first bit in Canada)

him promising to give her a better wedding is literally everything

Reiner poor baby 🥺 he was one of the only ones that loved her so purely 😔

honestly I think Reiner wanted a movie love story after playing so many and Y/n just couldn’t give him that so i think it’s actually bittersweet they aren’t together anymore even if i find it DEPRESSING that he still loves her so much

“I would’ve liked to take you with me, but I’ll get over it, ‘s long as you’re happy”

HELP WHY AM I SAD OVER REINER I DONT THINK I EVER LIKED HIM 😭😭😭

“Your love story had ended, but loving him was one of the greatest decisions you’d ever made” OH!

why am I actually tearing up right now oh my god

saying “you won” is crazy though like did y’all really see her as a prize 😭 i take back what i said

LEVI GOING TO THE BEACH FOR HER 😭

the fact that Eren literally just gets out of the hospital and is already hauling ass to sign autographs is so funny to me

OH MY GOD I FORGOT EREN WAS MISSING FINGERS WHAT??? NOOO OH MY GOD 😭

“Neither one of them could remember the last time they’d embraces each other” oh 🥲

side note but Eren and Jean’s dynamic is always so interesting and I love reading it but Tay you did not have to go and make me cry like that AGAIN 😒

okay guys i get that being loved by Y/n is a treasure but what is with everyone treating this like a game or something 😭 like being loved by her is a glorious thing but jeez give her a break please

“And when you looked at Levi with a loving, shy smile, Eren felt his heart snap into pieces.” there are so many one liners and one liners always hit hard but DAMN you’re going for the throat Tay

… what’s Levi’s real plan??

“Thanks for playing along-“ WHATS LEVI’S REAL PLAN???? IS THIS SOMETHING WE WENT OVER THAT I FORGOT OR AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CONFUSED?????

Stop the complexity is terrible because i’m supposed to hate connie for killing my boy armin but you’re making me feel bad for him and sympathize with him

you can’t just do the happy flashback after all this depressing shit goes down

Eren hating the bees and thinking the school is out to get him is so real

STOPPP ITTTTTT THIS MEMORY IS MAKING ME CRY

ITS SO HARD TO BELIEVE THIS KID THAT MISSES HIS MOM TURNED INTO THIS CRIMINAL

life is wild yall this is making me realize that because like imagine that. like being so nice and innocent and all it takes is one incident to turn you onto a completely different path than you imagined. like so much so that people barely recognize you

(unnecessary rant sorry guys life is just so beautiful but also crazy)

another side jot but kids are so amazing because they’ll make friends with anyone just because they also like dinosaurs and j think that’s so beautiful

stop I FUCKING HATE WHEN THIS HAPPENS BECAUSE ITS ALWAYS SO SAD AND IT JUST MAKES ME DEPRESSED AND ITS TERRIBLE

oh my god is Levi gonna fucking die too

this is just making me so fucking sad oh my god

i think i’m just gonna start typing all the lines I like as I have been doing anyway:

“He would, perhaps, spend a lifetime trying to get over you.”

then talking about Jean reminded me of something you told me….. wasn’t he her stalker 🤔

STOP BRINGING ARMIN UP I KNOW ITS BEEN MONTHS BUT IM STILL NOT OVER THAT 😭😭

“You’re the definition of a spoiled rich dude,” you said with a teasing tone. “No way would I hold my phone over a body of water unless I knew I could easily buy another.” -this might be a far reach and me finding stuff that isn’t there but i feel like this shows how she was raised and how she still sort of thinks that way ykwim?

the smut was a pleasant surprise i’m not gonna lie 💀 i did not think we would be getting that at this point

“I don’t think we were made to just love each other,” Levi’s forehead was pressed against yours as he spoke lowly. “I’m starting to think we were made to fuck each other too. You’re taking me so well.” -gah dayum 🥵 straight out of a romance novel jesus

OH MY GOD ERWIN AND HANGE 🗣️🗣️‼️‼️

IM ACTUALLY SO HAPPY THEYRE OKAY

oh my god bye that plan was literally explained at the beginning i’m just stupid 🚶🏻‍♀️

not me thinking he was gonna fucking die (Izzy later ate her words because he did, in fact, fucking die.)

it’s still so wild that one event can change the trajectory of someone’s life so drastically like that’s actually insane

i’m terrified oh my god

i’m so scared

i can literally feel my heart beating in my head that’s how nervous i am oh my god

imagine this being like a TV scene and there’s no music only natural sound and the backtrack of a heartbeat so loud it almost blocks out what they’re saying

(imagining the shots and those details is the only thing keeping me from putting the phone down and pretending everything ended when Y/n was still happily married to Armin)

I AM SO SCARED

BITCH-

WHAT-

WHAT DO YOU MEAN

OH MY FUCKING GOD

I JUST POPPED MY JAW AND IT FUCKING HURTS ON TOP OF THE SHOCK IM SO

TAY WHAT THE FUCK 😭😭

NOOOO OH MY FUCKING GOD

LEVIS GONNA FUCKING DIE I CANT

IMAGIN BEING HANGE AND ERWIN AND JUST WATCHING THEIR BEST FRIEND GET SHOT RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM

OH MY FUCKING GOD LEVIS DEAD

NO YOU ARENT ALLOWED TO “YEARS AGO” YEARS AGO MY ASS WHAT DO YOU MEAN

WHY DO YOU ALWAYS PUT HAPPY MEMORIES AFTER SOMETHING TRAUMATIZING HAPPENS TO THESE CHARACTERS IT GIVES ME WHIPLASH TAY

i will admit “It’s not gonna turn into whiskey” is funny but i’m still mad 😒

MARIE MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️🗣️ (sorry i love her and Erwin and Nile’s dynamic it’s so wonderful so much so I wrote a fic based on it and no this isn’t self promotion ✨)

“I think romance is a waste of time. Loving someone is stupid, because no matter what, it’ll always end in pain. Heartbreak, divorce, death . . . It’s unavoidable, so why waste your time when you’ll always get hurt in the end? That’s what I think, at least.” Levi took another sip of his tea. “If I die alone, I’m fine with that.” -STOP BECAUSE HES NOT OKAY WITH THAT ANYMORE

oh my fucking god Levi’s gonna die

STOP HES APOLOGIZING TO THE SKY THAT MEANS HES GONNA DIE RIGHT THERE

STOP LEVIS GONNA FUCKING DIE

OH MY GOD

guys i can’t do this anymore i should’ve pretended Y/n and Armin were happily married when I had the chance I can’t go back now 😭

FUCKING CONNIE OH MY GOD

STOP

NO

FUCKING CONNIE

BITCH

OH MY GOD

LEVIS FUCKING DEAD

TAY WHAT THE FUCK

(excuse the limited vocabulary)

i’m so

stop oh my god i’m fucking crying

Erwin comforting Y/n is literally everything this is all so

i’m distraught

fuck connie oh my god

another side note and psychoanalysis of a character because i’m trying to distract myself from this BUT Erwin is definitely the type to not want to break down and in preventing that he carries the weight of everyone else on his shoulders thank you for coming to my tedtalk

STOPPP NOT THE PHOTO ALBUM

OH MY GOD THATS GONNA END UP BEING THE LAST THING OF HIS THATS GONNA BE TRULY HERS OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD NOW SHE MUST FEEL EVEN WORSE ABOUT HER MISCARRIAGE BECAUSE NOW THERE IS LITERALLY NOTHING OF LEVI LEFT EXCEPT MEMORIES AND THE FUCKING PHOTO ALBUM

LEVI FUCKING KNEW OH MY GOD

IM SO-

UGH

IM IN DISTRESS

i’m scared to read the letter

oh my god this trope is my demise it’s so good and hits every time but it always hurts so bad

OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT TO BE WORRIED ABOUT LEVIS PLAN HE PLANNED ON FUCKING DYING

oh my fucking god

YOU WERE MY ONE TRUE LOVE AND I WILL NEVER REGRET DYING FOR YOU

“But if that doesn’t happen and you kill me, then I forgive you.” -I don’t have enough crying reaction images for this (false)

i don’t even know what to say oh my god

THREE YEARS???? TF YOU MEAN THREE YEARS????????

oh my god is his blond guy Erwin?? did Y/n start her own record company too???? she really did become Connie copy and paste

ARLERT RECORDS STOP IT

OH MY GOD

STOP

I CANNOT

i keep getting hit with waves of sadness because i keep remembering scenes and things that happened and I am so unwell

“He didn’t mind one bit. After all, there weren’t any silent men around to abuse him, and he was no longer living in someone’s shadow.” -this feels so healing because there’s so many people thatve been hurt by Connie here and even if Y/n hasn’t had the best relationship with them she still wanted them with her it’s so-

ACKERMAN STUDIOS STOP- I KNOW ITS MOSTLY BECAUSE OF LEVI BUT ALSO MIKASA OH MY GOD

seeing who she became is so sad and terrible and once again brings me to my life is crazy and it’s wild how a couple things can change a person so drastically 😔

“and enough money to buy a new car if this one doesn’t pull through” -is so funny to me 💀

BUT ALSO ITS SAD BECAUSE REMEMBER HOW SHE WAS TELLING LEVI THAT BEING ABLE TO HOLD HER PHONE OVER WATER ISNT SOMETHING SHED DO UNLESS SHE KNEW SHE COULD BUY A NEW ONE AND HOW I WAS JUST SAYING THAT IT WAS SHOWING SHE STILL HELD THOSE IDEAS AND WAYS SHE LIVED BY WHEN SHE WAS POOR IN NEW YORK ITS SO-

thanks for reminding me about Mikasa and her unrequited love and how she left to travel the world again i really appreciate it 🥲

stop talking about everyone it’s making me so fucking sad-

great i’m crying again

FUCKING CONNIE THEY FOUND THAT BITCH 🎉🎉

unrelated but imagine how Armin would have felt seeing who Y/n became and i feel like he’d lowkey blame himself for part of it 😭

the ring 🥺

i’m fucking crying again oh my god-

it’s the way i keep needing to take breaks to cry and then immediately return to crying once i start reading again

i really like that she didn’t get remarried to someone for a while

THE FUCKING BOOKMARK

tay this isn’t okay you can’t keep doing this

STOP LEVI TRYING TO HELP EREN PLAN I CANT- IM SO MAD LEVI FUCKING KNEW AHHH

connie just went to prison and i’m so

i don’t even know how to feel or what to say

the complexity of people is so crazy and i feel like you capture that so well because the fact that Connie doesn’t beg but he begged to not be sent to prison speaks volumes about what happened and how much it truly affected him when he was a kid

unrelated and once again me trying to distract myself from being so sad but imagine Eren having flashbacks when he and Y/n are walking down the street and he’s on like higher alert because he doesn’t want what happened with Armin to happen with her anyways

am i dumb what do his clothes symbolize 🧍🏻‍♀️

fucking connie i hate that bitch but god damn if he didn’t develop

“I think I need to leave L. A. for a while” IS SHE GONNA GO BACK TO NEW YORK AND THE BAKERY WHERE IT ALL STARTED. FULL EVELYN HUGO CIRCLE???

Eren and I could never be friends because how can you not wrap your head around the sweet tea obsession when what you’re drinking is leaf flavored 😒

off topic but why the south. I mean i guess because of Reiner’s influence but why the south i live down there and hate it it’s so hot and gross 😭

at this point I know Eren is gonna be her end game and I think that’s so meaningful because like…. look at how they started. not the best. straight up ended the relationship with the love of her life without remorse but NOW HE DOES SORTA FEEL REMORSE AND HE BONDED WITH ARMIN BUT NOW ARMINS DEAD AND THATS LIKE ANOTHER LAYER OF EMOTIONAL BONDING THEY HAVE

anyways Eren’s development is also wonderful and fantastically done well written Tay

fun fact i’ve never had peach cobbler because i’m scared of trying new foods and i’ve never had peaches before 👍🏼

they’re so cute🥺

also i LOVEEEE that you’re showing her healing journey and didn’t just end her telling her daughter with Connie being locked up because SO MANY BOOKS AND FICS DO THAT AND IT MAKES ME SO UPSET

anyways

oh my god is he gonna propose (i’m at the part where they need to go to the store for food)

her breaking down because of Eren being gone so long oh my god

i love when writers (you) show development like this but OH MY GOD IT MAKES ME SO SAD

THE STRAWBERRY CHICKEN SALAD 😭😭😭

off topic but that sounds genuinely disgusting have you actually had that Tay and is it good because it sounds repulsing. strawberries and chicken???? what???? ew???

(perhaps a bias because i don’t actually like strawberries 💀)

“Love, in its truest and purest form, doesn’t simply die.”

HE HAD THE PEN ONCE AGAIN AND HE WAS DETERMINED TO WRITE THIS NEW FAIRY TALE PROPERLY ‼️

wait the fact that Eren is incorporating everyone she’s ever loved romantically in their life one way or another is so important to me for SO MANY REASONS OH MY GOD

first it shows that he is also honoring them because he was close with them, even if they were considered “competition” at some point or they hurt him either directly or indirectly

second it shows that he’s secure in their relationship because (and i could’ve totally made this up) BEFORE he was kind of a red flag 💀 like i remember him getting jealous super easily. plus like he literally broke up her and Armin’s marriage… BUT HIM NOW INVOLVING EVERYONE THEYVE CARED ABOUT IN THEIR LIFE SHOWS THAT HES GAINING SECURITY IN HOW HE FEELS AND THAT HE TRUSTS AND LOVES Y/N!!

OH MY GOD MIKASA!!!

unrelated once again but imagine how sad she is 😭 like damn not only did she not get the love of her life (she’s likely already over it but there’s still that sense of feeling there ykwim? like regret almost? like if she had shot her shot then maybe she could be in eren’s spot or something?? but also like it hurt to love you once but it felt amazing at the same time?? idk what i’m trying to say 🚶🏻‍♀️) but also her cousin is dead like dammit

AND YOU SAID IT FOR THE VERY LAST TIME ‼️‼️

ngl the smut once again caught me off guard 💀 ITS NOT BAD I JUST WASNT EXPECTING IT IT THREW ME OFF

WHICH STARTED WITH YOUR OLD FRIEND, IN A TINY BAKERY IN NEW YORK

bye i’m so done i’ve cried enough

(jk i’m reading the epilogue rn)

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity reader

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Plans, promises, & proposals have begun. Your next marriage comes about in an unexpected way. The celebrities of Los Angeles are hoping for peace, but a war for peace has never been an easy fight, and this particular battle will leave you forever changed. In the end, your one true love will always win.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem reader, modern/celebrity au, smut, heavy angst, marriage, divorce, pregnancy, cheating, grief, violence & blood, gun mentions, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of false imprisonment, drinking, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk, illness, hospitalization, & major character death. Some of the warnings listed here don’t necessarily apply to this part, but the series as a whole.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 25k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi everyone! I can’t believe this series is finally ending. Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented, and/or left me a message in my inbox. It has meant the world to me. I hope you all have enjoyed spending time with my version of the aot characters and in their crazy world. A big thank you to @spicerackofblorbos for helping me plot the finale. I couldn’t have written an ending I’m proud of without you. I had to post the epilogue separately, so don’t forget to click the link at the bottom of this post once you’re done reading this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy the final part, and please let me know what you think in the comments or in my inbox. Thanks for the support!

— CANADA —

Connie Springer was utterly sick of the entertainment news channels.

He had always despised it — gossipy brats who thought they contributed to society by rambling on and on about celebrities, secretly wishing that they could be one themselves.

Ever since he left Los Angeles that following morning after shooting Eren and that blonde-haired guy, he had done nothing but sit. 

Sit and watch the news. 

Sit on the couch and drink until the bottom of his beer bottles were dry, or until there wasn’t a single drop of golden brown liquid within his whiskey glass. 

His current place of residence was far from extraordinary. It disgusted him. Looked like his childhood home. It was a two-level shack where everything was old, brown, and smelled of dust.

But it was the perfect place to hide from the world. 

His other, more extravagant homes spread out across several different countries would have been too obvious, as right now, he needed to blend in, not stand out.

Even after he poured money into the hands of the Los Angeles police department and justice system, he couldn’t return home just yet.

He might not go to prison for murder — and attempted murder — but his reputation was still hanging on by a thread.

The only choice he had was to give everyone time. Time to move on and worry about the next Hollywood scandal.

Eren Yeager’s unplanned survival made everything tricky. 

He could yap to the cameras and tell everyone that Connie shot him. Even if no one believed the rockstar, his crazy fan girls would certainly take Eren’s side, and CS Records wouldn’t see another dollar from them. 

It also made it more difficult to blame you, which was the only benefit to having let you live that night.

Connie paced around the tiny living room of the tasteless property he had purchased just for situations like this, thinking . . . thinking . . . and thinking.

What could he do with Eren now?

Go back and finish the job, killing him completely? Force him into making music again?

No. That wouldn’t work. No amount of torture would work on a man who stared death in the face and lived.

Plus, fans would undoubtedly be paying attention to the warning signs now.

Thousands of videos with millions of views had gone viral on YouTube and other social media platforms detailing great conspiracy theories about CS Records. They took apart Eren’s lyrics, searching for hidden signs. Zoomed in on his photos to point out bruises that weren’t covered up well — Connie saw to it that the hired makeup artist at the time was now rotting in a refrigerator box on the side of the road — and, in short, everyone debated about what was true and what was a lie. 

Connie would have to clear his name soon. 

He’d have to work hard to save his reputation, if that was possible.

Then there was you. The bitch he wished he shot in the head that night.

He saw every clip of you visiting Eren at the hospital. Witnessed the footage of you leaving the police station, and he even laughed a bit at the Carrie White jokes made in reference to your blood-covered clothes. He saw the broadcasts detailing your residence with Levi Ackerman, then your reunited association with Reiner. 

He saw everything, and then he took everything.

Not only did he drain you completely dry of all of your money down to the last penny, but he owned every song you ever created. He owned everything associated with you.

And if he didn’t own it, he worked closely with the people who did and ensured that you wouldn’t see another dollar from any project. 

Your songs. Your movies. Your commercials. Your perfumes. Your Halloween costumes. Anything. Everything. 

It all belonged to him. 

You had nothing.

You were nothing.

The public notice of your divorce brought great joy and pain. He wanted nothing to do with you, the thought of you made him fucking sick, but after everything you put him through, who did you think you were to divorce him? He was the one who was supposed to make that first move. 

And to pour money into the lap of some divorce court to reduce a six-month process into one that could be handled in a few short weeks? It must have been Levi’s money. Were you in that much of a hurry to leave him? After everything you did to make him miserable? 

One night, Connie followed his usual routine: sitting on the couch with any sort of liquid substance that would burn his throat and numb his pain while turning on the entertainment news station. What he saw made his eyes widen.

The heat that ran through his veins wasn’t from any sort of alcohol. Not at all.

It, instead, was from boiling anger.

The television screen displayed both you and Levi Ackerman. You stood by his side, your manicured hand resting on his shoulder. You wore an engagement ring — an expensive silver piece of gemstone worth a fortune, smiling softly like an idiot as Levi spoke into the invasive microphones right in his face. 

“Y/N and I wanted to go public with the news of our engagement as soon as possible. There has been plenty of speculation and rumors about our relationship . . . our history together . . . and the only thing we can say for certain is that the two of us are madly in love, and we have been for a long time now.” Levi stared right into the camera. “Together, we’ve mourned the loss of our baby. It was made to seem as if Connie Springer was the father, but that wasn’t true. I was. But the only thing we can do now is move forward, let go of the past, and start fresh. And one day, the two of us will try again, and have a proper shot at becoming a family. We are-” 

The television screen went black as Connie grabbed the remote and turned it off. 

But he didn’t stop there. 

He threw the empty glass in his hand at the wall next to the TV, smashing the cup into a mess of shards.

The baby. It was Levi’s. Connie knew it wasn’t his — your doctor indirectly told him that — but now, he knew which lover’s child you tried to trick him with. 

Levi Ackerman.

And now, he had the audacity . . . the nerve . . . the guts . . . to marry you.

Connie wanted to kill him. 

He wanted to shoot him over and over again until the man had more bullets inside of him than blood. 

But he couldn’t. He had already gone too far by killing Armin and shooting Eren. And Levi wasn’t like those two. He wouldn’t be walking down the street holding a slushie. 

He’d be holding a gun. 

Someone like him wouldn’t be easy to kill.

But Connie couldn’t let any of this slide, either. 

An hour had passed. During that time, Connie paced around the living room, stepping on the sharp pieces of glass, which crunched and crackled under the weight of his shoes.

He then went upstairs, walked into the tiny, plain, and dark bedroom, and opened a plastic bag that he grabbed from the top shelf in the reach-in closet, pulling out your old phone to search for Levi’s number before texting him from his new one.

CONNIE: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?

A few minutes later, Levi responded.

LEVI: I’m marrying your ex-wife. What about you?

Quickly, a second message from him appeared on Connie’s screen.

LEVI: Where are you, Connie?

CONNIE:Why would I tell you that?

LEVI: Why wouldn’t you? You plan on coming back to LA eventually, right? Who else would run your shitty company? We’ll see each other again one way or another. 

We should meet in person. 

Connie scoffed a bit as he started to angrily type.

CONNIE: You think I’m stupid enough to agree to that? You’re trying to set me up.

LEVI: Why would I set you up?

I witnessed most of the things you’ve done to other people and kept my mouth shut. We’d both go down together.

I only went on television like that because I knew it would make you reach out to me. I want to make a deal.

I’ll give you all the evidence I have against you. Every bit of it. I’ll even help you clear your name. 

You just have to promise to leave me and Y/N alone. Eren, Jean, and the others as well.

CONNIE: No

LEVI: Don’t you want to come back to LA? Go back to running CS Records? I’m guessing you’re staying in some sort of cheap hideout right now. You own tons of nice homes that you could come back to, and all you have to do is leave us alone.

If I wanted to kill you or get you locked up, I would’ve done it a long time ago, back when you first shot Erwin.

When you think about it, I’m the one who has to put all my faith in you. You could get the evidence from me and then kill any of us afterward. I’m trusting you not to do that, technically.

CONNIE: You really are trying to exchange evidence for peace?

LEVI: Yes.

It was a tempting offer. Connie didn’t know what kind of evidence he had, and while he could have made the evidence disappear from any police station should Levi ever decide to turn it in, the disgraced manager could decide to go public with it instead.

Ruining his reputation could ruin his business.

And with the latest chaos his name had been dragged through, he couldn’t afford to risk it.

It was a fine deal. 

Connie didn’t want you as an artist anymore. He clearly didn’t mind losing Eldian Devils as a band, considering he tried to murder Eren. Plus, he didn’t care that much about everyone else.

Best of all, he’d get his hands on that sweet evidence, and be able to destroy it.

He believed the idea that Levi would let him continue to run his company. After all, the man had kept Connie’s secrets for years now. He could continue to do so.

Considering Levi had slapped a ring on your finger, there wasn’t any reason for Levi to want to target Connie any longer for keeping you imprisoned. You were his now. Levi won.

After taking all of this into consideration, his hand rubbing his jaw as he sat on the edge of the disgustingly small, queen-sized bed, Connie texted Levi back.

CONNIE: Deal. I’ll head back to LA in a few weeks after this shit cools down.

—

— LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA — 

Levi’s plan was rather odd. 

The man wanted to trick Connie into confessing what he had done live on camera, where others could witness it, and no amount of money could erase such undeniable evidence.

However, there were a few things about his plan that still left you puzzled, but your former manager would simply dodge the questions.

“Why won’t you just release the evidence you’ve been collecting this entire time to the public? Why do you need a live confession from him?” You asked one day, leaning on his kitchen island as he sliced into a loaf of fresh bread. 

“I just do. What I have might not be enough.” He replied plainly. “Can you pass me the butter?”

The next day, as you followed him around his backyard, watching him pull weeds with his gloved hand, you questioned, “I understand us going on live television and telling everyone we were getting married and that the baby was yours would piss Connie off enough to make him reach out, but now that he has, why are we actually getting married? Don’t get me wrong, I know we love each other, but I imagined a more romantic scenario-”

“When all of this is over, I’ll make sure you have a proper wedding with a proper ceremony, I promise.” Levi wiped his sweaty forehead off on his arm.

You smiled at the thought of marrying him, temporarily forgetting that, yet again, he managed to avoid answering anything. 

So, for now, you pacified your curiosity by assuming that, maybe, you just needed to trust him, and together, you signed those marriage contracts with the promise of building something greater someday.

—

Although you had often spent your days hanging out with Levi at his house, your current residence was still with Reiner.

Until today, at least.

Holding a cardboard box with the few items you owned  — only after refusing Reiner’s constant offers to let him buy you anything — you made your way towards his front door, shoes clicking against the ground, filling the silence.

Reiner stood there, faking a smile, but those gorgeous hazel eyes of his couldn’t hide his sadness. Even as a professional actor, he wasn’t so gifted when it came to disguising heartbreak. 

Running his hand over his subtle facial hair, he sighed as you approached him.

“So this is it, huh?”

“Looks like it,” you smiled kindly. “Thank you for everything, Reiner. And not just for letting me stay here, but for always being there for me. Our marriage didn’t last very long, but . . . you were a great husband.”

Reiner glanced down at his boots. The sunlight peeking in through the little windows beside his front door only made his pretty eyes seem brighter, and it emphasized the despair poorly hidden within his gaze.

“He’s a smart man. Marrying you really did get Connie’s attention, I guess. Though I don’t get why it couldn’t have just been a fake announcement,” Reiner loosely folded his arms.

“You’re forgetting that we love each other too,” you said.

Reiner nodded slowly, and after giving a short sigh, he unlocked the front door, and, like the gentleman that he was, took the box from you and carried it to Levi’s car.

You followed him, eyes squinting from the beaming sunlight. 

But, even so, you caught a glimpse of a small FOR SALE sign in Reiner’s front yard.

The southern-hearted man placed your box in the backseat. When he turned to face you, you asked, “Are you selling your house? Why?” With a shrug, Reiner started to speak. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t view this industry the way that I used to. Being an actor isn’t worth all the trouble, so I’m going back home, back to Tennessee. Back to my family. I would have liked to take you with me, but I’ll get over it, ‘s long as you’re happy.”

“I understand.” Although you were happy to know he’d be somewhere safe and would get to be a kind, ordinary man and live in peace, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad knowing that Reiner was leaving for good. “I’ll miss you.” 

You were optimistic that Levi’s plan would finally put Connie behind bars. Then, Reiner and his family would all be able to move back to Tennessee and live safe, happy lives. Their family home, passed down from generation to generation, could never be returned after the silent men burned it down, but at least they would have each other and could start anew. 

“I’ll miss you too.  I’m gonna stop by every now and then to check up on you, okay?” Reiner grinned softly, “But I know you’ll be alright. We both will.”

You wrapped your arms around Reiner’s waist, resting your head against his chest. His muscular arms hugged you back. It was a warm embrace, like always. One you would certainly miss. There was no such comfort quite like Reiner’s hugs.

Although your time together was brief, it was wonderful. He was a loving husband who introduced you to unconditional happiness. Someone who forgave you for your mistakes and did everything he could to protect you. In your time of need, he didn’t hesitate to help you, even if your existence in his life had cost him nothing but pain and grief.

Your love story had ended, but loving him was one of the greatest decisions you ever made.

Levi’s footsteps could be heard as he made his way towards his car. He had to take a private business call while you gathered your belongings, and now, it seemed as if he was ready to leave and take you back to his place for the third, and hopefully, the final time.

“Are you ready?” Levi asked, putting his phone back into his pocket. 

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling away from Reiner. “I just had to hug him goodbye. He’s leaving Los Angeles for good.”

“You are?” Levi raised his brows a bit. “Are you going back to Tennessee?”

“I am,” with a pause, Reiner sighed yet again. “Big decision, but I think it’s the right move.”

“I see. Well, I wish you nothing but luck.” 

Together, you and Levi started to get into his vehicle. 

Before getting into the passenger seat, you gave Reiner one last gaze, not knowing when you’d ever look into his eyes again, and you said, “Bye, Reiner.”

“Goodbye.”

Once you were both buckled in, Levi started to pull out of Reiner’s driveway. The blonde-haired man gave Levi a nod, one that wordlessly communicated: Congratulations, Levi. You’ve won.

—

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that very next day. How nice it was — feeling sunlight on your skin. The unusual chilly weather had finally started to disappear, and today, you wore a pair of sunglasses as you arrived at the hospital, a cold water bottle in your hand.

Truth be told, you wanted to stay outdoors as long as possible.

Ever since Connie locked you in your own bedroom as his form of punishment, you cherished every moment spent outside. It was thanks to him that you struggled with a Vitamin D deficiency, amongst other things.

“Do you like the beach, Levi?” You asked, glancing at the man beside you as you both stepped into the lobby.

“The ocean can be calming, but I hate sand. It gets everywhere and cleaning it up is a pain in the ass. Why?” 

“I was just wondering,” you said.

It was a lie, one that Levi saw through with little effort. 

“We can go to the beach next week.”

The smile that appeared on your face would make every dull moment of trying to shake off sand worth it.

You and Levi found yourselves at the hospital today to help Eren out after getting discharged. Truth be told, your presence wasn’t needed as Eren had his entire family to aid him, along with a team of bodyguards and additional staff at home to tend to his every need.

Even so, he wanted to see you. 

The rockstar stood in front of the nurse’s station, jotting down what looked like his signature. If it wasn’t for the excited grins on the faces of the three, young medical staff members, you would have naturally assumed that he was signing some form of paperwork, but as he handed the pen back to one of the ladies and they all squealed, it was clear that he was giving them autographs.

At least they had the decency to wait until he was healed before bombarding him with fan requests. You thought about that one nurse who asked you for a picture while you were visiting Eren, never considering that even though you were a celebrity, perhaps, you wanted a bit of privacy to grieve. 

That frustrating memory did make you wonder about something, and as you and Levi approached Eren and exchanged greetings, you tilted your head a bit and asked, “I know this might be bad timing, and I’m not sure if you’ve thought about it, but what are you planning on doing career-wise?”

Eren looked down at his three-fingered right hand. 

“I know there are workarounds to playing the guitar, and there are some cool-ass legends who had some missing fingers too, but I think I’m done with music. Touring . . . awards shows . . . concerts . . . screw it all.”

It was a conversation he already had with Jean earlier in the week. Eren’s departure would end Eldian Devils, as there was no band without him. No one could replace such a reputable band leader. 

Even so, Jean understood. He and Eren hugged it out as well, shockingly.

Neither one of them could remember the last time they embraced each other.

“I’m sorry. Must’ve been a hard decision,” Levi said.

“Nope,” Eren shook his head, smiling softly. “No one ever cared about my music anyway, just my face. And they can go to hell.”

“Wait, but what about your contracts?” Frowning, you added, “Are you going to hire a lawyer or something? You’d never win.”

Eren rested his elbow on the top of the counter. “Aren’t you two working on a plan to get Connie locked up? I’m hoping CS Records goes down with him, and I’ll be free from all of his stupid contracts.”

You looked at Levi with a face of uncertainty.

After all, his plan had a lot of holes — left you with questions he refused to answer. Missing pieces of a puzzle. 

Reiner and his family were moving back to Tennessee, hoping to live safe lives. And, now, Eren was determined to leave the company, both of them resting their futures on the promise that you and Levi were going to take care of Connie for good.

However, Levi didn’t share your worried expression. Instead, he looked at Eren with confidence, and said, “You’re right. Don’t worry about your contracts. Just worry about recovering.”

“So, what will you do now, then?” You asked.

Eren shrugged. “Whatever I want, I guess. What about you two?”

His tone was heavy, coated with jealousy that the poor man tried to hide, but failed miserably at doing so.

When he had heard about your marriage to Levi, all in the name of both love and luring out Connie, he couldn’t help but mourn what he had lost, and what Levi had won.

And when you looked at Levi with a loving, shy smile, Eren felt his heart snap into pieces. 

“I think that I’ll finally do what I’ve always secretly wanted to do, and write my play,” you said. 

Eren softly smiled at you. Then, suddenly, Eren’s eyes darted over to Levi, and his grin faded into a serious, gentle frown.

“Levi? Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah.” 

The two of them stepped off into a nearby, empty waiting room that smelt of stale coffee. The brown walls, cushioned chairs with wooden arms, and the flat screen television hanging on the wall displaying old reruns of Deal or No Deal were all drastically different compared to the sterile, white, and cold interior of the rest of the hospital.

When Eren sat down in one of the chairs, Levi figured that him sitting meant one of two things: he was still recovering and couldn’t continue to stand any longer, or this was going to be a long discussion. 

Either way, Levi sat in the seat positioned diagonally from him and faced his former client. 

“What is it?” Levi asked, furrowing his brows with worry.

After being bombarded with world-shattering news back to back over the last several months, he had grown to always feel anxious whenever anyone wanted to share something with him.

Eren couldn’t tell just how much his ordinary actions were making the other man panic inside. 

“Y/N . . . she doesn’t know your real plan, does she? She just thinks you’re trying to get Connie thrown in prison, nothing more?”

Levi was silent for a moment, lost in thought. He unintentionally scanned Eren’s black jeans, long-sleeved grey shirt, and low, messy manbun.

Eventually, his eyes darted down to the floor, and he sighed softly.

“Yeah.” Levi paused. He hadn’t discussed anything about his plan with Eren, but either way, he was grateful that he kept his mouth shut around you. “Thanks for playing along, but how’d you piece it together?”

“I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” Eren smiled, but it faded away as quickly as it had come.

“Does it bother you? Knowing what I’m planning?” Levi blinked at Eren.

And Eren was much conflicted.

One second, he despised Connie, wanting him to burn in hell for murdering someone as innocent as Armin and for trying to kill him, and getting others to abuse him long before then. 

But, the next second, he thought about the boy he had grown up with, the silly kid who once never dreamt of hurting anyone. 

Connie was always smiling — always laughing. The funny one in the group of four idiots, he was. 

Eren had met the amusing kid in Kindergarten — he later met Jean in first grade and Marco in second grade — and Connie was Eren’s very first friend. 

—

On Eren’s very first day of elementary school, the small five-year-old held on to his mom’s hand as she walked him to the intimidating, terrifying school entrance. The bee and butterfly stickers on the door certainly helped other kids feel welcome, but not Eren. He was stung by a bee the week prior. The school must have known that and was out to get him. Bees were waiting for him in his teacher’s classroom. He was certain of it.

Eventually, his mom halted her footsteps, pulling her son to the side as other kids walked through the door after saying goodbye to their parents.

Kneeling, Carla smiled lovingly at her boy. 

“Okay, this is as far as I can go, Eren. Do you remember your teacher’s name? And her room number?”

“Uh huh,” the brown-haired kid nodded, hands clenching the straps of his red backpack. “Ms. Green, and room two-one-five!”

“Good,” Carla’s grin widened as she reached forward and straightened out her son’s dinosaur shirt. “When the teacher says it’s snack time, there’s goldfish in your backpack.”

“Okay, momma!” Eren could imagine the multi-colored cheddar goldfish already. 

“Here’s your lunch,” Carla said, giving him a small box with a cartoony T-rex on the front of it. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart.”

“I’m not scared!” He lied.

Carla laughed a bit, and then, she hugged her boy goodbye and sent him on his way. 

He remembered where his classroom was from meet-the-teacher night, and once he arrived, the kind, curly-haired educator helped him find a seat. 

Luckily, there were no bees around, and school seemed easy-peasy. 

About ten minutes later, other students started to fill the colorful, animal-themed classroom as well. 

Those other students were chatting and playing with one another as they waited for school to start, showing each other their backpacks and whatnot and making new friends immediately. 

Should he approach them? Show them his backpack, or his cool lunchbox? What if they thought it was silly? 

All the other kindergarteners seemed to naturally gravitate towards each other. Already, he was feeling left out and lonely. 

It was worse than thinking his classroom was going to be filled with bees.

Suddenly, a small finger poked his shoulder three times. 

“Can I sit here?”

Eren turned his head to see a teary-eyed, slightly smaller boy who wore a shirt with three triceratops on it. 

“Sure! You like dinosaurs!” Eren beamed. 

The other kid wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, sniffling softly as he sat down next to Eren.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?” Eren tilted his head a little bit, and the other kid nodded.

“I miss my mom,” he mumbled.

Connie’s dismissal with his own mom wasn’t nearly as graceful as Eren’s was. He was kicking and screaming, but the five-year-old was, unfortunately, forced out of his car. He had calmed down a bit, but that’s when the crying started. 

Seeing everyone else quickly make friends only made the tears fall even faster, so he decided to approach the other kid in class who was also wearing a dinosaur shirt.

“I miss my momma too, but don’t be scared. We’re friends now, ‘cause we both like dinosaurs.”

Eren grabbed the building blocks in the center of the table, feeling happy that he now had someone to play with, and because he hoped that it would help the other boy feel better.

“Wanna play with me?”

The other kid nodded. As Connie reached for two building blocks, one red, and one green, the kind teacher walked by, caringly rubbed Connie’s back, and handed him a tissue for his runny nose. 

In actuality, everyone had assigned seats, but she wouldn’t dare separate two students who were able to comfort each other, especially when they weren’t causing any sort of trouble yet.

As the two boys played together, Connie coming out of his shell rather quickly, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Eren. What’s your name?”

“I’m Connie.” 

“Do you wanna keep being friends?” Eren asked, worried that the boy might leave his table after cheering up. 

“Uh huh,” with a smile, Connie said, “we’re gonna be friends forever, promise?”

“Yeah, I promise!”

And, after sealing their promise by twisting their pinkies around each other, the two boys continued to enjoy each other’s company until class officially started.

—

“Eren?” Levi leaned forward a bit. 

He had asked the other man if he was bothered by his secret plan, but Eren failed to answer.

“Huh?” Eren mumbled, snapping out of his daydream. “My bad. Uh . . . it doesn’t matter how I feel. It’s the only way to keep everyone safe, so what I think doesn’t matter.”

“But I still want to know how you feel.”

“Why won’t you tell Y/N what you plan on doing?” Eren dodged the question. “Are you worried about how she’ll feel? I’m sure she’d support it. He killed someone she loved.”

“That’s why I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want her to be any more involved than she already is. If she finds out the truth, she might want to help, and I can’t let her come with me.” Levi looked away from Eren. He noticed how he avoided his earlier question but decided not to press further. “But, anyway, just don’t tell anyone. Let Y/N think that all of this is just about getting Connie to confess, and exposing him to the public so prosecutors will have no choice but to toss his ass in prison.”

“Okay.” 

Levi started to get out of his seat, but then, Eren spoke up again. “I know you’re already married, but give her a proper wedding later on, okay?”

Eren’s emerald eyes were glistening with such intense pain and sadness, that Levi could no longer make eye contact with him.

“I’m planning it already,” Levi paused. “It’s kinda stupid since we’re already legally married, but I’m going to do it anyway. I just don’t want our marriage to be nothing more than a way to lure Connie out.”

Levi went on to describe the details he had imagined, prompted by your request for a romantic scenario. 

Eren nodded sadly, heartbroken.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, just jealous as hell, that’s all.” Eren pushed himself out of his seat. “Anyway, let’s leave. I’m sick of this hospital. Smells like peas and shit in here, you know what I mean?”

“Peas, shit, and Clorox wipes.”

“Oh,” Eren said. “Thanks for mentioning Clorox wipes. I know what wedding or birthday gift to get you now.”

Levi scoffed lightly with a grin, getting out of his seat. 

“Don’t you dare. I’ve gotten enough cleaning supplies from you.”

It was Eren’s go-to gift for every event dedicated to celebrating Levi. 

“Fine,” Eren frowned. 

If he couldn’t get cleaning supplies, then he’d get appliances. It was his second go-to gift. 

He’d search for a brand new, expensive, eight-burner stove later on. Possibly after mourning losing the love of his life to another man.

—

As the sun fell, darkening the sky that very next day, Eren’s mansion was filled with music, warm food, and celebration.

This particular party was quite different from the ones Eren had thrown in the past. Technically, this party was thrown for him by his family, and the gathering was more family-friendly than the sin-filled nights that often took place whenever lots of people were in Eren’s home.

Carrying a tray of food, you walked into Eren’s kitchen where he was leaning against his kitchen island, chatting with a popular movie star, a singer, and a few relatives.

A short distance away, you spotted Jean talking to an unfamiliar woman.

Darting your eyes back in Eren’s direction, a beautiful smile appeared on his face upon seeing you.

He excused himself, sat his cup down on the counter, and approached you.

 Taking the tray out of your hands and sitting it down on a nearby counter, he said, “Hey, you made it. Thanks for showing up.”

“Of course,” you grinned. “And guess what? I cooked this all by myself.”

“Really?” Eren raised his eyebrows in complete surprise. “You’re learning how to cook?”

“Yep. Levi’s teaching me. I made steak . . . fajita . . . quesadillas . . . or something. I don’t know, but it’s good, trust me.”

Eren couldn’t help but lean down and kiss your cheek in the most friendly way possible. Sorry, but you were just too cute.

He would, perhaps, spend a lifetime trying to get over you.

“Who’s that girl Jean’s talking to? She’s pretty,” Eren turned around searching in the general direction you pointed out discreetly by nodding your head.

“Oh,” Eren said once he spotted the grinning pair of chatty partygoers. “That’s Ava. She’s a pianist.”

“Hm. She’s making Jean blush. He seems happy. I’m glad he’s moving on.” Eren faced you again as you spoke. “Anyway, I’m so proud of you, ‘Ren. Your recovery has been amazing.”

“Thank you,” Eren paused. “So has yours. Not just from your illness, but you’ve been happier lately. I can tell.” 

You smiled once again, god — it was devastatingly beautiful. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, Y/N,” Eren reached out, grabbing ahold of your hand, and gently tracing his thumb across your skin. “I mean it. And I’ll be as happy as you are one day.”

Looking into Eren’s gorgeous eyes, you softly said, “I know you will be. And I can’t wait to see it someday.”

This time, you were the one to peck his cheek. Then, you both let go of each other’s hands, and you walked away from him.

—

Sunshine, ocean water, and warm sand filled your early afternoon a week later.

The gentle, crashing waves were a sight to see. On your hands and knees, you collected tiny sea shells along the shoreline for both you and Levi to keep. 

As you did so, you couldn’t help but think about your childhood days, on your hands and knees, digging through dirt and grass for cool rocks and interesting bugs with Armin. 

Dragging your thumb across a gorgeous white shell, attempting to remove some of the wet sand, you mumbled, “You would’ve loved this, Armin.”

“Hm?”

Levi stared down at you through his dark sunglasses. He was standing in the water, letting the waves crash around his ankles.

“Talking to myself,” you replied, smiling sadly. 

Then, you shook off the grieving thoughts, letting a real, happy smile grace your face this time as you searched around for more shells. 

Suddenly, you heard Levi’s phone click as he snapped a picture of you. 

It had become his latest hobby — photographing you at every opportunity, and not bothering to tell you beforehand.

If anyone scrolled through his photo album, they would see pictures of gorgeous sunrises and animals he spotted in his backyard garden, but mainly, they would see captured art of you learning how to cook — smiling in your little apron as you successfully made your first California sushi roll, or you in the middle of a fancy dinner, mid wine sip. 

There was also a picture of you reading a book on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. 

Or you hunched over Levi’s desk, working on your play. Watering plants. Putting on lipgloss. Laughing at a silly movie. Yawning. 

Whenever he had the chance, he took your picture, capturing every little, happy moment and potential memory.

“You’re the definition of a spoiled rich dude,” you said with a teasing tone. “No way would I hold my phone over a body of water unless I knew I could easily buy another.”

“You can,” Levi took another photo of you as he spoke. “We’re married, remember? What’s mine is yours. That includes money.” 

You couldn’t help but smile — and Levi snapped yet another photo at the sight of it, of course. 

“Hey, how about you take a photo with me, for a change?” You asked, eyes squinting from the sun.

Levi lowered his phone. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Okay.”

You gave a celebratory grin as he walked over, kneeling in the sand beside you. Levi gave the softest grin, and while your own smile was brighter, you were both equally just as happy. 

It had been a long time since you had known joy quite like this, and Levi was certain that he had never known such happiness before. 

—

After leaving the beach, you and Levi returned home to shower and change clothes before heading out for your dinner reservations.

It was a lovely restaurant, one that was classy enough for you to not have to worry about prying eyes, as you were surrounded by fellow celebrities and wealthy citizens who paid you both no mind.

After dining on gourmet meals and sipping on fruity wine, you and Levi returned home.

As your back hit the bed, a giggle escaped from between your lips, which spread into a cheeky grin.

“Leviii,” you whined, reaching up and grabbing at nothing in particular, “Take your damn clothes off.”

Levi shrugged off his dark blue blazer. “I think you might’ve had too much wine.”

Tipsy or not, the moonlight casting through the big master bedroom window had illuminated Levi’s face enough for you to see his cheeks were a faint shade of pink.

“Think you might’ve had too much wine too,” you giggled yet again. 

Levi mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out, and then, he kissed you deeply. Sloppily, despite his clean nature. 

While his kisses to your lips and skin might have been rough, he removed your clothing gently, as if unwrapping a fragile present.

He ran two of his fingers from your lips, across your heart, in between your chest, down your stomach, and finally, made contact with your aching clit, rubbing gentle circles around your button.

He loved the look on your pretty face — eyelids fluttering, mouth slightly agape as sweet moans slipped out from between your wine-stained lips, which were the tiniest bit swollen from kissing.

When Levi suddenly swirled his tongue around your nipple, before sucking on it, your moans grew louder — he was in love with the sound of it. 

Your hands made their way to his hair, fingers tangled in his soft black strands. 

“Levi,” you whined. The call of his name was followed by incomprehensible blabber, which was only interrupted by sudden, loud moans as he plunged two fingers into your awaiting hole.

Soon, you would learn that his quick fingering was just the preview, as after Levi made you soak his fingers with your cum, he would then thrust into you with his hard cock. 

His rhythm — the way he hooked his hands under your knees and pinned your legs, fucking you in such a method that resulted in you alternating between gripping the thick, soft, pale cerulean sheets, and digging your nails into his back, decorating his skin with bright red scratches.

“I don’t think we were made to just love each other,” Levi’s forehead was pressed against yours as he spoke lowly. “I’m starting to think we were made to fuck each other too. You’re taking me so well.”

You shut your eyes, turning your head to the side as skin smacked against skin, legs trembling as yet another orgasm was approaching. 

“You’re not getting shy on me, are you? Look at me.” Levi moved his hand away from your leg and gripped your jaw, making you face him. “Look at me while you cum. You understand?”

“Mhm,” you hummed obediently, tears falling from your eyes from complete and utter pleasure, and it wasn’t long before you were gushing all over Levi’s cock. 

Feeling your hole clench around him is what drove him to his own orgasm, and he came inside of you, your pussy milking his cock for all it was worth.

As he finished cumming, he kissed you yet again. 

“I love you,” he whispered breathlessly against your lips, pulling away from the kiss to look into the eyes of the one person he’d do anything to protect.

“I love you too.”

—

A few days later, after having breakfast with you — your overcooked eggs got stuck to the pan, and Levi had to take over and make omelets, which was fine — you excitedly prepped the guest room for two special visitors while Levi left to go pick them up.

The irritated man waited patiently for the plane to land in the big, open area deprived of any people aside from him, his four bodyguards, and a few people who worked for the private jet company.

Soon enough, two people stepped through the jet door, one at a time.

“Levi! I missed you!” Hange shouted, dramatically pressing their hand against their head. “We were on that jet for hours!”

They practically jumped off of the steps, stretching a bit before running up to Levi and hugging him tightly. “I’ve been so worried about you, oh my goodness.”

“You’re squeezing me.”

“I know,” Hange said, not bothering to release the grip they had on him. “It’s called a hug. Don’t be a jerk.”

Eventually, the lingering, blonde-haired man made his way out of the jet, taking his time in thanking the staff members for the transportation and for carrying his and Hange’s luggage. 

Erwin approached Levi and Hange with a soft grin. 

“It’s good to see you, Levi,” he said. 

Eventually, Hange released him, and Erwin was able to hug him as well, normally. 

“You’re both late. What took so long?”

“I dunno. Slow jet, maybe?” Hange shrugged.

“It’s my jet, Hange. It isn’t slow.” Levi briefly glanced at the staff members who loaded their luggage into his truck. “But anyway, it’s good to see you. Thanks for coming. I know it isn’t safe, but I needed some help, and I didn’t know who else to ask.”

“Hey,” Erwin reached out, touching Levi’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t have come if we cared about danger.”

Levi told his two best friends his plan beforehand, but even so, he needed to make sure that they understood just how important their role was. 

“You understand what needs to happen, right?” Levi darted his eyes between their faces. 

“You’ll trick Connie into confessing while Erwin and I stream it live for the world to see,” Hange said. 

“It’ll be evidence no one can fully erase,” Erwin added.

“Then we cut the cameras off, and . . .” Hange didn’t dare to say the next part aloud, but they continued to speak lightheartedly. “And hope to god you’re rich enough to avoid prison and keep us from going down with you, that’s all!”

“That’s right,” Levi mumbled. 

He understood Hange’s enthusiasm. After all, Connie tried to murder Erwin. Even so, there was nothing easy or fun about what the three of them had planned, no matter how cruel Connie was.

As they headed back to Levi’s home, they discussed the finer details of what would take place tomorrow night, during which Connie Springer would walk into his own assassination. 

—

— YEARS AGO, CALIFORNIA STATE PRISON —

“After you hurt someone, how do you feel, Connie?”

The older, brown-haired woman crossed her legs, her knee-length skirt shifting a bit. “Do you feel a sense of gratification, or do you feel dread? Or regret, maybe?”

The chains around Connie Springer’s wrists rattled as he played with the clicky fidget cube in his scarred hands, hands that were covered in cuts and bruises from his latest fight with a fellow inmate in the cafeteria. 

A fight that was so brutal, it resulted in him being tased. 

Of course, the correctional officers could have simply pulled him off of the other guy. He was pounding an adult man’s face in, but even so, he was still a kid. He could have easily been lifted and carried away. 

But it was no secret that the immoral officers had it out for Connie. Around here, locked away from the rest of society, no one cared about what happened inside the isolating prison walls. 

The guards would ruin his entire life simply because their wives forgot to pack them a soda with their lunch, and they wanted to release their anger and frustration on someone easy to bother.

The kid trapped in an adult prison, for example.

And most of his inmates were no better. 

The monsters he was trapped in hell with had turned him from a harmless, kind, and silly teenager — who, once upon a time, had never known pain aside from falling on a concrete sidewalk and scraping his knee, because he forgot to tie his shoes before running to Eren Yeager’s house — to a violent person who had to be taught how to fight just to survive behind bars.

But it wasn’t enough.

He was still just a kid. 

A kid who never wanted to hurt anyone.

A kid who was easily targeted by everyone, and couldn’t do anything about it.

“Connie, did you hear my question?” The older woman spoke up yet again. “How do you feel after you hurt someone?”

The seventeen-year-old’s hazel eyes never once looked up at his therapist. Instead, he glared at the cold, gray floor.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

He had given that response to the last three questions she had asked during her attempts to pick his brain. 

“Try and think of an answer for me.”

“I said I don’t know.”

Despite his stern tone, despite the way he raised his voice, his therapist didn’t flinch. Nor did she completely back down.

“Tell me; when you hurt someone, do you think it’s justified because the world has made you suffer with an unjustified prison sentence, so you have the right to hurt others now? Even if those people haven’t done anything to you?” 

“That one motherfucker spilled his drink on me. He deserved what he got.”

“It was an accident, Connie.” The older woman leaned forward a bit. “Fighting can result in a longer prison sentence. Do you know what disciplinary action is?”

“Yeah. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not,” she paused. “But now, you’ve temporarily lost a few privileges. Your friends and family can’t visit you for the next few months. How does it feel knowing you can’t see your friends and family for a little while?”

Connie shrugged. 

“Connie, honey, listen to me.” The therapist dropped her voice to a whisper. “I need you to cooperate and try your hardest to work with me. I’m only trying to help you. I won’t make any promises, but your willingness to help yourself can result in a shorter sentence. Did you know that?”

Aside from the gentle rattles from Connie’s chains as he shifted around a bit, the empty, gray room was otherwise silent for a moment.

But the lady was right. If the corrupted system was somehow kind enough to lessen his sentence, or at least, consider moving him out of the adult prison and to a juvenile detention center — where he should have been, considering his crime was committed accidentally and he was still a child — then they would talk to her first. And she would report what she evaluated.

Connie released a shaky sigh.

“You were such a sweet boy when you first arrived here. I remember meeting you in group therapy sessions, and you were trying to make the best of your situation. You couldn’t stop talking about your friends and how much you loved music. Do you remember that?” 

“Yes.”

“That was only one year ago. What happened in such a short amount of time? beyond being incarcerated, of course.”

The prison was rather cold. Even the therapist had to bring a sweater despite the hot summer sun shining down on Los Angeles, and perhaps, that was why Connie started to tremble.

No. That wasn’t it. 

His eyes started to water a bit, warm tears that brimmed in his waterline threatening to fall down his face, which was pale from lack of sunlight. The teenager clenched and unclenched his jaw. Lowly, he sniffled.

“They hurt me here.”

“They hurt you here?” The therapist repeated. Despite working in mental health for twenty years, she was unable to hide her sadness and concern. “Who hurts you, Connie? Staff members or the other inmates?”

Once again, Connie was silent. The therapist asked yet another question.

“When you say hurt, what exactly do you mean? How are they hurting you?” 

He didn’t want to cry. Clenching his trembling jaw to hold back tears had failed, as one streamed down his cheek anyway. 

If only he hadn’t said anything. Just what was he thinking? 

If his therapist discovered the truth — the unspeakable pain that he had gone through in just a year — then she would have to report it, and he would be labeled as a snitch. 

“I’m just messing around. I didn’t mean to say that. My bad.”

“Connie-”

“Can I go now? Please?”

The therapist looked at her watch, noting that he still had fifteen minutes left in his session. Even if she failed to get some sort of confession out of him, she, at the very least, had to do something in her power to brighten his ruined life. 

Could she convince someone to move him to a different prison? Or, perhaps, fight to have his old privileges restored, such as visitation? 

He adored his mom. Even his therapist knew that much. 

Maybe he would tell the truth to a trusted adult or one of his friends, be it his parents, siblings, Eren, Jean, or even Mrs. Yeager. 

Someone. Anyone.

That realization made his therapist ponder. She leaned back in her seat, thinking.

“I bet Eren would storm the entire prison if he found out someone was bothering you here, hm? I know your mom would be very upset, and she would do everything she could to help you. Do you think you’d talk to one of them?”

“I don’t wanna talk about this. No one’s done anything to me, okay? I was just joking.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of-”

“Nothing to be afraid of?” Connie’s sudden, sharp glare sent a chill down the older woman’s spine. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“Well, am I wrong? Is there something to be afraid of? Is someone making you feel . . .”

Connie dropped his head, tuning out the rest of her words. For the remainder of their session, he was unresponsive, refusing to say another word, fighting back the urge to cry as his thumb flicked at his fidget cube. 

If only he could have been honest.

 If only he wasn’t terrified of what would happen if he told the truth. 

If only someone could save him. 

If only he didn’t feel so alone.

As tough as he pretended to be, punching adults in the face, hoping, and yet, failing, to scare away anyone who dared to hurt him, he was nothing more than a terrified teenager who wanted to go home. Who desperately wanted his mom to soothe him, or his dad to protect him. 

But the boy would have to be content with only daydreaming about being saved as he drifted off to sleep with one eye open, because for the next few years, he would know nothing except for this miserable hell.

— PRESENT DAY —

Levi’s private jet wasn’t the only plane landing in Los Angeles today. 

Throughout Connie’s flight back to Los Angeles aboard his private jet, he spent the majority of the ride shaking his leg from pure nervousness.

Could he truly trust Levi Ackerman?

Evidence for peace.

Peace for evidence. 

That was the deal.

Maybe. Maybe not.

But he wanted that evidence badly enough to risk it. 

Glancing out of the tiny plane window, the beautiful city of L.A. came into view, mesmerizing high-rise buildings below a bright blue sky welcomed him home.

Tomorrow night, he and Levi would meet somewhere privately, and soon, everything would go back to the way it was.

Peaceful.

—

It was dark. 

The night sky had shown few stars, and the nearby orange streetlights, softly buzzing, were the only source that provided sight to Levi as he walked to the agreed meeting spot.

It was a shady area behind an empty building, one free from street surveillance cameras, as Levi promised Connie.

However, it was not free from the little tablet camera peaking out from behind nearby bushes, Hange’s finger hovering over the button to start a livestream as soon as Connie arrived.

It wouldn’t take long. 

Slow footsteps could be heard before Connie came into view, appearing from the side of a building in clothes as black as the night sky. His hands were in the pockets of his nice pants. Even when his life was falling apart, he still bothered to dress impressively.

Hange started the livestream.

Erwin started another livestream from a different social media platform, just in case something happened to the other one. And, as a last resort, they had a camera positioned elsewhere, which wasn’t broadcasting anything, but was for safekeeping, rather.

Thousands of confused fans of Eldian Devils and Levi Ackerman flooded either one of the two live streams. 

After all, he never streamed anything.

The last time a notification such as this one appeared on their phones from Levi’s accounts, was when a drunk Eren Yeager had opened his manager’s phone and started a broadcast without his permission. 

That was years ago.

“Do you have it?” Connie asked, staring into Levi’s suspicious, glistening eyes.

“Yeah. I do. You know what’s on it?” Levi reached into his pocket, pulling out a little black flash drive. “It contains your illegal money transactions. The shitty contracts you make your artists sign. Doesn’t have anything on it about what you’ve done recently, though, like shooting three people and killing one of them.”

Take the bait . . . take the bait . . . Erwin thought.

Hange and Erwin made sure their cameras successfully captured Connie’s face so no one could deny that it was him.

What an idiot he was. 

“You sound pissed off about it,” Connie yawned a bit.

“Of course I’m pissed off. You murdered Armin and tried to murder Eren. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“I didn’t know you cared so much, man. Sorry if I’m used to you not giving a damn about anyone but yourself.”

Hange shared a knowing look with Erwin. One that communicated their thoughts and worries without them having to say a word: Was that good enough? He hasn’t directly confessed, but he hasn’t denied anything either. Would this be enough?

Erwin gave them a nod, one that told them to keep recording.

Keep recording until it was time to stop.

“Armin was a good person. I’ll never understand why you had to kill him.” 

“Because I had to, okay? Can I have the flash drive now? Because all of this extra chatting could’ve happened over the phone.”

“Fine.” 

It was a good enough confession. 

Levi reached into his pocket and pulled out the flash drive. 

Hange and Erwin were told to end the livestream once Levi reached up and scratched his left ear — not wanting to get what would happen next on camera — but he hadn’t made the move to do so yet, so they continued to record.

And why he hadn’t yet signaled them, they weren’t certain. 

Perhaps, it was because he was hesitant. 

Levi looked into the eyes of the man who, right now, trusted him entirely. The man he had trusted for years. He could see it now — the look of trust in his hazel eyes. And, perhaps, there was a look of regret as well.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as comfortable with being an evil murderer as he pretended to be. Maybe he could still be saved.

Once Connie took the flash drive from Levi’s hand, Hange’s thumb hovered over the button to end the livestream, awaiting the other man’s signal.

With one hand, Connie shoved the flash drive into his pants pocket. With the other, he swiftly grabbed the handgun out of his inner coat pocket, pointed it at Levi’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

—

— YEARS AGO —

After a long day filled with drills, exercises, and aggravating tasks all under the name of serving the country, Levi, Erwin, and Hange sat around a wooden table, playing a card game to blow off some steam.

“Shit . . .” Levi took a swig of his tea, glaring down at the deck of red and white cards in his hand. “You’re cheating, Hange.”

“Huh?!” With a frown, Hange placed down another card, coming closer and closer to winning the card game Levi couldn’t remember the name of. He didn’t care that much. 

“Ignore him,” Erwin laughed softly. “He’s finally bad at something, and he can’t stand it.”

“Is that why he’s drinking tea like it’s liquor?” Hange turned their attention from Erwin to Levi, speaking with a teasing tone. “It’s not gonna turn into whiskey, Levi.” 

Levi grabbed another card, glaring playfully.

Being that he was only twenty, he had no choice but to settle for tea. But that lovely idiot across the table surely made him wish he was downing a bottle of something — anything.

“Hey, Erwin? Where’d you go after training yesterday?” Hange darted their eyes up at Erwin, then back down at their cards.

“I had a date, remember?”

“Oh, right! With, uh, what’s her name . . . Maddie? Mia? Macadamia?”

“Maria,” Erwin corrected, smirking just a bit. He was starting to win the card game, relying on strategy instead of luck. 

“Nice, nice,” Hange nodded. “And what about you, Levi? Take any lucky girl out last weekend?”

“I’ll hit you.”

“What? I’m just asking a question,” Hange playfully wiggled their eyebrows.

“Erwin, please tell Hange to leave me alone in a nicer way than I’d put it.”

“I don’t know about that, Levi,” Erwin glanced up at the man. “I must admit that I’m curious about your love life myself.”

“See?” Hange gestured at Erwin with their hand, then looked at Levi. “Do you find anyone attractive? Are you in some wild, secret relationship we don’t know about?”

“No,” Levi placed his cards down. Erwin won the game, but everyone was too focused on hearing Levi’s revealing words to celebrate or sulk. “I don’t have a love life. I don’t care about any of that.”

“Why not?” Erwin questioned, furrowing his brows. 

“I think romance is a waste of time. Loving someone is stupid, because no matter what, it’ll always end in pain. Heartbreak, divorce, death . . . It’s unavoidable, so why waste your time when you’ll always get hurt in the end? That’s what I think, at least.” Levi took another sip of his tea. “If I die alone, I’m fine with that.” 

—

Hange’s livestream ended abruptly because they had unintentionally thrown their tablet, cracking the device and breaking it. 

Hange and Erwin ran to the fallen, bleeding man. It felt as if their bodies were moving in slow motion, and yet, everything had happened regrettably fast. 

Connie disappeared into the darkness surrounding the abandoned building they were stationed behind. Moments later, tires screeched as a car sped away. 

Hange scraped their hands collapsing at Levi’s side, but the little blood on their bruised palms paled in comparison to the pool of blood pouring out of their best friend’s body. 

“Call the police, Erwin! Call an ambulance. Oh my god, Levi, please, no . . .” 

His eyes were open. A streak of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth. Hange scooped their hand underneath his head, cradling him.

As Erwin contacted the nearest first responders, Hange pressed their hand against Levi’s injured chest, attempting to stop the bleeding.

As they did so, bloodied hand against his bullet wound, they felt the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. 

“Levi? Can you hear me?” Hange stared down into his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the few stars twinkling up above. 

“I’m . . . sorry.” Levi’s voice was weak. A tear fell from his eye.

Erwin dropped the phone. He pushed Levi’s hair away from his face, leaning in to hear the man speak.

“Sorry . . .” Levi repeated.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, do you understand me? This screwup isn’t your fault.” Tears brimmed in Erwin’s waterline. When he blinked, it fell onto Levi’s warm cheek.

“You’re not gonna die like this, Levi, we promise,” Hange said. They could barely see him through their tears, which blurred their vision. 

Levi’s blood started to touch their knees.

“Take care of her . . . okay?” Levi whispered. He had to use all of his strength to speak. More blood pooled from his mouth. “Take care of-of Y/N . . . help her learn how to . . . cook. She’s learn . . .  she’s learning. Help her produce her play . . . promise me. Keep her . . . happy. Tell her that I love her . . . okay? Promise . . .”

In the distance, ambulance sirens blared.

Erwin smiled, stroking Levi’s forehead. “You hear that, Levi? It’s an ambulance. You’re going to be just fine. You can tell her all of that yourself.” 

Hange held Levi’s hand. 

He just needed to hold on a little longer . . . just a little longer . . . and he would be just fine.

This time around, no one could hear Connie’s footsteps before he came into view.

This time, they weren’t aware of his presence until he was standing right behind them with his gun drawn, his hand trembling, eyes filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Connie spoke with a shaky voice, one filled with regret — the same regret he felt after he fired a bullet into Eren.

Erwin’s eyes widened. 

He must have returned to kill him and Hange, eliminating any witnesses. After all, he had no idea about the livestream. He had no idea that thousands of people had witnessed tonight’s events unfold, soon to be millions upon millions as the news spread.

Erwin didn’t care about his own life, and he tried to reach across Levi and pull Hange away, but the bullet was fired too soon.

It didn’t hit Hange. 

It didn’t hit Erwin.

It hit Levi in the forehead, killing him instantly. Killing any chance of survival.

If the police cars and ambulance trucks racing down the street nearby didn’t know where to locate them, they certainly would after hearing Hange’s scream. 

But when they showed up, there was nothing they could do. 

They were too late.

Hange cradled Levi’s warm, bleeding body, trembling arms wrapped around him while Erwin did most of the talking, communicating with the police officers as best as he could, masking his pain to better tell the tale of how the corrupt justice system is what led to this situation to begin with.

But nothing — nothing — would ever be as difficult as arriving at Levi's home that night, promising to return to the police station in the morning for more questioning.

As they stepped through the doors, Hange’s sobs quiet as they made their way into the foyer, you were preparing a surprise celebratory dinner in honor of their success, confident that the three best friends would return victorious.  

Hange sat down on the foyer floor. They couldn’t walk anymore. They couldn’t feel their legs. 

“I’ll be right back, give me one second.” The sad man stroked his crying friend’s hair. 

He stepped into the archway of the kitchen. For a while, you hadn’t noticed him.

Darting back and forth between the stove and cabinets you were, and Erwin didn’t disturb you just yet, wanting to let you hold on to your happiness just a bit longer. 

Then, your eyes darted up to his face briefly, just long enough to see that familiar head of blonde hair, but not long enough to notice the pained look within his blue eyes, nor the blood staining his body.

“You’re back!” You said, turning away from him to pull a tray of baked chicken out of the oven. “I know it’s late, but there’s nothing wrong with a midnight dinner, right? I, uh, I cooked everything myself. I burned the chicken a little bit on the bottom, but I just cut that part off. It’s fine. I can’t wait to see the look on Levi’s face! I even made dessert . . . well, I bought dessert . . . but only because I didn’t have time to bake anything. Of course, the one thing I’m good at, I don’t even have time to-”

Your words were abruptly cut off as you looked at Erwin yet again, your eyes lingering long enough this time to notice his distraught appearance.

As you stood there wearing your oven mitts and your apron, holding a tray of oven-roasted vegetables, you worriedly asked, “What’s wrong? Why are you so . . . did someone get hurt?”

Before Erwin could respond — although it took him a moment to get ready to speak, as his voice had faded away due to the lump in his throat — you reached for the stove behind you, turning off a sizzling pan to better your hearing. 

That’s when you heard Hange’s sobs coming from the foyer.

“Erwin?” Your tone was thick with worry. “What happened? Where’s Levi?”

At that moment, when that haunting question fell from between your lips, Erwin wished that he was the dead one right now. 

“Y/N,” he spoke as calmly as he could, nodding in the direction of the nearby breakfast nook. “I need you to sit down for me.” 

You shook your head. Your mitted hands clenched the hot tray. Your legs started to wobble. Your eyes started to glisten with hot tears.

“Where’s Levi, Erwin? Where is he? Where’s Levi?” 

He couldn’t tell you. Not like this. Not with you holding a hot tray in your hands. You could get hurt.

“Y/N . . .”

You started to cry.

“Where’s Levi? Where?” 

Despite your words, you knew the answer. You were a woman who knew the look of unspeakable grief quite well.

Erwin approached your trembling body slowly as you sobbed.

The hot tray fell from your hands. Erwin was quick enough to smack it away so it wouldn’t touch you, burning his hand and arm in the process. It hurt, but none of that mattered. Not right now. 

He caught you before you collapsed to the ground. One hand was wrapped around your body. The other hand cradled your head. 

Crying into his chest, you continued to ask: “Where’s Levi? Where is he?”

—

— THREE DAYS LATER —

The world had come to know the truth — an ugly piece of honesty that no one could deny: Connie Springer was a coldhearted murderer, and Levi Ackerman was dead.

The latest chaos appeared worldwide on notable news channels. Headlined the most popular articles and newspapers. 

But none of it mattered.

Even after shooting Levi twice — once in the chest, then circling back around to kill him completely, not wanting a repeat of Erwin and Eren’s situation — Connie was still a free man.

He very well couldn’t buy his way out of this one. 

The general public had seen his sins with their own eyes. 

But, even if the government was forced to do its part and uphold its own laws, laws that wouldn’t help them purchase a Beverly Hills mansion and secure their children’s future in top-notch Ivy League schools, it didn’t mean a thing, because no one could find him.

The master bedroom door opened, and gentle footsteps made their way towards the side of the bed, where you laid on your side, head resting on a pillow. His pillow.

It was uncomfortably wet from your tears.

“Hey,” Erwin’s voice was soft. “I made breakfast. You should try to eat something.”

You didn’t respond. 

You couldn’t. 

Grief took your voice away — snatched any desire to speak, as your throat was dried to a crisp.

Therefore, you only shook your head, and Erwin sighed a bit. 

He sat down a white bowl of some steamy, nutritional substance on the nightstand nearby.

“It’s here if you change your mind. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

The grieving man walked away.

It wasn’t fair. Truly. It wasn’t. 

He was suffering just as much as you and Hange, who occupied the guest bedroom, having their own tear-soaked pillow to sob into with a bowl of uneaten food on their nightstand as well.

But he couldn’t sit around and grieve. Instead, he had to take on the role of a caregiver, trying his hardest to do what he could for you and Hange. 

Over the last few days, he cooked. Cleaned. Opened the door only to allow visitors who he thought would help lessen your misery, like Sasha, Annie, and Eren.

Although the paparazzi once again lurking around Levi’s property were indeed pests, he took advantage of that. Standing in front of their cameras, speaking into their microphones, he spoke on and on about how horrific Connie Springer was. How none of his artists were safe until he was locked away.

“You care about their music. You care about their concerts. You care about their interviews. Now, it’s time to care about their lives,” Erwin once said, his words broadcasted worldwide for millions to hear. “Help us find Connie Springer, so every artist he has worked with can seek justice, and sleep soundly and safely. Continue to be outraged at him and everyone at CS Records who holds a position of power. 

Eren Yeager almost lost his life thanks to him. I almost lost mine as well, both of us, victims of his violence.

Armin Arlert was a kind, hardworking man who was simply walking down the street with Eren Yeager, drinking a slushie. Now, he’ll never know what it’s like to grow old. To live comfortably.

Levi Ackerman died trying to protect his loved ones. This is the same man who brought your favorite singers to the spotlight. Avenge him by finding his killer, so that he and Armin Arlert may rest in peace. Thank you.” 

—

Around noon, Erwin, once again, made his way into the bedroom. You hadn’t moved a muscle.

Silently, he grabbed the uneaten bowl of breakfast food, which had gotten cold and dry over the dreadful hours.

He replaced it with a plate. On it, there was a sandwich, cut in half, and a few pieces of fruit.

Taking the old bowl away, he returned moments later with a glass of water, and a hardcover, brown, book of some sort. 

He sat the water down on the nightstand. Even the gentle clink-clank of the glass was too much to bear.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “I found this. I think you might want to take a look at it.”

Your eyes shifted in his direction. Much like you did when he offered you food earlier, you simply shook your head.

“It’s from Levi. I found it in his office. I think it’s . . .” Erwin paused. “Look at it, when you get the chance.” 

He reached over you, placing the book on the other side of your bed.

After that, he left.

An hour and twenty minutes had passed before you built up the courage to sit up in bed and grab the book. With trembling hands, you opened it, only to discover that it wasn’t a book at all.

It was a photo album.

Every picture that he had taken of you, both mundane and extraordinary, was printed out and filed neatly on every page you had flipped. He added the dates as well, written along the white spaces underneath every photograph, as well as a little description of what was happening or where you were.

Planting new flowers

Sasha’s birthday party 

Making tacos

The beach

After the photo of you and him on that beautiful day, there was one more.

It was the picture he took of you on the date afterward. There you were, smiling, holding a fork that was getting ready to dive into your first course, a fresh, creatively-plated salad, all while wearing your favorite dress. 

Your tears splattered onto the pages. It blurred your vision, but after blinking a few times to clear it, you were able to read the final description.

Our last date

Gripping the edges of the photo album, you brought it closer. Perhaps, you read that incorrectly. Maybe it was a result of dehydration and depression.

But no. The words remained the same.

How could he have known that your last date would indeed be your last date?

You flipped the page, not expecting any more photos to appear. And there weren’t. The remaining pages were empty photo slots waiting to be filled.

There was, however, an envelope tucked in between one of the pages. 

Your name was written on the front of it in Levi’s perfect handwriting.

Shaky fingers ripped open the envelope rather quickly. With one hand, you wiped your tears, and with the other, you unfolded what appeared to be a letter.

Y/N,

If you’re reading this, then I’m sorry.

I’m sorry because I’m going to die soon, and I have to put you through even more grief. I hope you can forgive me for it.

I wasn’t being honest with you, or with anyone.

Some think I plan to kill Connie. They’re wrong. You think I plan to put Connie in prison, which I am, but not in the way we discussed. I need more than a live confession. I need people to see him killing someone they ignorantly think is more important, someone who matters more to Hollywood than a waiter. Getting him to admit to Armin’s death won’t be enough. The flash drive alone won’t be enough.

The only way to cause enough outrage is if I die too, and everyone sees it. No amount of money can erase what I’m hoping millions of people will see. Outrage would mean no amount of money can persuade the justice system. 

That’s what I’m hoping for, at least.

Thinking that Connie will kill me is a gamble, but I’m certain he will because I know him. I really know him. I know he’s wanted to kill me for a long time, and once he gets what he thinks is a flash drive with evidence, he can finally do it. Killing me means killing his biggest threat.

And, there’s also the fact that you manipulated him with my kid. 

I knew mentioning that on TV could be what will finally push him into killing me.

The flash drive I plan to give him is fake. There’s nothing on it. The real one is in my office. I don’t want to risk giving that up, dead or alive. It could come in handy. Who knows.

I had to take a page out of Connie’s book and make a few jerks rich, but I poured money into ensuring that Connie goes to a specific prison where he will never be able to escape, assuming he gets arrested and doesn’t get away after killing me. I hope not, or else this will all be pointless.

But that isn’t the only reason I have to do all of this.

I married you because I love you, that’s true, but I also did it so that you’ll get my life insurance once I die.

Connie took everything from you, but everything I own, everything that belongs to me, I give to you. He can’t touch it.

You won’t have to depend on anyone anymore. You’ll be able to live comfortably now, which is all I want for you. You won’t be alone, either. Erwin and Hange will look after you, I know it. Eren’s still around, and knowing him, he isn’t going anywhere.

But, Y/N, I want you to grow old. I want you to become the playwright you always wanted to be. I want you to be happy, even if I’m not around to see it.

The rest of this photo album is blank. Fill it with whatever you want. Pictures from the past. Pictures you’ll take in the future. 

And once you’re happy and free from all this pain and trouble, share it with someone. 

You were my one true love, and I will never regret dying for you, Y/N.

Sincerely, your husband, Levi

—

— CANADA, TWO WEEKS LATER —

The disgustingly small hideout was once again Connie’s residence as he hid out from the rest of the world. Now, oddly enough, it felt smaller. More suffocating. 

Connie slowly paced back and forth around the tiny living room.

How long could he truly stay here? Was this truly a situation he couldn’t toss money at? With the entire world watching, he had no choice but to accept his fate. He had gone too far by giving in to his bloodlust, all in the name of evidence and revenge.

The computer sitting on his desk against one of the plain living room walls suddenly dinged. It was an indication that he had received a new email.

He would have ignored it. It was probably some sort of advertisement or business that could wait until morning. 

Despite thinking this, Connie found himself walking to his desk, sitting down in the chair, and moving his mouse around to fully awaken his computer — it was as if his mind and body were no longer in sync.

When the bright screen displayed his inbox, an unsettling chill ran up his spine when he read the name of the sender from an email delivered thirty seconds ago. With a trembling hand, he clicked it.

Levi Ackerman (no subject)

Connie,

If you’re getting this email, that means you have successfully murdered me. Good job.

But, if you’re able to read this, that means you aren’t behind bars somewhere, and my plan has failed.

I’m worried that it will fail. I’m worried that even after I set you up and I die by your hand, the people I care for will still be in danger because the shitty cops can’t find you, or maybe, the public doesn’t care about both me and Armin dying as much as I hope they do, and their lack of outrage means that you can pay off law enforcement once again and get away with it all. I don’t know. 

But that’s why I’m writing this email and scheduling for it to be sent after a certain date, because I know that if you see it, you’re still a free man, and you can hurt everyone I care for. 

So, I want to talk to you one last time.

People often wonder why someone like me became a manager. I don’t give a damn about fame or music. I told myself that it was because I wanted to look after Eren. His family took care of my cousin, so I wanted to help him accomplish his dreams and protect him. I did a shit job doing that, clearly.

But I also became a manager because of you, too.

I know a thing or two about shitty childhoods, Connie. When I met you after your time in prison, you had that same look that all troubled kids have, and believe it or not, I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to be successful, and to rub it in the face of everyone who hurt you and doubted you.

So, when I witnessed you become a monster with my own eyes, I did nothing. Hurt people hurt other people. I knew that. 

But I made the wrong decision back then.

If I had done something back then, if I had been there for you in a different way like I should have been, maybe things would have turned out differently now. Maybe you could have gone down a better path.

I can’t say. 

But I’m sorry, Connie. I really am. I let you down. I let everyone down. Leading musicians into what I knew would be a horrific situation contract-wise is something I will never forgive myself for, a burden I can’t shake, so my death won’t just serve as part of a setup to imprison you, but it’ll be my freedom.

But, Connie, it’s not too late to start over. It’s not too late to become a better person, the person you should and would have been if someone had been there for you all those years ago.

That’s why I’m reaching out.

Please leave Y/N alone. Leave everyone else alone. I’m begging you. Let my death be enough.

Anyway, if I survive, then I’ll come back and delete this email before it sends. I doubt I will, though. But, if I do live, then that means you are really willing to accept my deal for peace (then I’m the asshole for trying to set you up, but whatever.)

If that’s the case, if you are willing to have peace, then maybe, I could help you find your own form of happiness too. In the future, we could have tea and talk about all of it once everything dies down. 

But if that doesn’t happen, and you kill me, then I forgive you. 

Sincerely, Levi

—

When tears brimmed in Connie’s waterline, he was uncertain what emotion had provoked such a reaction from him. Sadness? Anger? Regret? 

Either way, his trembling hand moved the mouse, dragging the cursor to a little garbage can icon, and he deleted the email.

—

It wasn’t déjà vu. 

Yes, seeing yet another casket lowered into the ground at the hands of Connie Springer was familiar. The horrific pain was recurring. But this time, at this depressing, heartbreaking funeral, you didn’t cry uncontrollably. Your legs didn’t give out. 

You stood there in yet another black dress, but you were emotionless. Speechless. Eyes dry. 

Your misery was an old friend. Travesty was like a neverending dream. 

But it wasn’t your familiarity with pain that resulted in your unsettling composure. 

It was because you were too angry to properly mourn. 

After all, Connie was still gone, which meant Levi Ackerman had died for nothing, and you refused to let that happen.

No longer would you sit around, having to be consoled and cared for by others. No longer would you sit on the receiving end of every action at the hands of that monster you so desperately wanted to find.

It was time to make Connie suffer too.

And you’d become as twisted as he was to do it.

—

— THREE YEARS LATER —

“I’m nervous, Mom, oh my goodness. What if they changed their minds or something? What if I mess up?” 

Jane Caddell wiped her sweaty hands off on her pants leg as her mom pulled into an empty spot in the spacious, multi-level parking garage.

“You’ll be fine, sweetie.” The older woman said. “I'll be right next to you the entire time, okay? You should be excited!”

“I am!” The blonde-haired nineteen-year-old girl grinned nervously, glancing down at her nice outfit to make sure there wasn’t any lint or cat fur. “I’m just . . . I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“You can be scared, honey. All that matters is that you do it anyway. What you don’t want to be, though, is late. So let’s go.”

The mother and daughter got out of their car, a white vehicle with a Wisconsin license plate, which stuck out in a place like California.

Holding hands, they made their way into the enormous, fancy building. Designing it must have been an architect’s dream. It was rather extravagant — white, mainly, with golden finishes and black accents stretching throughout the lobby and hallways. 

Jane and her mother couldn’t help but stare, wide-eyed, at the beauty that was just a tiny fraction of the first floor alone. 

After meeting the receptionist sitting behind a massive desk, also with golden finishes, they waited for their escort — a tall, blonde-haired man — and made their way to the hallway of elevators.

As they did so, a well-known pop singer walked by. It only intensified Jane’s inner panic. She couldn’t calm her racing heartbeat.

They arrived outside of a spacious, modern office. The man who escorted them, and also doubled as head of security, held the door open, and nervously, the mother and daughter stepped in. 

“Your 12:30 appointment has arrived,” the man said.

“Thank you, Erwin.” 

After giving you a nod, he left, leaving the mother and daughter in your grand office, which looked like a mini version of the lobby several floors down.

You sat in a chair behind a desk with your name imprinted along it.

With a smile, you looked up at the two visitors, and softly, you said, “Have a seat, please.”

They took their positions in the two white chairs in front of your desk. 

“Welcome to Arlert Records, ladies. Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh, um,” the mother looked at her nervous daughter, “that would be nice, yes! What do you have?”

“We have everything here.”

The mother laughed in disbelief. 

“Oh, well, just water will be fine.”

You pressed on the tiny, bluetooth earpiece in your right ear. 

“Two waters,” you requested.

Darting your eyes between them both, and said, “It’ll be just a moment, ladies.”

“Okay, that’s perfectly fine,” the mother smiled politely. The older woman made eye contact with her anxious daughter, then flickered her blue eyes in your direction with a little nod of her head.

Eventually, her daughter took the hint.

She leaned forward, extending her trembling hand, and nervously, but with a smile, she said, “It’s n-nice to meet you, Mrs. Ackerman. I’m Jane Caddell.”

“The pleasure is mine, Jane,” you shook the girl’s sweaty, warm hand. “And, please, call me Y/N.”

“So,” clearing your throat, you paused, looking into Jane’s blue eyes. “I know you have gone over the finer details of your contract with legal representatives, but I wanted to personally meet you myself and welcome you to the record label.”

“Thank you so much,” Jane grinned brightly. “It’s a dream come true!”

After giving two knocks, a woman walked in carrying a tray. She sat down two glasses of iced water with lemons on the rim on the table in between the two chairs. After receiving thanks from the mother and daughter, she left.

“You remind me of myself when I was younger, Jane,” you leaned back in your seat. “Unfamiliar with Hollywood, having nothing to rely on except a beautiful voice. They used to call me a diamond-in-the-rough, you know.”

Jane laughed nervously. Once again, she wiped her hands off of her pants. 

“Anyway, I plan on making you a star, Jane. I hope you weren’t too attached to that retail job of yours, because you won’t need it anymore.”

A tear rolled down Jane’s cheek. 

Were you telling the truth? Would she no longer have to work double shifts at Walmart just to help her mother out with the neverending bills?

“This all just sounds too good to be true, I mean, I can’t believe it. My daughter . . . a star.” The mother reached out, grabbing ahold of her daughter’s hand. “What happens now?”

“Well, this is completely optional, but I would recommend moving down here to Los Angeles, or as close to the city as you can get, that way you both won’t have to constantly travel back and forth.” You adjusted yourself in your seat. “But, career-wise, you will work with our songwriters and producers to create your first official song. One of my signed artists, Jean Kirstein, has created countless amount of hit singles and albums for other artists, so I would like for you to work with him. In the meantime, when you’re not in the studio, you will have to take a couple of lessons — private classes, if you will — for media training, stage presence, and things of that nature. While you’re working hard, my company will be promoting you until you become a household name. How does that sound?”

Excitedly, the doe-eyed mother and daughter rambled on and on about their excitement. 

How innocent they were, having no clue what Hollywood was truly like.

Pitiful. 

The meeting came to an end around thirty minutes later, after discussing more career-establishing details. And, once they were escorted out, your fake smile faded away. You were left with nothing except the soulless expression that graced your face over the last few years, nothing more.

Pressing your earpiece, you softly said, “Send Jean Kirstein to my office, now.”

Ten minutes later, Jean appeared in your office, opening the door with his hand, which had a beautiful engagement ring on it. 

He took a seat in one of your chairs.

“Something wrong?” He asked plainly.

“Not at all,” you crossed your legs. “I signed a new artist recently. Her name is Jane Caddell. I want you to help her out. Write her songs, produce her music, do whatever is necessary to make sure her first album dominates the Billboard.”

“No problem,” Jean nodded. “Anything else?”

Tilting your head a bit, you questioned, “How are you doing? I haven’t talked to you in a while. It’s good to see you.”

Truth be told, Jean was in your massive building almost every single day, mainly in one of the recording studios, but your paths rarely crossed. After all, he was a solo artist now, making music for himself with the exception of moments like this, where you asked him to help out other artists.

He didn’t mind one bit. After all, there weren’t any silent men around to abuse him, and he was no longer living in anyone else’s shadow. 

He was happy. Truly. 

“I’m fine,” Jean smiled softly. “Great, actually. My wedding’s in a few months. We’re sending invitations out soon, and we’d love for you to come.”

“Maybe,” you replied, giving him a fake grin, one that he could see right through, but decided not to comment on. 

There was, perhaps, one thing in his life that wasn’t perfect.

You.

Someone he considered to be a close friend now after everything that has happened.

After all, he hadn’t seen you flash a real smile in years. Forgotten what your amazing laugh sounded like. What worried him more than anything, was that with every passing day, every moment that Armin and Levi went without justice, you were becoming more and more like the very person law enforcement failed to hunt down.

Manipulating others to achieve your goals.

Dominating Los Angeles and the entertainment industry.

There were some differences, though. Those you were willing to hurt financially, emotionally, or physically were often targets because they hurt your friends and artists intentionally or unintentionally. Everyone you cherished was cared for. Even so, Jean couldn’t help but question your values nowadays. It seemed as if money was all that mattered.

Money, and being merciless.

Shortly after Levi’s death, CS Records shut down completely. Some artists and employees enjoyed their newfound freedom, but the majority of people felt lost and were worried about what the absence of a record label — one that was known for paying their artists and employees insanely well — would mean for their careers.

That was when you started your own company with the help of Levi’s money. 

It had blossomed tremendously over the last few years. Artists and employees who previously worked for CS Records now worked for you. 

And that wasn’t all.

Arlert Records was only one of your companies. 

Ackerman Studios, for example, was your film company, and both businesses, along with others, existed underneath your global mass media entertainment conglomerate, The F/N L/N Corporation. The headquarters for it were in another California city about forty minutes away. 

You were now worth billions. Your name was worth billions. Your companies were worth billions.

The unspeakable amount of wealth you possessed was far greater than what Connie had ever pocketed, and in only three years.

If only you were happy. 

“Well, I better get going,” you started to get out of your chair. “I need to go down to headquarters today, and the film studio. There’s business to attend to.”

“Wait,” Jean stood up as well. “Do you want some company? I can come with-”

“No. I’m fine.”

With that, you headed for the door, heels clicking against the ground as you said, “There’s lots of work to do, Jean. Get back to it, and I’ll see you later.”

“Someone lock up my office in about five minutes,” you ordered into your earpiece.

—

Four bodyguards accompanied you during your transportive journey to your film studio across town.

Filmmakers, actors, and productive crew members were hard at work — either surrounded by green screens and cameras or shooting inside of the houses and buildings you build on the surrounding land of your property — everyone creating interesting movies that would certainly dominate the box office next year.

However, today, your business was with a very specific director named Brox Garrett.

A stupid name for a stupid man.

In your office in the main building, you sat on top of your desk, legs crossed, two bodyguards at your side.

Then, that stupid man with the stupid name entered, a smug look on his face.

“Brox! It’s good to see you,” you lied with a beautiful smile. “Have a seat.” 

“I’m fine with standing-”

“Have a seat.”

His bottom made contact with a chair instantly. Your kind, yet assertive tone was frightening. 

“I’m not happy with you, Brox. Do you know why?”

The middle-aged man gulped a bit, terrified to answer. 

“I take your silence as a sign that you don’t.” You frowned at him. “I’m not happy because I truly, truly hate myself right now. I hate myself for being such a fool when I hired you, the hotshot director who promised me that a fantastic action film would be released this next year.”

“We’re not that far off schedule, we just-”

“Stop talking, please.” You raised your hand. He didn’t say another word. “Anyway, I’ve had a very busy week. The last thing I wanted to do today was come down to the film studio, but here I am, all because I hired you. A fool. So, tell me, whose job was it to make sure Annie Leonhart’s harness was fully operational before shooting a jumping scene? As the director, it’s your job to double-check those things, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Annie’s a very close friend of mine. Someone I absolutely adore. And, now, she’s recovering from a broken leg and a concussion.” You sighed. “So, that’s exactly how you’re going to leave here today . . . with a broken leg and a concussion.”

You got off of your desk, making your way towards the door, whereas your bodyguards stayed behind, glaring at the director. 

“Wait, wait, wait-”

“Oh,” you turned back right before leaving, “and you’re fired, by the way. I’ll see to it that you never get a job in this industry ever again.”

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out a small packet, and tossed it at him, the wrapper crinkling as he caught it with trembling hands.

He glanced down at the item.

It was a beef-flavored pack of ramen noodles.

“For you and your children to share,” with a soft smile, you whispered, “use it wisely.”

He shouted something as you closed the door — what he said, you couldn’t have cared less — and you left him trapped in the office with your bodyguards who would make sure he left in the same condition his careless actions put Annie in.

One of your assistants, who was waiting outside of your office for you, perked up as soon as you came into view, clenching her iPad in preparation to take note of all the orders she was certain you’d bark at her. 

“Please make sure Annie is recovering well. Let’s send her on a vacation once she’s healed. Two weeks. Somewhere tropical. Write that down.”

“Yes ma’am,” your assistant immediately jotted that down. “It’s about time to cover Hange Zoe’s bills. Would you like to make any adjustments before I send the funds?”

“Yes,” you started walking down a hallway with multiple movie and TV show posters made by your studio hanging on the walls as decor, and your assistant trailed behind. “Their cat’s sick, so I’ve heard. Send enough money to cover the vet bills, and enough to buy a new cat if this one doesn’t pull through. In fact, just triple the amount we usually send. I don’t care how much they protest, either.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Does anyone else need anything?”

“Uh . . .” your assistant checked her notes, double checking to make sure that Hange, Erwin, Jean, Annie, and Sasha were all taken care of.

Mikasa hadn’t been in contact with you in years. 

Years.

But, according to Jean, she was doing alright, coping with everything that had happened by continuing to climb mountains and dive in the ocean, traveling from one country to the next.

Reiner, lovingly, didn’t need or want anything from you.

He did keep his word and traveled to Los Angeles about twice a year to check up on you. However, upon hearing how you’ve changed, he wanted you to come visit him down in the South. Even so, he knew good food and kind people couldn’t fix your problems like last time, but it was worth a shot, he figured. 

But you declined every invitation.

Then, lastly, there was Eren, who had spiraled after Levi’s death. But, he was starting to heal from his dark mental state. The same couldn’t be said for you.

“As far as requests involving money and career opportunities, all of your friends, clients, and employees are cared for, and all of your upcoming business events are all planned out. However, there are some . . . social requests.”

“Social?” You stepped into an elevator with the young woman.

“Yes ma’am,” she nodded, then darted her eyes down to her iPad. “Reiner invited you to yet another barbeque . . . Jean’s having a party . . . Erwin’s-”

“No, no,” you raised your hand, shaking your head. “I don’t have time for any of that. Just send everyone who has an upcoming event a gift of some sort.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

You knew what your friends were trying to do. They wanted to bring out the human side of you. The side that smiled. Laughed. Cared about things other than the entertainment industry and wealth. 

And, for a while, you promised them that, one day, you would show up for them.

Eventually, you would attend Hange and Erwin’s Thanksgiving dinners. You would grab drinks with Annie and Sasha. Teach underprivileged kids how to sing and play piano with Jean. Go down to Tennessee and visit Reiner and his family.

All of those promises were made and broken. 

But your friends never gave up on you, no matter how much you wished they would.

—

Together, you and your assistant traveled to the marvelous headquarters of The F/N L/N Corporation. There, the business you needed to attend to wasn’t directly connected to the entertainment industry. There, your business was personal. On the top several floors, men and women worked incredibly hard to keep your companies running, handling business, managing talent, and making your bank accounts grow. But, down in the basement to which you were escorted, a different set of employees were working on something entirely different. “I think you’ll be pleased, Mrs. Ackerman,” your escort said, guiding you down the twisty hallways and into a secure room with bright computers and intelligent minds at work. “I better be,” you replied. “If I traveled all this way for nothing, all of you are getting fired.” Stepping into the room, a dark-haired man looked at you with an unreadable expression — as if his soul was trapped somewhere between happiness and fear. “What?” You questioned, glancing around at the other faces staring at you. “What is it?” “We found him, Mrs. Ackerman. We found Connie.”

A photograph of Armin and Levi’s murderer appeared on a big display screen at the front of the room. There the bastard was, wearing a hood and sunglasses to conceal his identity. But, while the average Joe strolling down the street might not have recognized him with a hood on his head, surveillance cameras would. Weeks ago, Connie was assumed to be in Canada. Getting access to his old bank transactions had shown he had a house built out there years ago. It was almost as if he was prepared for his future, knowing that it would be filled with nothing but trouble. However, the details were locked up pretty tight, leaving no specific address that could be tracked down. But there he was. “Looks like he’s leaving some sort of market, so I’m guessing he might live close,” you commented, eyes darting down to the little brown bag in his fist. “Give us a week, and I’m certain we’ll be able to pin him down exactly.” “You have three days,” you started to walk away. “Address or not, I’m going to Canada, and I’m not leaving until I find him.” You could see it now, boarding a jet with your team of security, and finally being able to get your hands on Connie. Then, everyone could live safely. No longer would everyone who was affiliated with him need bodyguards surrounding them or their properties constantly.  And, best of all, Armin and Levi would have justice. Peace.

—

There was something rather somber about your days coming to an end. While you might have had one of the biggest mansions in Los Angeles, which was a gorgeous piece of modern, chateau-inspired art, it only intensified your loneliness. Your driver pulled down around your divine water fountain, dropping you off in front of the grand staircase that led to your double front doors. Your heels clicked with every step, the sound of it echoing into the night. In your house, you had live-in security and staff, sure — but they were employees. They did nothing to fill the gaping hole in your chest.  Before you reached your front doors, a moving figure caught your eye. Glancing up, the startling sight of someone sitting on your steps made you gasp. “Eren?” You frowned. “What are you doing here? You scared me.” “Sorry.” The man stood up from where he sat.  “No one tossed you off of my property?” Glaring, you added, “Everyone knows I don’t like visitors. Someone’s getting fired for this.” “No, don’t fire anyone, it’s my fault. I was trying to come see you, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I asked Erwin, and he said I could wait for you here.” Your face visibly softened. Erwin knew you wouldn’t dare fire him for this, but to disrespect your wishes and allow something like this only meant one thing: even he was trying to cure your loneliness, just like the rest of your friends. Of course, none of them were as persistent or stubborn as Eren Yeager.

“Why’d you want to see me? Do you need something?” “Yeah,” Eren smiled sadly. “I needed to see you.” “Well, I can’t help you with that.” You walked past him. Being alerted of your presence, a bodyguard standing by one of the doors opened it for you. “Go home.” Suddenly, Eren’s hand was wrapped around your arm, halting your footsteps.  “Wait,” he said.  “I wasn’t sure if you’d want this, but here.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a little box, and handed it to you. “Happy birthday.” Your eyes, which bore into his, glistened with utter confusion, and a look of shock that silently asked the question: You remembered? Slowly, you opened the gift. It was a ring, and not a last-minute purchase from Pandora. It was a silver band with a precious, bright gemstone.  “Thank you,” you mumbled. “It’s beautiful.” “You’re welcome,” he gave a soft smile. “Have a good night, okay?” He started to walk away, but he barely made it three steps down before you called his name. “Eren, wait.” The former rockstar turned around, gazing at you with curiosity, confusion, and hopefulness. “Do you want. . .” you sighed, fighting against the self-hatred you felt from being vulnerable. “Do you want to come inside for a little while?” When Eren smiled, it was as if no time had passed, as it was the same beautiful smile he gave you when you first met.

Red wine trickled and swooshed around as it was poured into the two glasses sitting on a table in the middle of your wine cellar. Eren preferred other alcoholic beverages over wine, but he’d be a fool to complain. After all, this was the first time you and him had hung out in over a year. He was curious about what had made you want to let him into your residence but refused to ask. But, once again, that expressional face of his betrayed him. As he sipped his beverage, you could see the curious gaze within his emerald eyes, along with his slightly furrowed brows, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “If you’re wondering why I invited you inside,” you paused, putting the expensive wine bottle to the side. “It’s not because it’s my birthday. I’m celebrating something else right now.” “What is it?” “Well,” your face changed into a serious, yet excited look. “I’m getting closer to finding Connie. Surveillance cameras spotted him.” “That’s great,” Eren smiled. He was happy, truly. While the police were still looking, they had failed to make any progress over the last three years.  Eren did everything he could, which amounted to never shutting up in front of the cameras, and opening his mouth about everything CS Records had done to him and Jean Kirstein.  With your help, he was able to get a few Silent Men tossed in prison, but not Connie. As badly as he wanted him to be punished, there was one thing he wanted even more. He wanted your old self to come back. “After he’s dealt with, do you think you’ll come hang out with your friends every now and then?” Eren asked softly. “We all miss you.” You took another sip of your wine.  “I can’t make any promises, Eren. Finding him won’t bring Armin and Levi back, and that’s what really . . .” your glass clinked as you sat it on top of a marble coaster. “Everyone’s always telling me that they would want me to be happy. Move on. And I know that, believe me, but what if I don’t feel better after Connie’s dead or in prison? What if I feel this shitty for the rest of my life? I keep telling myself that once they get justice, everything will go back to normal, but what is there to go back to? In the beginning, all I had was Armin. In the end, all I had was Levi. Who’s left?” “Your friends, Y/N.” Eren leaned forward. “We’re still here, and we aren’t going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere, you know that. Me, Jean, Annie, Sasha, Erwin, Hange . . . Reiner and Mikasa might not be close by, but they’re still here too.” “You say that, but Mikasa hasn’t said a word to me in years,” you took another sip of your wine, wishing that it was something stronger. “Have you reached out?”  You didn’t respond, which, indirectly, was an answer in itself. “If you don’t stop a friend from walking away, then you’re the one who has to reach out to bring them back. That’s how it works.” “Is that what you’re doing now? To me?” You raised your eyebrows at the man, who suddenly had grown wiser over the last few years.  “No,” Eren’s eyes darted down at the exquisite wooden table. “With you, I’m the one who walked away and I’m the one who’s reaching out. I just wish you wouldn’t push me away.” “Don’t take it personally.”

A few moments of silence passed.

Eren suddenly pulled two things out of his pocket. The first item was an old, braided, paracord keychain with faded green and brown colors. The second item was something you recognized. It was an overused, bent, blue bookmark. “This,” Eren held up the keychain, “belonged to Marco. He put his house key on this thing. I’ve kept it for years.”  “This,” Eren put the bookmark on the table, “belonged to Armin. He left it at my house that night before he was shot. Those two never knew each other, but they had a lot in common, you know? Both too kind for their own good.” “Both were killed by Connie.” You didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but you couldn’t help it, even if Marco’s death was an accident.  “Anyway, I just like to hold on to things people love, sometimes. They don’t necessarily have to be dead, either. Jean’s guitar pick is at my house . . . I have a scarf Mikasa used to love wearing . . . I have your-” “Do you have anything of Levi’s?” Cutting him off wasn’t intentional, but luckily, he didn’t mind.  “Yeah,” Eren’s eyes darted down to the ring he gifted you. “That ring.” “What?” You gave a confused frown. “What does that mean?” “I didn’t realize it at the time, but when Levi and I were talking at the hospital a few years ago, he told me in great detail what he wanted your wedding ceremony to look like. Even though you were already married, he was still going on and on about it. After he died, I realized that he wasn’t telling me his plans. He was trying to help me plan.” Eren smiled sadly. “I guess he thought that after his death, after grieving for a few months, you’d come right back to me. I don’t think he knew how much his death would change things. I don’t think he understood just how much you loved him, or how much I’d miss him. I used to look up to him, you know? But . . . I know you and me aren’t . . .” Eren stopped speaking. A pained look flashed in his eyes.  “Either way, no matter what, that ring was meant for you, so I wanted to give it to you.” A soft, miserable laugh of disbelief escaped you.  As smart as Levi, he was truly a fool if he thought moving on from someone like him would be so easy. No. Both he and Armin had left you forever changed. “I remember him promising me that I’d have a proper wedding with a proper ceremony. I didn’t know he wanted it to happen with someone who wasn’t him.” “Hey, don’t get the wrong idea,” Eren sat up a bit. “He did want that stuff with you, he just knew it couldn’t happen. That’s why he passed it on . . . to me.”  You nodded, indicating that you understood. And truly, you did. You understood just how cruel the world was. “Sometimes, I forget I’m not the only person grieving.” You reached out, touching Eren’s arm. “You know a thing or two about it as well, hm?” “Worst feeling in the world.” Eren suddenly sighed, masking his grief behind a false smile. “I guess I better get going. It’s late.” A frown appeared across your face. You wanted to ask him to stay, and knowing him, he would have, but you only stood up, getting ready to walk him out.  “Once all this is over, come find me, okay?” Eren smiled beautifully. No matter what, his grin could and would always make you go weak at the knees.  “I won’t make any promises,” you held onto one of the double doors as he stepped through.  “But thank you for coming over. It was nice. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

Eren gave you one last smile and made his way towards his car.

—

— CANADA, ONE WEEK LATER —

Connie knew it was a trap. 

A bearded guy was urging him to come into his family-owned bar, prattling on and on about how much he sought customers, and when Connie stepped into the dusty environment that smelt of wood, he knew something was off.

There was not a soul in the bar.

Connie sipped on the cheap bottle of beer, sleeved elbows pressed into the counter as the bartender watched him.

Connie cracked open a peanut. Sipped on his beverage. Listened to the soft music playing in the background. 

If this was a trap, just as his gut told him, then he wanted it to happen already because he was tired of this life. Tired of running. Tired of having nothing. 

The bar doors opened. Connie didn’t bother turning around, but he could hear it being locked.

Finally, he thought.

He could hear footsteps approaching, and he recognized them. It was the same rhythmic pattern of the person who once lived in his old mansion, walking up and down the halls, glancing into every room to see what he was doing. 

“I thought I told you I’d kill you if I ever saw your face again?” Connie shouted out, taking another swig of his beer.  

“And I told you that when you manipulate someone, you end up teaching them all of your tricks.” 

You made your way up to Connie, grabbing a seat on the stool next to him, crossing your legs as you smiled devilishly.

The bartender pulled out a gun, glaring at the former entrepreneur. 

He must’ve been some sort of bodyguard, as well as a shitty actor.

“You come here for revenge or some shit?” Connie rubbed the dark circles underneath his eyes. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to kill me now? ‘Cause I don’t think you have it in you.”

“Do you want me to try and kill you? Is that why you made it so easy for me to find you recently?” You tilted your head a bit. “I couldn’t piece together why, after all these years, would we suddenly be able to catch your face on camera. But it’s starting to make sense now.”

“I just wanted to see if what I heard was true. That you’ve turned out to be another version of me. Personal guards, business owner-”

“My businesses are greater than CS Records ever will be — or ever was, I should say. In such a short amount of time, I’m already more successful than you ever were,” you reached out, teasingly touching Connie’s shoulder. He could feel your hatred for him just in the way your fingertips graced his clothed skin.

“You can say that, but we’re the same, you and me. I started out only hurting people who hurt my friends and employees too. Manipulating people to make myself richer. Then, I started hurting anyone who made me look bad. All you need now is some fresh-faced, diamond-in-the-rough artist who’ll show up and ruin every-fucking-thing you worked hard to build. I suggest you find a hideout for yourself too.” 

Connie tried to take another swig of his beer, but the bottle was empty. 

“I had a great thing going until your ass came to Hollywood. Everyone was happy. Not just me, but my artists too. Then you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh? Why the fuck couldn’t you stay in New York?”

“I wish I stayed in New York too,” your voice was soft. “I wish I never met you.” 

 “Take it from me, Y/N.” For the first time since you arrived, Connie looked into your eyes. “Don’t fuck up like I did. Get your shit together . . . before it’s too late.” “Look who made words of encouragement their fun, new hobby,” you spoke with fake, sugary enthusiasm. “Keep working on that while you’re in prison.”

“What?” Connie furrowed his brows, his eyes darting over to the man with the gun. “You’re not gonna kill me?” 

“And put you out of your misery? No way,” you smiled cruelly, pushing his arm as if you were talking with a friend — chatting with a dear old pal. “No, see, what’s going to happen now is that you and I are both going to live, and we’ll both be miserable, because you’ll have nothing, and I’ll spend the rest of my life grieving. But, the only difference is that you’ll be behind bars, and I’ll be behind my office desks.”

You got up from your seat. 

“So, are you going to try to make a run for it, or will you make this nice and easy?”

“I’m not running.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I’m tired, Y/N.” Connie got up from his seat. “Please don’t send me back to prison. Just kill me or something . . . Please.”

Your mind was made up, that much was clear, but Connie figured that he’d still try his hardest to change your mind. 

As the images of prison flashed through his mind, he was certain, for a fact, that he would rather burn in hell. “Hearing you beg like that reminds me of when I begged you not to imprison me after my album release party. Remember that?” With a small, little laugh, you started to make your way towards the doors. 

As soon as you unlocked the doors and stepped through them, your team of security bombarded the tiny, old-fashioned bar, and successfully detained Connie.

After yet another week, the prison Levi had poured his money into years ago was more than willing to continue with the deal. Not that he had any ounce of power to influence anyone to free him, to begin with. 

But, after a chaotic session of trials, overwhelming evidence, and teary-eyed speeches, Connie Springer would die in prison.

And, more importantly, Armin Arlert and Levi Ackerman could rest in peace.

—

— ONE MONTH LATER —

You were nervous. 

Panicked, even. 

But, even so, you knocked on the light brown door to Eren’s childhood home, which was rather nice, given that his dad was a doctor.

Carla answered with a look of curiosity, wiping her hands off on a kitchen towel as she greeted you. 

Even though the Yeager family had briefly moved to Maine for their safety, Eren still owned their home, hopeful for days like these, in which they could come back. And here they were. Right where they belonged.

“Hi, is Eren here?” You asked with as much kindness as you could muster. 

“He sure is,” Carla stepped to the side, welcoming you into the foyer. “Eren! Come here!”

Eren often spent Sunday afternoons visiting his family, so you heard. It was a new habit, one that came to him after almost losing his life and having his mother’s safety put in danger.

So, as it was 1:30 on the last day of the weekend, you had sought him out here, and from down a hallway, he approached, an amused grin appearing once he realized you were here.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, glancing down at your shoes, then back up at him. “I know you’re spending time with your family and all, but I’m busy next weekend and the weekend after that, and weekdays are no better, so I was just wondering if I could . . . um . . .”

“Sure,” Eren agreed to whatever plans you hadn’t yet planned. “Let’s go.”

Minutes later, you and Eren were strolling down the street, side by side. Your eyes scanned his clothes. Something was rather different, and rather quickly, you pieced together what it was. He was wearing a white shirt with some sort of logo on it. His sweatpants were light blue.

Dressed only expecting to see his mother and father today, perhaps some cousins as well, certainly, but even so, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing what it symbolized.

“You’re not wearing black,” you pointed out. 

“Huh?” Eren looked down at his outfit. “Oh. Yeah. I love black clothes, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nice to not be forced to have to wear it, you know?”

He truly meant what he said long ago — that he was done living in the spotlight.

“What have you been doing lately? Since you’re not a rockstar anymore?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Everything.” 

“Those are two different things, Eren.”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Eren kicked a rock, his hands in his pocket. “I’ve been hanging out with my family, traveling, trying new foods — oh, you ever try octopus before? Don’t eat it, you’re not missing anything — uh . . . what else . . . I’ve been playing guitar, which is pretty easy even with eight fingers . . .  I have time to watch movies now. I can nap. I don’t know, but I’m happy.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, I can tell. Trust me.”

Eren smiled gently. You were both silent for a second, then, he asked, “Why’d you wanna come see me?”

You hesitated to answer for a moment, but then, you decided to tell him the truth.

“Connie . . . he gave me a bit of a wakeup call. Told me that I was headed down the same path as him. In fact, he warned me to change. Can you believe that?”

For once, in the longest time, Eren felt grateful for Connie’s existence. As stupid as he was, the idiotic, murderous man was correct.

“He’s right,” Eren said.

“I know. I’ve been wanting to reach out to you all month, but I finally just got the courage. Trying to not be like him won’t be easy, but I’m . . . trying. I went to Levi and Armin’s graves. Told them they could rest peacefully now. I started therapy. I’m hanging out with you. I’m trying.”

Eren halted his footsteps. As soon as he heard a sniffle come from you, he moved in front of you, pulling you in for a hug as a few tears streamed down your cheeks.

“I’m proud of you,” Eren whispered. “I started therapy too. Why do you think I’ve started to become so wise? And you know what he told me? He said that grief becomes manageable. I hope his ass is right. He can afford steak, lobster, and caviar with how much money he’s squeezing outta me because I’m there every week.”

Lightly, you chuckled a bit, although it was more of a puff of air rather than a laugh. 

You weren’t a fool. There was, perhaps, something that could help you feel just a bit better, even if it couldn’t cure your problems completely.

“I think I need to leave L.A. for a little while, maybe for a month. Maybe a year.”

Eren pulled away from you, surprised to hear such a statement coming from you. Your therapist must have cost a fortune too if they were this  incredibly skilled. 

“I agree, but, where are you going?” Eren frowned with worry.

You shrugged. 

“I don’t know, but in a few weeks, I’m going to briefly trust my companies to Erwin and Jean until I return. I think I want to visit the south, maybe. Aside from touring with you, I’ve only been down there once, but I miss it.” Shyly — an emotion you hadn’t experienced in years, you asked Eren, “Do you want to come with me? Maybe?”

Eren smiled. 

He was far from southern. Couldn’t wrap his mind around the sweet tea obsession and being overly friendly to strangers at the grocery store, but he’d go to hell with you if you asked him to. Even now, a few weeks early, he was ready to head home and pack his bags. 

After your long walk, you returned to Eren’s childhood home and had dinner with his family.

—

— TENNESSEE —

As an artist, Eren had the ability to travel the world, as grand in size as it was. Flying from state to state and from country to country was a gift, truly, but he never had the opportunity to explore. To sight-see. To witness the way other people outside of Los Angeles lived their lives — something he was very interested in, as he was a nosy person.

While on tour, he was only able to see backstage dressing rooms, hotels, and stadiums. Nothing more, usually.

But, now, as you and him rode in the backseat of a car, staring at gorgeous mountains and colorful, beautiful trees, he had to admit that it was a much better view than the Hollywood sign. 

Even so, it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the woman sitting beside him, staring out of the window with a soft smile.

Around two hours later, you and Eren arrived at a spacious, modern farmhouse with a black and brown exterior that you purchased solely for this trip.

“It’s nice, right? Perfect place to hide away for a while?” 

You started walking up the steps, and Eren followed as you continued to speak. “And, listen, I don’t expect you to want to stay the entire time, because, like I said, I plan to be here for a few months if not an entire year, so you can leave whenever you’d like.”

“It means a lot that you asked me,” Eren said. “If it’s alright with you, I don’t wanna go anywhere.”

—

The next three days were spent exploring the surrounding tourist attractions. Together, you and Eren admired nature on hiking trails, drove to Nashville to experience music festivals, and of course, introduced yourselves to southern cuisine.

It wasn’t a total escape from the world of flashing lights and cameras, of course, as you and Eren were both still celebrities. 

But, even the simplest disguises — sunglasses and a hat or hood — often prevented people from doing a double take, and you were both able to enjoy yourselves somewhat peacefully.

As the sun started to set, the sky fading from a soft blue to a mesmerizing soft orange, bright and quirky neon signs were now on full display. Nearby, country singers performed on the street with nothing but a nice voice and an acoustic guitar, drawing in small, happy crowds. 

People walked up and down the strip with their friends and families.

As you stood there, waiting patiently for Eren, you couldn’t help but admire them.

They all had someone. 

Loneliness was starting to creep back up within you like an old enemy, a subtle frown appearing on your face. But, just before those negative feelings could overwhelm the happiness you felt right now, Eren's voice snapped you back to your refreshing reality — unintentionally reminding you that you weren’t alone.

He was here, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Never had. 

Never will.

“Here,” he held out a tiny paper plate with peach cobbler on it. “Have you tried this before?”

Taking your plate as he glanced down at his own, you replied, “Yes. It’s really good!”

Your sudden excitement was all the convincing he needed. He bit into the sweet dessert, tasting the soft crust and sweet peaches. It was, indeed, a heartwarming meal, one that made him smile.

“I get why you wanted to come down here,” Eren said, going in for another bite as you took one as well. 

“See?” You sighed happily. “But anyway, tomorrow, I was thinking we could go canoeing. There’s a big lake nearby, and I’ve always wanted to try canoeing.”

“Okay,” Eren grinned.

“We can also go to a spa.” 

“Okay.”

“There’s also a cool restaurant I want to try.”

“Okay.”

Amusingly, you grinned, “is there any chance you want to count grains of sand with me too? You’re agreeing to everything right now. You’re the true definition of being down for whatever.”

“You knew that when I agreed to come to the south for a year on a whim,” Eren took another bite of his cobbler. “It’s nice to see you smile again, you know? You think I’m crazy enough to ruin that by turning down something you wanna do?”

“You’re adorable,” your compliment was mumbled, as, truly, it was something you meant to say in your head, but you spoke unintentionally, and Eren’s never-fading smile only brightened — adorably, of course.

Leaning down a bit, he softly kissed your cheek.

“You’re going to get peach cobbler on my face. That’s nasty.” 

He ignored your little comment, and kissed your cheek again, all because it made you smile.

—

When visiting a different state for longer than a couple of days, there comes a point when hopping from one tourist attraction to the next, trying an abundance of different foods, and relaxing near some sort of body of water had to briefly end to handle real-life adult tasks and responsibilities.

Typically, you would have had your live-in chef stock the fridge with groceries, and it had become a task that you were no longer familiar with doing. 

Every time you opened the refrigerator, there was a variety of food. Always.

However, during your attempts to heal your soul, you left your staff behind in Los Angeles, except for two bodyguards.

Even with Connie locked away, you still faced danger as a billionaire, celebrity, and human being. That was life, unfortunately.

Therefore, when you opened the fridge today, you were quite puzzled to see that — aside from three water bottles and a blue carton of eggs with only two remaining — it was empty.

“Eren,” you called out to the shirtless man in the living room, who just finished showering after working out in the home gym downstairs.

“Yeah?”

“I have to go to the grocery store, I’ll be right back.”

“No, I’ll go, you stay here.” Eren offered, already walking to his room to get fully dressed. 

“We could just go together.” Your suggestion went unanswered.

Shortly after, Eren left.

—

Two hours had passed. 

The closest grocery store wasn’t far. You hadn’t done such mundane things like grocery shopping in an incredibly long time, but it was just the two of you. 

There was no logical reason why he wasn’t back home yet.

You called him, twice, but after following the ringing sounds around your temporary home, you found his phone downstairs in the gym. He must’ve forgotten it while rushing out the door.

Maybe he was having trouble leaving the store. 

Maybe people realized who he was, and he was being bombarded by fans. Did he remember to wear a hat or hood? Did he have sunglasses with him? You couldn’t be certain.

Thirty more minutes passed.

You were pacing back and forth on the porch, waiting for a car to appear in your driveway.

What if he was sick of being around you, and he used this opportunity to escape back to California?

Why else would a man who has won Grammy awards be so excited and eager to go to Walmart?

What if he had gotten hurt? What if Connie did something, somehow? 

What if he had gotten into a car accident? Or a robbery?

What if he was dead?

“Jacob, can you please go to the local Walmart and see if Eren’s okay?” You said to one of your bodyguards who stood nearby, watching you pace around, biting your manicured nails.

“Yes ma’am.”

Moments later, his car drove off.

Your anxiety was all-consuming. The nausea you felt, swirling around in the pit of your stomach, made you consider hovering over the nearest toilet, but no. You couldn’t go back inside. Not now.

After what happened with Levi, never again would you assume that someone you cared for would return home after leaving.

Around twenty minutes drifted on by with you pacing, pacing, and pacing, only to stop when your phone rang. It was your bodyguard, informing you that he couldn’t find Eren at the nearest grocery store.

He promised to check again. Said he’d try a few other stores as well. He said something else too, but by then, you were sitting on the porch step, crying into your hands.

How guilty your other bodyguard felt — standing there, watching you. Rarely did you ever talk to him, and you hadn’t known anything about him aside from his name, which was Carter, but he was a sweet person, and he wanted to comfort his boss. But he couldn’t. His job was to watch over you and keep his eyes open, and only come in contact with you if it was to push or pull you out of harm’s way.

But you were crying. Sobbing. Assuming the worst.

When headlights came into view, you glanced up from your soaking-wet hands. Eren had barely parked the car before he hopped out — forgetting about the groceries entirely — and rushed up the steps before sitting by your side.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked with great worry, rubbing your back soothingly.

Both relief and great aggravation washed over you. 

“Where the hell were you, Eren? I was worried! How long does it take to buy a few groceries?”

Eren turned around, looking at your bodyguard. “Can you give us a minute?” 

Carter nodded and decided to busy himself by bringing the groceries in, putting them away, and telling the other bodyguard to come back.

“I’m sorry,” Eren spoke softly. “I took so long because I bought a lot of groceries, and I ended up talking to some people, and just taking my time. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re such an idiot,” you cried. “Why did you leave so eagerly, then? Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?”

Eren reached over, swiping his thumb across your cheek as he wiped your tears away. “Because I wanted to surprise you. I bought the stuff to make that salad you like. The one that reminds you of Armin? The strawberry chicken one? I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I thought you might’ve gotten hurt, or worse,” you sniffled. “Do you know how terrifying it is? Not knowing if someone you’re in love with will make it back home? Damn it, Eren . . .”

Eren pulled you in closer. From where your head rested near his neck and shoulder, you could feel just how fast his heart was beating.

Perhaps, it was from your confession, although, truthfully, it should have been a fact that he was well aware of. After all, Eren always had a place in your heart — something you told him repeatedly.

Love, in its truest and purest form, doesn’t ever simply die. 

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. You should know that by now.” Eren kissed your forehead. “And I’m in love with you too, but you should know that as well, right?”

A soft laugh escaped you.

When you pulled away from Eren, you stared into charming eyes that gazed into yours with nothing but love, and a tad bit of concern.

“What is it?” He asked.

Your lips were suddenly pressed against his before your new fear of being loved could overwhelm your desire to kiss him. And, god — when his hand cupped the side of your face, lips moving against yourself as if a lost piece of his soul was being restored, it felt as if you were both falling in love all over again, even if you were, perhaps, already there.

— One year later, Eren proposed. He had to outdo himself — create a romantic experience that would shame his former self, who married you in Las Vegas the first time around and tossed together a last-minute wedding.  Though, your marriage back then fit the wild love story you once both shared, but, even so, he had the pen once again, and he was determined to write this new fairytale properly.  And it would start with the perfect proposal. God, was he nervous. He arranged a beautiful display of twinkling fairy lights wrapped around gorgeous trees, flower petals spread on the ground, and he gathered a few musicians to play the violin as you both approached the desired spot. Much to your surprise, he got down on one knee, looking into your eyes with a hopeful gaze, and asked, “Will you marry me?” Eren rose to his feet and kissed you lovingly after you said yes.

— Leaving the South was like waking up from a dream — an amazing, beautiful dream, but, even so, you were determined to make your reality just as perfect. And it started with marrying Eren. Not yet had you returned to Los Angeles. Europe was your next destination, as it was the place where you and Eren were to be remarried. Much like your wedding to Connie, the memorable ceremony was held inside a gorgeous castle with lavish candle chandeliers and pretty flowers, esteemed guests, and a beautiful gown that graced your body — every immaculate detail that Levi had once imagined had come to life.  Upon seeing you in a gorgeous dress, tears streamed down Eren’s cheeks. He couldn’t believe his luck, getting the opportunity to marry you again. And Jean, who was his best man, having mended their friendship over the last few years, teared up a bit too out of complete and utter happiness for you both. They were all there to watch you walk down the aisle. Not only Jean, but Reiner, Hange, Erwin, Annie, Sasha, and even Mikasa — another friendship that was recently mended.  Loving vows were exchanged, romantic gazes cast upon one another. As you stared into the eyes of the man you would spend the rest of your life loving, you said, “I do.”  And you said it for the very last time.

—

No longer was your mansion in Los Angeles a place of loneliness. Eren had moved in, and your friends had visited quite often, filling your home with love and laughter, as it should be.  It wasn’t long before that very special night came, in which Eren thrust into you softly as he moaned, pressing kisses against your naked skin — touching his lips wherever he could. Never had he come so much in his life. He was almost embarrassed about the way he stuffed you, his pretty wife, and moaned your name like a prayer. That was why, although incredibly happy, he wasn’t surprised when you showed him a positive pregnancy test soon after. The best doctors in the world would guide you through your pregnancy.  Having miscarried before, it was tempting to let your pregnancy be consumed with nothing but fear and worry, but this time, you had someone to hold your hand. “I’m right here,” your husband often said. “I’ll always be here.” Giving birth in a hospital bed to a beautiful, healthy baby girl named Nia was one of the greatest, and most chaotic, days of your lives.  But Nia had a father who cried upon holding her, and a waiting room packed with family and friends who also adored her. She had you as well, a mother who would protect her and see to it that she wouldn’t ever know anything other than love and joy.  And thirteen years later, she was sitting outside on the luxurious patio with you, listening to you tell her your life story, which started with your old friend, and a tiny bakery in New York.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

[asgardwinter]

steve harrington and keep driving by harry styles (my two greatest loves)

here we go... thank you for the request!!

occasional

summary | It all happened so naturally, you knew it would hurt when it eventually reached the end of the road.

pairing | Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

warnings | fluff and angst, suggestive themes, allusions to semi-public sex (yeah, idk how we got here), sort of hopeful/bittersweet ending, this sort of delays season 4 for a year so no spoilers :)

word count | 1,3k (blurbs? i don’t know them anymore)

author’s note | idk, i listened to this song in an insane loop and sort of went with a summer love vibe because no one could stop me, but now i’m sad and i want these two to have a very happy ending�� anyways, see it for yourselves :)

song: keep driving by harry styles

Steve Harrington Masterlist | join the taglist! | Main Masterlist

After moving out for college life in Hawkins felt weird.

Going back to your old home for Summer Break brough not only all the memories from your high school year but all related to The Upside Down events and it was… well, it felt even more weird.

You went to Family Video first, a way to get back to the Hawkins atmosphere after a good while you were gone — your mom would certainly kill you if you spent the break anywhere else that wasn’t her home again. There was no way to contain your surprise as you walked inside and saw Steve Harrington on the front of a shelf organizing movies, all that while involved in a playful conversation with Robin Buckley, one of your old friends.

With the Mind Flayer incident being distant by almost a year you ignored the last occurrences of your last month in Hawkins — that included the unexpected friendship between Steve and Robin and how he somehow knew who you were after surviving together in a Russian Military Base.

“I can’t believe it!” Robin said in the middle of whatever Steve was trying to reason with her. “It’s been months since I’ve heard from you.”

She came from behind the counter to give a hug, one that was very much welcomed by you. You truly missed her, distance made things harder and you feared the day one of your only friends in that small town would move on completely from you.

But at least you were still safe from that, it seemed.

“I didn’t mean to take so long to come back here and the phones… they don’t collaborate with a poor girl with too much gossip to tell.” You started to justify your every action before she just smiled and interrupted you.

“I get it, but I’m happy to see that you’re still alive.” Robin was still Robin, you grinned.

“Hi.” Steve finally came from behind the shelf, running his hand through his hair and smiling at you — why was he smiling at you like that? “Long time no see, Y/n.”

“Oh, hi Steve. I’ve been a little bit distant.” You heard Robin scoff the moment “little bit” left your mouth.

“So, now that you’re here, how can I help you?” He gestured around him, making you remember what your intentions were at first.

“Right! I came here to look for a… movie.” You told him the obvious, only five minutes inside the store and robin had enough material to tease you. “Don’t even say anything, Robin! Would you have any suggestions for an indecisive person?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be working here if I didn’t have one now would I?”

Robin told you later he would.

…

If you told any past version of you that you’d be one of those girls in Steve’s car you’d laugh in your own face. But there you were, during a summer break and very much occupied laying in the backseat. It seemed to be one of your favourite pastimes along with finding an excuse to go to the video store and talk with Robin, both of you teaming up against Steve.

Of course, she didn’t know about the other stuff that kept filling your daily schedule, but no one knew about that and it was better like that.

The “secret” rendezvous didn’t start as something intentionally hidden. Going to your house or his house when parents weren’t there was just easier after two casual encounters at a diner. It wasn’t hard to figure out you told no one about it and he neither, so that became a silent agreement.

Yes, the boy you considered a complete douchebag through all your High School years and avoided any possible conversation was now quite busy with the buttons of your blouse and not taking his lips away from yours. Things were different then a year ago.

There was no need to make a big deal about something with an expiration date.

 But in those moments when you were so lost in each other you allowed yourself to think what would be like if it could last, just to hide the question in the darkest corner of your mind.

No need to make a big deal about something with an expiration date.

…

It was comfortable, that’s why you allowed it to happen.

Talking with Steve was good. He knew about the Upside Down even before you did and there were no lies about how you’d spent the last summer fighting a monster from another dimension. Steve was fun and charming, you felt safe with him even as the shadow of your departure came looming above you two.

And that was something you avoided talking till the last minute, you wouldn’t say you forgot because it was completely intentional.

That was the problem with things that flowed way too easily at the start, between wine glasses and late night drives the important stuff kept left out to create a new problem in the future, the type of problem you only stop ignoring until it’s too late.

“I got back to Washington tomorrow.” You suddenly announced.

Steve hit the breaks almost as fast as it, making you gasp with surprise since you were in the middle of the road.

“What?” That was the only thing he could think of asking. What on Earth were you saying?

“I’m going back to college tomorrow.” You repeated it, the nonchalant tone made his heart clench playfully and he had no idea yours was hurting in the exact same way.

“And you just tell me now? Less than 24 hours earlier?”

Your silence only seemed to make things worse, but there was nothing you could do. “You never asked me when I was going back.”

“It is because I was pretty sure you were going to tell me eventually!”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Now I know.”

The quiet and uncomfortable atmosphere was a stranger in that car, but helped the tension to rise more every second you both spent with months shut.

“You should pull out the road.” You suggested in a whisper voice.

Steve took your suggestion in silence and all you wanted was to get out of his car and disappear.

“I guess this is it.” Steve said, pulling on your driveway and parking right in front of your house.

“Steve…”

“No.”

“Hey! I’m sorry, okay? I liked every moment we spent here. A lot. Probably more than I should.” You confessed to him even if Steve avoided looking in your eyes. “But we always knew this wouldn’t work.”

“Just say you don’t want it, assume you think it’s better this way but don’t say ‘this couldn’t work’ like me thinking it could work is the craziest idea you ever heard.” Steve said bitterly and you had no reaction to it besides the tears pooling in your eyes. “If you really wanted…”

“Now this is bullshit, Steve!” You exploded and his face fell.

“What did you say?”

“It makes no sense! It doesn’t mean I like you less, it just means there’s so many things that aren't in our favour right now and… God! I’ll miss you like hell, but I can’t even keep in touch with my friend, Steve.”

“You… like me?”

You frowned at his question. “I like you, I really do. Like, so much I know young me would slap me if she found out.”

“Wow, now that’s a pretty huge risk.” Steve joked and relief washed over you seeing his attempts at going back to your usual behavior.

“I know.” You smiled sadly at him.

The silence was back, the tension had dissipated but the weight of the words that were said was impossible to ignore.

“Well see how it goes. I…” Your rambling was cut off by a soft kiss, also a melancholic one. You wouldn’t dare to say it was a goodbye kiss, it was more of a don’t-wait-another-year-to-come-back-or-I’m-going-to-find-you-myself type of kiss.

“How many days till Winter Break?” Steve asked you when your eyes were still closed.

You didn’t even bother to answer the question, just pulled his lips back to yours by the collar of his uniform.

Taglists:

Everything Stranger Things: @emiscrying @wheresantarctica

[goldensunset]

Xehanort is still the Player (In a Way)

So…playernort deconfirmed. Aka, player reincarnated into that blue-robed figure that apparently raised xehanort from when he was a baby…not xehanort himself. And we’re all torn up about that because I think we can all agree that the concept of the main antagonist having these strange confusing flashbacks to a life that belonged to someone else, and not being sure what to make of it other than that he dearly loves these mysterious people that he sees in his dreams, just kinda hits you in the heart in an indescribably poetic way. And we’re missing that now. Now it turns out he just…absorbed those memories from someone else? They were never even remotely the same person at all? You’re telling me he’s just some sort of hardcore empath?

Well, I don’t buy that. It would be one thing if player just recounted the stories of their childhood to xehanort who was enthralled by the tales so much that he remembered them his whole life. Or that xehanort was so close to player growing up that their emotional state influenced his (it’s just called empathy.) but no; young xehanort has dreams of these very specific memories. even after player has already passed away. I don’t think xehanort could have vividly accurate visual dreams based purely off of second-hand knowledge (aka any stories the player might have simply told him growing up).

Somehow, a copy of the player’s memories have legitimately transferred over into xehanort’s heart. (Which is kind of an absolutely insane implication cuz this is out on some lonely island in the middle of nowhere and far before the time of heart experimentation research in radiant garden anyway. But hey whatever maybe it really is because xehanort was the magical ‘child of destiny.’ Everything else player said about xehanort’s nature was true but xehanort just ended up screwing up the destiny he was supposed to have followed.) Player themself remained intact as their own person- they were never xehanort. But xehanort has, in a way, become part player. Because those memories are an integral part of him now. They belong to him, don’t they?

Xehanort cherishes the people he met only in his dreams as if he really had met them. He grew up alone on the island aside from his parental figure. He dreamed of a bunch of other children like him who all loved each other. They were a comfort to him. He loved them, and in his point of view, these dream friends loved him back. He was in player’s shoes in all these dreams because these are player’s memories, but these scenes played in his mind like they belonged to him. Identity crisis much? Honestly even if it’s not the case, if I were in his situation, I might even start to ask myself if this was a past life of mine. That’s probably how he personally felt about it emotionally speaking, even if logically he knew it wasn’t true.

TL; DR: keep making the bittersweet fanart and comics and stuff. It’s basically still canon compliant. (An identical copy of) part of the player lives on inside xehanort. The only thing that would be different from our fanmade hypothetical reunion theories is that if he ever met these dream friends, they’d never recognize him as a familiar person- they’d just think he heard the story second-hand somewhere somehow.. Which is in itself angsty. He knows them, but they don’t know him.

[amyisherenowitsokay]

claps hands together. hi hope you've been well, sorry i haven't asked much. buuuut. I forgot you wrote a thing until lately. :}

War On Love. How would it have continued/ended, what plot beats where there supposed to be if you remember any, etc?

also this'll sound weird, mainly because I can't really explain it and I'm still working thru it, but I wanted to say thanks for writing it? Finding it again and reading through it reminded me of things I had forgotten about myself for a while. Which has really helped from then to now. So, yeah, as silly as it sounds, thank you. :}

Lmao you're never obligated to interact with me homie, dw. Feel free to send me whatever when you're vibing, but don't also feel pressured to engage. You're too kind.

Long answer under the cut

I go back and forth on whether I'll ever update WoL. It just has so many bad connotations and memories for me about the headspace I was in while writing it, and where I was at emotionally, etc. On the other hand, I'm also incredibly proud of some of the insights I wrote about Gaz's perspective, and the overall plot twists and where it was going. I also still have a TON of writing for it still in bits and pieces, both important chunks and unimportant, AND like 4 chapters of the sequel written.

Sometimes I'm like, well, I could sort of finish it in the same style that like That Thing on Your Wrist and What We Become, which are more written in sort of continuous blurbs with gentle transitions and takes occasions to focus on really important scenes. I think with what I have written, it'd be feasible, but that'd also mean taking time away from my more important projects like Dead Weight and Re:MHNY2, so I hesitate to really commit to anything. You are not the first person to ask though, so that may be something I end up doing in the long term. A quick add up of the chunks of the story I have written says I have roughly 53k words of unpublished story for WoL. On the one hand, a shame to go to waste, on the other hand, I'm not really sure how I'd feel emotionally about trying to dig it back. Like I said, I go back and forth. Just for bonus trivia, since I gave the unpublished word count for WoL, it's sequel, which had a pending title of War on Finality, has 25k words written, and about a 2k words worth of ideas that I wrote, but wasn't sold on including.

I super appreciate btw your note about "things I had forgotten about myself for awhile." That really resonated with me. WoL has is a bittersweet for me because while it was my attempt to push through the gross stuff happening during that time period that I hadn't processed yet, I'm still also really proud of the messages I was going to include, some of the plot points I'd come up with, plot parallels, the OC's character development and direction, and how incredibly different it was going to be from anything I'd written at that point. I think it'd probably have ended up being one of my most emotive fics, and definitely with the (initial) darkest ending.

That being said, the plot of WoL definitely is it's own whole ass post, so apologies for not being able to answer immediately, but I genuinely think I'd break the character limit of tumblr if I tried to go into it all here lmao. Also, since it comes up sometimes from other dm's I've gotten, I think the better idea for me to do is make a masterpost about WoL and where it was going, include some screenshot blurbs for context, etc. That might take a few days, but when that posts, I'll reblog this with the link to the masterpost.

[rightpastnowhere]

bayonetta 3 spoilers !!!!!!

okay before i go to bed i'm gonna make a quick post about my feelings because i'm tired of seeing all these shallow n one-sided arguments and stances in the fandom

spoilers for the plot and ending below the cut!!!!!

so i didn't like the ending. without going into the ship discourse (for now) like... i just didn't. it would have been a good ending in the context of any other series, i think, that WASN'T bayonetta. and i'm all for breaking the mold in a series, honest to god, but it just seemed so odd?? the bayonetta games have emotional moments, i won't say otherwise. the bit with jeanne rescuing bayonetta from the eye of jubileus in bayo 1??? that shit got me !!! and the games have themes of grief and accepting loss and all that whatnot.

but also, all of the games have triumphant endings full of action and chaos and punching gods into the sun!!! bayonetta is always shown as one of the strongest characters in the world, and seeing her broken down like this - over and over, with all of the variants, and then again in the end - it just felt disheartening. it kind of outweighed the bittersweet effect of it, and just made me depressed. it felt hopeless, and while that sort of ending works for a lot of series and i know that it's a wonderful tool of storytelling, it just... i don't know, came out of left field. but that's my personal opinion, not a writing critique!! i'm not saying that the ending was good or bad, should or should not have happened, so don't attack me for trying to make some absolute opinion, or say i think i know everything. i don't.

okay now onto the character drama.

i feel a need to preface this by saying that i LOVE luka as a character!! i love him so much!!! he's so silly and goofy and sweet, but genuinely smart!!! he's so caring to baby cereza in bayo 1, and he cares about bayo, and he's a sweetheart. i also have no problems with the bayo/luka ship. i have no issues with bayo being with a guy, i've headcanoned her as bi since the first game.

all that said: i don't like the way they handled it in this game. putting aside the fact that i'm a major bayojeanne shipper - and i am actively putting aside my bitterness, i acknowledge that it's there, but that's just me being a shipper and has no place in this analysis - i don't think it was handled well. to me, it just feels like it came out of nowhere. in the first game, they have some chemistry, sure, but it always kinda feels like just teasing. luka is obviously Down Horrendous for her, despite trying to hate her, and bayonetta kinda leads him along, but it seems to just stick around flirting/lust on both sides. they obviously care about each other - and i love that!! my heart clenched when luka was thrown out of the window, and bayo tried to reach for him - but it seemed to read more as platonic, to me. and in bayonetta 2, if my memory serves me, they don't interact as much? he doesn't seem to be as significant aside from expediting plot? again, it's been a couple years, so forgive me if i'm mistaken. it just seemed like their relationship fell to the wayside

because of that, it just feels so rushed. they go from friends who flirt with each other and may or may not be serious about that flirting to... multiversal soulmates???? what?????? (i don't fully understand that adam and eve stuff but. what.) and they try to hint at it through the game, but they're only on-screen together later in the game??? and the way they talk about each other feels like the beginning of something, instead of the culmination they were obviously going for. it just feels like they pulled this plot out of their asses without using any of the things that had been built up from previous games. i just... honestly it caught me off guard. i was surprised, and not in the normal plot twist way. instead of "oh wow i didn't see that coming!! but looking back i can see the setup!!!" it was "oh wow i didn't see that coming, also what game is this?" DON'T GET ME WRONG it's all cool concepts!!! i love cool star wolf luka's design, i love multiverse shenaniganery, and i love bittersweet endings - but it just feels so wildly different than the previous two games. i don't know.

to be honest, tho, bayonetta settling down with anyone within canon just feels weird. like i wasn’t going into this expecting a bayojeanne confession either. these games have always sort of felt... i don’t know, disconnected? from romance plots? very much “bayonetta doesn’t need a romance, she’s strong and independent, she has her friends and her guns” type vibes. like good for her!!! it just seems very, again, out of left field

and, now's my time to be just a bit petty - jeanne got seriously sidelined in this game. i love her little spy mission, it's so cute and silly and shows how nerdy she can be, but after that, she's just... there. she has some cute scenes with bayo with some banter, and they fight together, but then she gets... killed for a plot twist?? alone??? her last word is "cereza" and we hardly see bayonetta mourning her???? she comes back for a second to help fight and then they barely get to speak together before she's gone again??????? i just. she's one of the strongest witches out there, and got stabbed in the back in a cutscene???? and then she's basically forgotten. whether you ship bayojeanne or not, you have to admit that they're incredibly important to each other. they're the last of their clan, they continuously risk their lives for each other, and they even live together for fuck's sake!! bayo's closest and oldest friend got sidelined with a glossed-over plot-twist death. it feels like such a disservice. and i'm not gonna lie, i was a little upset with how in bayo 2 she hardly gets any screentime after being saved, but also she'd just gotten back from hell, she needed to rest. and she even comes back for the boss fight!!! home girl gets on a jet!!!!! and then we get her in a cut scene at the end!!!!!!! it just feels so unfair to her.

ALSO. ME NOT WANTING BAYO TO END UP WITH LUKA IS NOT BIPHOBIA. I REPEAT. IT'S NOT BIPHOBIA. I AM OKAY WITH BAYONETTA BEING WITH A MAN. I JUST WISH THE WRITING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER!!!!!!

anyway that was NOT short thoughts and i need to go to sleep

edit 11/4: someone pointed out that the arch eve and adam thing wasn’t just bayo and luka, thank you for telling me (i was very confused), but still… what was that?? also??? this whole thing is weird

[porcubus]

Long post where i look at some stuff that raises me eyebrow

i dont think rodya consistently hesitating to speak around sonya is a sign of comfort (seen when she was at the gambling table the constance silence from her and then her herself describing it as uncomfortable)

you could interpret the small chats they have as friendly definitely but i dont think her clamming up is just her true personality coming out i think she was clamming up. on top of that he is consistently brushing off any question or concern she might have with him in order to paint their previous life (and his current one) as the ideal

she recalls hearing of a child die under sonyas care (which he again avoids a direct response to Which again pisses her off very clearly)

again during this scene he speaks to her about her need to feel special and her being exactly the same as the broker, and once she's at that low point thats when he chooses to drop the perfect world speech

sonya isnt stupid. i feel like the acting like nothing ever happened is a very intentionally placed line, he knows about rodyas guilt, and he knows how tempting the idea of a world where none of this had happened would be

then theres the big scene where she sees the vision, wants to etch it into her memory. rodya can describe this ideal world as feeling warm and perfect but if we actually look at how sonyas been talking we can understand that this is just more of it. talk. it moves rodya, because it is what she wants. of course she'd rather live in a warmer, happier world with someone she used to call a friend. but its very much not real. and its not something he can give her. rodya knows this

later when rodya recognises sonya knew what she'd do all along she brings it up and is immediately brushed off. sonya instead starts talking about how hes special and what makes it so

"this will probably elude you" is one of his more clear moments of condescension towards her. what hes been saying this whole time really as kind or as flowery as it might sound, its that is she isnt special. she just wants to be. she doesnt have what it takes. shes doing everything for the wrong selfish reason. but maybe she could be something if she tagged along with a real "chosen one". someone who has the special mark, who travelled the world, who reads books. i think she recognises whats going on here and thats the reason she cuts him off

let me be clear i dont think their relationship is black and white. clearly she holds an amount of care and nostalgia for him and their relationship. its a complicated thing to run into someone you considered a friend as a child. i think that inherently adds to the awkward air about them. and the way sonya talks you could easily say he does hold actual love for her but the language and tactics he uses feel very calculated. their relationship is very bittersweet, im solely focusing on the negatives for this post because its things i have not seen pointed out yet :thumbsup:

love this line at the end because it feels so so loaded after sonyas speech about the mark and reading rodya's desire to be special. Goddamn

also something i havent seen mentioned is him showing rodya an idealized world was a tactic specifically suggested by hermann to win her over. the one thing we know about sonya is that hes good with his words, its basically his job. and knowing there was some sort of planning and intention behind their meeting makes it interesting to read back on

does anyone want to discuss rodya and sonyas relationship and not through rose tinted glasses and not by reading sonya as a based communist king

[quaranmine]

New World, New Faces

When the hermits moved to their new world, they were excited to welcome two new members. But maybe one is an old friend instead . . .

Grian hasn't seen Pearl since Evo. It's a shock.

No romantic relationships or content warnings. Mainly emotional hurt/comfort, but probably more emphasis on comfort. Hermits: Grian, Pearl, and Mumbo primarily with a little bit of Scar and Xisuma as well. Reblogs appreciated and AO3 link in reblog!

Words: 3893

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

These days, Grian was pleased to say that the Watcher’s didn’t occupy his mind nearly as often as they used to. Except on certain late nights where he lay in bed and thought of before, his time was mostly spent having fun--scheming, pranking, building, planning, mining, laughing with friends. It wasn’t something he could forget, but the hermits had become his new home, and as years passed the edges of those memories had dulled a bit.

The other times where the Watchers occupied his mind were update days. Since joining hermitcraft, Grian had gone through several updates with the rest of the server. Sometimes they moved to a new world, and sometimes they stayed in their old one. No portals of bedrock ever appeared, but Grian always thought of them just the same. It always felt like maybe, just maybe, one day he’d turn around and see their signature portals once again.

Watchers didn’t always leave portals to update worlds. Grian hadn’t known that until he’d been put to work as a Watcher himself. Oh, the Watchers were still in charge of updating worlds, but they often did it more subtly, without grand towers and quests for portals. It’s hard to retain status as a myth when everyone knows your calling card, afterall. Admins always knew when it was time to update. Grian hadn't, back on Evo, because he’s always been told.

It turned out Evo had been different, and Grian didn’t know how to feel about that. Evo wasn’t the only world to receive special attention from the Watchers, but it was one of their favorites. Why them, though? Why did the Watchers keep such a close eye on their world in particular? Why were they left towers and clues and prizes and punishments, when other servers were mostly left alone?

Why did they kill everyone and kidnap Grian?

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Grian stood in a group with the other hermits, eagerly waiting for the move to the new world. He bounced a little in anticipation. He was excited for the new update--he knew very little about its contents, but it seemed like there would be some new building blocks to play with, according to Xisuma.

He already had plans for the new world--new bases and new shenanigans. Grian was excited to build close to his friends. Xisuma had informed them that another update would come in a few months, and for the hermits to stick close in the time being so that new land would be freed up for the coming update. Grian had already known about the second update for a while, as all Watchers do, but he let Xisuma handle all of this as admin. Those days were behind him, now, and there was no reason to start exercising Watcher powers in a world that was carrying on just fine on its own.

“Is everyone ready?” Xisuma shouted over the chatter, trying to do a headcount. “Hey!” he shouted, trying to get everyone’s attention. Slowly, the chatter quieted.

“Looks like it,” said Iskall.

“Good,” Xisuma said. “Now, before we go, I wanted to remind you that we have two new people joining us this time. I’ve already made arrangements with them prior so they’re gonna be waitin’ for us when we go through.” He grinned. “Be on your best behavior for me, alright?”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Keralis replied, and Xisuma rolled his eyes fondly.

Grian smiled, remembering his welcome to hermitcraft a few years ago. Unlike this time, nobody had been expecting him. Grian hadn’t been invited like these two new hermits had been, he had just been there when the hermits arrived on their new world. None of the other hermits knew quite why he was there, but they’d all accepted him graciously nonetheless.

Grian liked that memory. The truth is, he’d fled the Watchers and picked an uninhabited world at random, not realizing it had already been reserved by Xisuma. That was a failure on his part as a Watcher, because he was supposed to know about stuff like that. But he had been too busy running to worry about it and besides, there was nobody on hermitcraft to punish him.

The hermits had welcomed him with kindness and made him part of their family. Now he’d gladly do the same for these new soon-to-be hermits.

“Okay . . .” Xisuma said, typing something into his admin panel. “I’m just setting up the portal now.”

They were all gathered in the shopping district, right in front of the Town Hall. Grian took his chance to take one last glance around at the world. The diamonds in the trees glittered in the morning light, sending little reflective shards of light scattered on the ground. Moving worlds was always bittersweet, because it meant parting with the things he’d worked hard on and the places he’d made memories at. But it was also one of his favorite things to do, because it gave everyone a blank slate to work with, sparking endless new creativity.

“I wish I could take some of those with me,” chuckled Scar, as he walked up next to where Grian was standing. He pointed at the diamonds.

“Well of course you want them, Mr Mayor!”

“Uh-uh,” Scar said. “I’m not the Mayor anymore! This is a new world.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what we get up to in the next one, huh?” Grian asked. “Do you have any plans?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Scar teased.

“I guess I will.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I don’t know,” said Grian. He thought for a moment. “I might make a cave base. I guess I’m waiting to see what’s out there for inspiration before I start.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing it,” Scar replied. “Oh! It looks like Xisuma is ready.”

Grian looked up, to see X opening a portal. It wasn’t a nether portal, nor was it like an End portal. It wasn’t a Watcher portal either, but an Admin one. Grian had come to realize that Watchers supplied Admins with the means to move into updates on their own when they wanted to. The bedrock portals and scavenger hunts were reserved for their favorite worlds--their toys.

Sometimes the Watchers liked to flex their powers, but the universe is not kept running smoothly if all your time is spent flexing. Grian brushed away the thought, choosing to focus on his friends in front of him instead.

One by one, the hermits stepped through the portal, which swirled light blue and hovered just slightly off the ground. Grian hung back, wanting to be one of the last ones through. He wanted to make sure everyone made it through alright, but Xisuma had to be the very last person, since he needed to close the portal. When it was finally his turn, he gave Xisuma a smile and walked forward.

Grian stepped through, into the bright sunlight of a village, and was surrounded by the voices of his friends.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

Spawn was a village in a grassland, next to a swamp and overlooking the ocean. It looked a little plain, but the hermits hadn’t left their mark on the world yet. Behind Grian, Xisuma stepped out into the new world and the portal vanished behind him.

Everybody was crowded around a ditch chattering, apparently exchanging greetings with the two new hermits that stood inside it. Grian held back for a moment, taking it in and basking in the sounds of his friends’ voices. Finally, he wasn’t the new one anymore--a few people had rejoined the server in the last world, but they’d all been old friends, not new ones. That had left him being the most recent addition, not that anything felt like it was recent anymore.

Grian was already thinking of ways to prank the new hermits and draw them into the life of the server.

“Alright Mumbo!” Xisuma said. Grian grinned. Mumbo was supposed to introduce them. Mumbo, of course, didn’t know this, because where’s the fun in that?

“Oh-oh me?”

“It’s go time!” Cleo said.

“This is it!” said Xisuma.

“I’ve clearly very obviously been put up to this,” Mumbo started. “And because everyone thought it’d be much funnier to have me bumble through it without really knowing what I’m talking about, and that is definitely going to be the case!”

The hermits chuckled. Grian walked around the back of the group to try to catch a glimpse of the new people below.

“We do have two new hermits,” Mumbo said, “down in this crevice.”

Grian caught a glimpse of red and brown hair.

“GeminiTay-”

Grian’s world stopped and he felt his breath catch in his throat. She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Her brown hair spilled out from behind a black hoodie.

But she’s dead.

Was this some sort of cruel trick from the universe?

“-and PearlescentMoon.” The rest of the hermits cheered at the announcement, giving the new members a warm welcome. Grian said nothing, his mind spinning a mile a minute.

There was no way it was actually her. The Watchers . . . the Watchers had killed her, and every other Evolutionist. Grian didn’t know why. He would never know why, because with the Watchers it was always “you can’t possibly understand.”And Grian couldn’t. When Grian had finally escaped them, he tried to go back to Evo. It was a foolish attempt, one that would certainly have endangered the lives of anyone there, but nobody had been left there and the buildings were all destroyed and overgrown with vines and Grian had been forced to conclude the heavy truth that all of his old friends were gone.

He didn’t remember what he did after that. He just ran.

Before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “Pearl? Is that really you?”

She turned, hearing her name and--it was. It was her. Her hair had blonde highlights around the bangs now, but he’d recognize her anywhere, like her face and the faces of all the other Evolutionists were seared into his brain.

“. . . Grian?”

Grian just stared.

The other hermits had caught onto their mini debacle, and were watching them. “Grian, do you know her?” Mumbo asked.

“Y-yeah, I do,” he stammered.

“Grian?” Pearl shouted, and in an instant had scrambled up the ditch. She stopped in front of him, face pale and eyes wide, like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe he was a ghost, maybe he’d died the day they took him from Evo.

“Pearl,” he whispered.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Grian in a hug and squeezed. “Oh, it’s been so long,” she said, voice muffled.

Grian froze, but slowly reciprocated the hug. He felt numb and like he wanted to cry and scream at the same time, hands shaking, but Pearl’s warm embrace drew him back down to reality.

Pearl pulled away, blinked tears from her eyes and met Grian’s stare. Then, her gaze drifted further down, landing on his folded wings that peaked out just above his shoulders. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke a feather. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I thought you were dead,” Grian said by way of answer.

“Well, I’m not,” Pearl said, and for a moment Grian almost didn’t believe her, and grabbed her wrist tightly, just to see if it was real. Pearl let him. “They took you,” she said.

Grian just looked at the ground, uncomfortably aware of how many people were watching him. Ironic, almost--he didn’t want them watching him so that they wouldn’t know about the Watchers. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the hermits. He did. He’d trust them all with his life a thousand times. He just . . . didn’t want to explain. The hermits were a good bunch. The unspoken rule was that you didn’t ask about anyone’s past unless they spoke first, and Grian knew they’d abide by that for him as well. But he could do without the turned heads.

“Alright everyone!” Xisuma shouted suddenly, startling Grian. “Let’s go, let’s get to work, this season won’t start itself!” Slowly, the hermits began to disperse, branching off into groups. “How’re ya gonna start the season if you don't chop down a tree? I’ll get to work protecting these villagers.”

Xisuma threw a glance over to them, and Grian mouthed a thank you. Xisuma just nodded, and left them alone. Grian was overwhelmed with relief at the admin’s gesture.

He turned back to Pearl.

“I-I can’t believe you’re actually here,”Grian said. He smiled and the moment he met her gaze, his eyes began to blur with tears.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” she cried. “When we got back from fighting the enderdragon you . . . you were just gone. They left a note for us . . . said it was necessary for you to be taken. All in rhyme, of course.”

“Of course it was in rhyme . . .'' Grian muttered, suddenly very angry. All the Watchers and their unknowable ways, always distilled down to some pithy saying. A life-changing event relayed to his friends in another stupid little poem. He’d written a few himself and despised it.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again. Do you . . . do you mind if I ask what happened?” Pearl asked. “I’m just happy to see you here but I-”

“No, it’s alright,” Grian said with a sigh. “They took me after I fought the enderdragon, and said I was going to be one of them. I didn’t want to go but-well what could I do? So I went with them, and they promised to let me hang around the server. They lied to me, they never let me Watch Evo.” Grian paused, and felt the cool trail of a tear dripping down his cheek. “They later told me you were all dead.”

“Oh, Grian,” Pearl said, and pulled him into another hug, and that was it for him. He began to sob.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “It’s just a lot-”

“I know, I know,” she whispered.

“They-they . . . I didn’t enjoy it there. So I, I ran away. I tried to visit Evo but--there was nobody there. I figured they told the truth then, that you really were dead. I ran and found the hermits and I’ve been living with them every since, and oh they’re so wonderful but I could never forget-”

“It’s okay.” Pearl comforted. “I know, I know. We came home after finding the dragon and our place was ransacked, and we were given instructions to leave. And . . . eventually after we left, the group disbanded and we went our separate ways. But, we’re all alive.”

“Really?” Grian asked.

“Yes.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Can I- can I see them?” he whispered. It felt forbidden.

“Of course!” Pearl exclaimed. “I’ve kept in touch with everyone, I’m sure Xisuma could help you visit if you asked.”

“Xisuma . . .” Grian thought aloud. “I haven’t told him,” Grian admitted. The admin certainly knew something was up with Grian, because players didn’t normally randomly appear in worlds they weren’t supposed to, but he’d welcomed Grian with open arms to the server and never asked a single question.

“I’m sure he would understand.”

“He would, but Pearl, I don’t want to put anyone in danger! I’m not supposed to be here!” Grian hissed.

“So then don’t tell him everything. Just say you want to visit some people. He’ll understand, I know he will,” she replied. Grian pondered it for a moment. She was right--he could just ask to visit someone. Other hermits did it all the time. Maybe--maybe a few server hops wouldn’t cause a problem. Maybe this was something within his reach, after all this time. The thought exhilarated him.

“But please,” Pearl added. “Please tell someone else, not just me. How long have you been hiding?”

Too long.

Grian didn’t answer, and the two of them stood there and listened to the crash of the waves on the nearby shoreline. The air was hot and salty, and in the distance he could hear Xisuma opening and closing doors in the village.

He didn’t know what he felt, it was like too many emotions had happened in too short of a period of time and left him burned out like a forest after a wildfire. His hands had stopped trembling, but he felt deeply tired.

Happy. You feel happy.

Grian’s communicator chimed from within his pocket. He withdrew it.

GoodTimeWithScar > Grian: are you okay

Grian smiled, and typed a response.

Grian > GoodTimeWithScar: yes

“Who was that?” Pearl asked.

“Scar. He wanted to know if I was okay.”

“Are you?”

Grian met her eyes. “I am now.” It was close enough to the truth. Grian shifted his weight between his feet, suddenly restless and tired from trying to process all this new information. “Speaking of other hermits, we should get going, yeah? We can’t let them get all the resources without us!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she chuckled. The hermits had already spread out seeking resources, but not too far yet; Grian and Pearl could still see several of them talking to each other across the field.

“Pearl, before you go--” Grian started, looking serious. “Build next to me, alright? I...I want you to be around.”

“I promise,” she replied.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

“Why are you following me?” Grian knew why, but he wanted Mumbo to bring it up. He was torn--on one hand, he truly appreciated his friend’s concern. It was nice that others were looking out for him, a warm reminder of what their little community stood for. On the other hand . . . he’d really have just appreciated being left alone.

“You look like you have a purpose!” Mumbo exclaimed instead.

Huh.

Grian shook his head. “I’m just heading north,” he replied, shielding his eyes and looking up to see the position of the sun.

“I was just like, ‘Man, it looks like he knows where he’s going,’” Mumbo continued and Grian laughed.

They walked to the edge of the swamp, and began to cut down the trees. Starter tools were a necessity in a new world, and they had no stone.

“Ugh, I have to take down this whole tree, and then I have to replant it,” complained Mumbo.

“Wait-why have you got to replant it?” asked Grian incredulously, while getting wood for himself and not replanting the tree.

“Well I-I can’t just deforest things!”

This is going to be SO much fun to tease Mumbo with.

“Whatever you say, tree boy.”

They continued to work, getting wood, and then venturing into a shallow cave to get stone. The whole time their coms kept buzzing, buzzing, buzzing with combat death messages. Just another day in the hermitcraft world, thought Grian. Have they declared a spontaneous war up there? Either way, Pearl and Gem were getting the full introduction today, he thought with a chuckle.

Exiting the cave, they spotted a shipwreck not too far away, and decided to explore it. Grian pulled out a soggy buried treasure map, and they decided to go after it in a boat. Grian wanted to relax in the boat, to just breathe in the sea spray and try to calm his still-racing thoughts, but unfortunately Mumbo was the driver, and he was not a very good driver if you asked Grian. Grian had been tasked with navigation, which was a difficult thing when the driver couldn’t see the map you were describing.

The loot was good, and they divided it between themselves and then struck onward in the boat, this time with Grian commandeering the vessel. They looped back around to the shipwreck only to find a group of hermits that were a little too late to the prize. Pearl, Ren, and Doc were gathered around the boat looking a bit disappointed.

Mumbo and Grian decided to taunt them.

“Who got the loot?” shouted Ren.

“We got the loot!” Grian shouted back.

“Oh it was you guys,” said Pearl. Grian stuck his tongue out at her and cackled.

They looped back around to show off the Heart of the Sea, but Mumbo dropped their only diamond by accident and that was when Grian decided to steer the boat away before they lost any more valuables.

“I can’t believe you dropped the diamond,” Grian sighed.

“I was flexing too hard, I’m sorry!” cried Mumbo.

It was too comical, and Grian couldn’t be mad at his friend. They rowed on, closely following the coastline. After a few minutes, however, Mumbo asked a question.

“The new hermit, who we just saw with Doc and Ren--Pearl--is it. . . is it okay if I ask how you know her?” Mumbo spoke gently, knowing he was treading around a potentially sensitive topic. Grian knew the topic would have come up eventually, after he’d basically had a breakdown in public when he saw her.

Grian stopped the boat, and looked into the water, not at Mumbo’s face. “Yeah, I figured you’d ask. We used to be on a world together. The . . . the world I was at before I came here, actually.” It wasn’t the full truth, since he’d been to many worlds as a Watcher and had lived on the Watchers’ world for a while. But Evo had been his last home.

“Oh,” said Mumbo.

“We were friends,” continued Grian. “We were close. But I was told she was dead. Clearly, though,” he just simply gestured instead of finishing the sentence.

“Clearly she’s not dead,” Mumbo finished. “I see. Who told you she was dead?”

“Someone who didn’t have my best interests at heart.” Grian had never fully told his friend about what had happened before he joined hermitcraft, but the other man knew that it was a difficult past and had comforted him on more than one occasion--mostly after he’d first joined and the pain was still fresh. It had dulled with time and Grian had become more and more adjusted to his new life.

Seeing Pearl again was a miracle, but it sure sharpened the pain.

Grian rested his elbows on the side of the boat and pressed the heels of his palm into his eyes. “It wasn’t just her, either, they told me everyone on the server was dead. And-they’re all alive. All of them. It’s fantastic news, brilliant news, I’m just-”

“Thinking of the people who didn’t have your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo laid a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “I don’t know who they are,” he began, “but I know they’re not here now. You have us now, and you have Pearl here too. That all is in the past.”

Grian stared out over the water, watching as the sunlight sparkled and danced over the waves. “You’re a good friend, you know that right?”

“Well, I do try to be,” Mumbo chuckled. “Now-I think we should probably go pick up Scar over there, I think the poor man is going to drown!”

“Oh no!” Grian said, and scrambled for the oars, and then they were off.

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐

When Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Mumbo created the Boatem Pole, Pearl was there to join them.

When Grian woke up in his makeshift camp the next morning, he was happy to see Pearl setting up her own starter base on the other side of the Boatem Pole.

When Grian showed up at Xisuma’s base two days later, he asked for permission to visit other servers.

[purrvaire]

so. this is going to be a personal post, free to skip etc

cw // grieving

today it's my granny's bday. she passed away in July - she would be 93 today - after being sick for quite sometime. and i guess im feeling it particularly bc life has been absurd and i didnt have much time for processing when it happened - i had to help mum sort out stuff before and after the funeral, uni exams of course didn't stop for me. like, i realized i have troubles dealing with it bc i gathered the courage to watch the last video mum took of her - the day before she passed - only yesterday and it hurt so bad. anyway, i don't want to wallow in painful memories so ill tell you some of the happy ones <3

me and my grandma were very close; she lived with me while i was growing up and we used to share a room; she had her quirks, mind you, my sister and her would fight a lot and, as always, i was left to placate both of them lol but the thing is, she was always ready to listen. when i came back from school, i would tell her all about my day and my friends. in the last months i needed to repeat her stuff bc her memory failed her a bit. and she helped me as far as she could with school or, when she wasn't able bc she finished school at 15, she would listen. And she was so interested in what I was learning! Istg I prepared a whole ass exam about linguistics and she wanted to hear all about it! When I had exams, she would comfort me the day before and she was the first person I would call after bc I knew she would be waiting anxiously for me to call. Actually, I had an exam at the end of July and I got the top mark (30 e lode, which I guess is A+? Idk) and I had to stop myself from calling her number, it was so automatic the routine we had.

When she could still read easily, we used to read books together; we read the Secret Garden and Wuthering Heights and Pride and Prejudice and Anne of Green Gables - the last one was the topic of my undergraduate dissertation which I dedicated to her.

AND my old lady was such a great football fan! NO BUT SERIOUSLY she wouldn't miss a match, we supported the same team of course and she would get fond of players too LMAO the night she was hospitalised, I remember she didn't want to leave home because - and I quote - she was busy watching the Champions League. I get it from her. In fact, this year, chances are that my team could win the league after 30+ years and it's bittersweet, you know? Knowing that she isn't there to enjoy it.

Anyway, I'm typing this while I'm waiting at the hairdresser - she liked my hair long and was sad when I cut it but anyway she believed it suited me - and tomorrow I'm taking a plane to Belgium to visit a friend; I'm telling you bc I can't tell her. She was very religious - as all old southern italian ladies are - while I'm not so much anymore, but just for today I'll believe she is watching me from up there. 🤍

[random-thought-depository]

Idea for a story I should write someday: a story kind of like the Babylon 5 episode Believers, but it’s obliquely referencing the continuity of consciousness arguments about uploading and teleportation.

The story’s equivalent of Shon is an alien from an intelligent species for whom unconsciousness is naturally super-rare; they don’t sleep, and they have a highly redundant nervous system that makes them very resistant to being “knocked out” by blunt force trauma or drugs. As a result, this species has developed philosophical arguments that a continuous stream of consciousness is constitutive of identity, and hence to lose consciousness is to die, and if somebody loses consciousness and then wakes up later that person has died and a new person who happens to have their memories has awakened in their body. This perspective is intuitive to them, in the same way “if somebody creates a perfect copy of you and then immediately kills the original you, you have died” is intuitive to us, and it’s the view of multiple mainstream religions and philosophies on their world. Their equivalents of the words awake and alive are more-or-less synonyms, their word for being born roughly translates as “awaken,” and their word for death roughly translates as “the cessation of movement and thought” (maybe they classify sessile organisms like plants and fungi as not alive, in the same way we classify viruses as not alive?).

Obviously, one consequence of this is that most surgeries in their society are done with local anesthetic, with the patient being carefully kept awake (”alive”) the whole time. But in this case a child of this species has an illness or injury that will definitely kill them (in the uncontroversial sense of the concept) if it isn’t remedied with an operation that definitely will result in a period of unconsciousness. And the story centers on a human doctor trying to convince the child and their parents that what they’re proposing will save the child’s life instead of just killing them and replacing them with a different person.

The take a third option happy ending would be that the doctor manages to find a way to do the operation while keeping the child conscious the whole time, but I think I prefer something a bit more bittersweet. So I’m thinking maybe they try something like that, and it works in the sense that the child physically survives and is fine, but it fails in that the child loses consciousness for a few minutes during the operation so the parents see them as having died.

Oh, they don’t filicide their own child like in the B5 episode or anything like that. They don’t think they’re an abomination or anything like that. They just think their child has died and been replaced with something like an identical twin. While unconsciousness is very rare among them, there have been cases throughout their history, and their culture has developed procedures for it. When a person dies and a new person awakens in their body, the new person is given a name (different from that of the original inhabitant of their body) and their equivalent of a baptism. The family of body’s previous inhabitant may adopt them. If they’re married, the spouse of their body’s previous inhabitant may marry them. They may adopt the children of their body’s previous inhabitant. They inherent the personal property of their body’s previous inhabitant, but they are not responsible for any debts and crimes of the previous inhabitant of their body, which are considered to belong to the dead person. The “dead” inhabitant of their body is given a funeral, with a small effigy of wood or wax buried or burned as a corpse would be. The “dead” inhabitant of their body is then given the same daily prayers for the dead as other dead immediate family members.

So, before the operation the child prepares for the possibility that they might lose consciousness by writing a letter to the inheritor of their body saying something like “Please don’t feel bad about inheriting my body, you didn’t ask for this, it isn’t your fault.” After the operation the child is given a new name and their equivalent of a new baptism and adopted into the family, as a foundling would be, and is introduced to their sibling as a new member of the family who happens to look like the dead sibling. The child inherits the personal property of the “dead” child, in this case a few toys and video games and the like. The parents arrange for their “new” child’s education to continue where the “dead” child’s left off, as they share the same memories (when they go back to their school - which is a small “neighborhood” school run by and for the community of their species on the space station the story takes place on - they are introduced to their classmates as a new student). The “new” child participates in the funeral of the “dead” child and before every evening meal participates in the daily prayers for the dead, in which the “dead” child is mentioned by name as other dead immediate family members are. The “new” child will celebrate their birthday on the anniversary of the operation, and the day of the operation will be counted as the day of their birth (“awakening”). Basically, the parents are as nice about the whole thing as they can be, but they really believe that they’ve lost a child and gained a new one (through no fault of the new child!), and they and the rest of their immediate community act accordingly.

Some time later the human doctors gets invited to participate in some sort of ceremony for the “new” child, formal acknowledgment of them having finished memorizing some sacred scripture in their school or something like that. They give the human doctor the role in the ceremony that the midwife who assisted in the child’s birth would normally have.

---------------

Some peripheral notes for this concept:

In the setting of this story, humans are a relatively minor race; Earth is an unusually densely populated world, but on the periphery of known space and relatively backward, humans only developed a high-tech civilization recently and haven’t spread out much and are a small percentage of known space’s population. The human doctor is one of the few humans on a trade hub space station, or at least one of the few humans who’s part of the official staff; most of the humans there are part of the station’s working/lower class, a mix of low-level maintenance and dock workers, small-time shopkeepers, entertainers and service workers of various sorts, homeless people, and petty criminals (with a fair amount of fluidity between those classes).

Sleep is a weird thing humans do in this setting; it’s unique to humans (and other Earth animals), other intelligent species don’t need it or do it. However, most intelligent species don’t have the “unconsciousness = death” belief, because while most intelligent species don’t sleep they are more familiar with unconsciousness as a semi-normal thing from people passing out drunk, getting knocked out in a brawl, etc.. Maybe there’s even one or two intelligent species who don’t sleep regularly but can hibernate in periods of resource scarcity like bears or go into torpor if the temperature gets too low (common alien words for human sleep might translate to things like “micro-hibernation” and “false thermocoma”). It’s just this one species for whom unconsciousness is naturally super-rare so their culture developed in a context where it was some extraordinary, freakish, even eldritch-seeming thing.

In this context, the human doctor experiences some of the limitations of humans as something a lot like a disability. She can’t regularly work the 20+ hour shifts that are normal for her colleagues, because she needs to sleep. She needs more time off than most of her colleagues, because normal alien schedules are made around the assumption of effectively having an extra eight hours every day to get stuff done. Because the aliens are active 24 hours, most intelligent species have much better night vision than humans, so to save on energy and burned out light bulb equivalents the common area and default lighting on the space station is what a human experiences as semi-darkness. She wears basically night vision goggles most of the time to be able to easily work in what the aliens consider normal indoor lighting conditions. A lot of the alien tools and furniture are the wrong size and shape for her, and she gets a friend in the station’s machine shop to recut and otherwise modify a lot of the medical tools for her. Humans are relatively unusual in the wider galaxy and kind of funny looking even by the standards of a relatively cosmopolitan multi-species society (the more typical body plans for an intelligent species are “six-limbed quadruped with four legs and two arms” and “kind of like a theropod dinosaur”), so common alien furniture is really not built for her (the human sitting posture is super-weird and freaky by alien standards, they tend to get uncomfortable just looking at it), and she gets kind of a lot of people (especially children) staring at her and wanting to touch various parts of her and so on, but it’s mostly benign curiosity. She’s uncomfortably aware that she’s a “diversity hire” (the alien polity that runs the station likes to hire members of their various allied and subject races to give them a sense of inclusion) and that a lot of people kind of resent having to do all these accommodations for her instead of just hiring a normal person.

The family of the sick child actually have a kind of parallel experience. Their world is even more marginal and peripheral than Earth and they’re a small minority in the galactic population, and the space station was built by and primarily for beings smaller than them so they have to deal with a lot of uncomfortably small tools and furniture and spaces or stick to special areas and facilities for bigger beings. This is a universe where big alien theory is true, so they’re actually more-or-less average size for an intelligent species, but the most numerous races are around human size so around human size is what gets treated as normal size for a person to be. Note: around human size with quadrupedal or theropod-like body plans translates to the human doctor has to stoop to fit inside a lot of small corridors built for beings substantially shorter than humans, but thankfully the station is designed for a cosmopolitan crowd so at least the bigger public spaces are sized to be accessible to beings up to approximately the size of large sauropod dinosaurs (and the water-filled sections for water/ocean-dwellers are designed to be accessible to even bigger beings).

---------------

Rough draft/outline for some lines in a conversation that would happen in this story:

Human doctor: I sleep every day. Well, almost every day, anyway. <Laughs a little, then turns serious> Do you think I die every time I go to sleep? Do you think the version of me you talked to yesterday is dead, and I’m... What, the latest in a line of thousands of doppelganger-clones of [her name]?

Alien parent: I... <uncomfortable pause> My partner holds it as a matter of faith that is works differently for Humans, because the Makers would not be so cruel as to create a race that is born in the morning, lives one day, dies that night, passes their body on to a new person who continues their errands and then dies in turn the next night. But I’m a rationalist, and... <uncomfortable pause and squirming> ... If you really look at nature, you see a multitude of horrors. The buzzer-fly’s young tear it apart from inside and eat its corpse. Nature is amoral. I can believe nature would create such a thing as an intelligent race that lives one day. I... Honestly, I try to not think about it much, to preserve my sanity.

Human doctor: I slept last night. I don’t feel like I died. I feel like I’m the same person I was yesterday.

Alien parent: Suppose this question had an objective and testable answer, and it was that I was right. Suppose I could show you I was right, as I could show my ancestors the Red Thirst with a microscope and say “See, it is not a curse, it is a thing like a tiny plant, that gets inside you and grows inside you like a strangling vine.” What would you do? How would you react to knowing that you have hours to live, that you were born this morning and will die tonight and are but one in a long chain of inhabitants of your body who lived only one day, and your whole race is like that?”

Human doctor: <thinks about it for a moment> “I think I’d find some way to tell myself that it wasn’t true, that you were wrong, and then I wouldn’t think about it much, to preserve my sanity.”

Alien parent: “For what it’s worth, I really hope it doesn’t actually work like that. But I’m not willing to gamble my child’s life on ‘I really hope it doesn’t actually work like that.’”

-----------------

On that note: at some point the parents see the human doctor while she’s dozing at work and it’s intensely disturbing and creepy to them. An unconscious person is disturbing to them in the same way fantasy undead would be disturbing to humans: they’re simultaneously dead and alive in a way that seems unnatural in the sense people use when they use that term to refer to something horrible. I think I might have some fun describing human sleep in a way that channels a Lovecraft protagonist: “Alive, yet not alive. Clearly dead, but stirred by inward motion.”

It’s more logical when you remember that their language uses a lot of the same or similar words for life and consciousness and for death and unconsciousness. Like, yes, she is indeed [alive/awake] but not [alive/awake], clearly [unawake] but moving a little, those are totally factual observations, I’m just translating the emotional charge they’d have for these people.

One of these poor people would probably have a breakdown when they see their own child in that state on the operating table. :(

On a lighter note, there’d be comic relief potential in this too:

Alien child: “Are they dead?”

Alien parent: “Kind of, but it’s not as big a problem for them as it is for us.”

And also tragicomedy potential: at one point the alien child asks the human doctor what death is like, saying she should know since she dies every day.

Tangential note: I’m thinking the alien child’s race is hermaphroditic, in which case it’d be appropriate to use gender-neutral pronouns for them ... and they probably wouldn’t have a concept of gender (except insofar as they might have learned that some other species have such concepts), so it would make sense for them to use gender-neutral language when they talk about humans among themselves too; their language wouldn’t have gendered pronouns except maybe specifically as a device adopted for being polite to certain aliens when you talk to them. Not sure how I’d handle pronouns for hermaphroditic aliens in a story.

-----------------

Other character concepts for this story:

When it comes to having to deal with a station built by and for beings that have rather different bodies than you, the human doctor is lucky compared to her colleague and best friend, a giant whale-like being who does most of their work through teleoperation while sitting in basically a giant swimming pool.

This person’s homeworld is a cold planet almost entirely covered by ocean; only a few almost totally barren tiny islands rise above an otherwise uninterrupted sea so deep it drowns all but the very highest mountain peaks (with so little land, multicellular life on this world has never left the sea). Their species (which is hermaphroditic, hence the choice of pronoun) is very much like the filter-feeding whales of Earth. Evolution of their intelligence probably was driven more by social selection than intrinsic stimulation of their watery world; they live their life by The Game, a complex and ever-shifting web of relationships that determines social status, access to resources, and mating opportunities, and that contributes to their survival. They are highly intelligent (their brain probably weighs more than you do!), and they might have tentacles or a manipulatory tongue or something, but before known space society found them and offered them access to space travel their watery world offered them little opportunity to develop technology. It’s unknown how long they’ve been sapient, but their oral history includes accounts of an asteroid impact that happened several million years ago.

This character thinks most of their people are good-natured but provincial. They’re good folks, but once you’ve gotten through the latest permutations of The Game and last year’s migrations and the plan for next year’s migrations and what the krill tastes like in various places these days the conversation tends to just kind of drift there like a sea-plant. They remember the 74th year of their life; the most interesting thing that happened that year was their pod passed close to an island. Why, on Earth, that was the year humans sent their first crewed expedition to Mars! They left their world to find a more interesting life.

They can use their powerful sonar to “see” inside their patients and still swear by this vs. the more advanced high-tech instruments.

--

The case of the sick child ends up involving a lawyer. He’s a member of another minor species of known space society, an arboreal intelligent species that originally inhabited the forests of a humid world. The evolution of intelligence in his species was driven mostly by social and sexual selection, like the whale people but moreso. His species is highly intelligent, but mostly uninterested in physical problems; in their original society most of their intelligence was focused on socialization, mating strategies, and art (the art was part of the socialization and mating strategies). When wider known space society found them, they were living as hunter-gatherers with a rich artistic tradition but a Stone Age level of technology. Examination of their world’s fossil record indicated that they had existed at that level for over a hundred million years. However, once integrated into a high-tech interstellar society, they became very successful as artists, lawyers, politicians, and business people, and can be found in those professions in numbers greatly disproportionate to their percentage of known space’s population. He is colorful and beautiful, like a peacock, and for the same reason.

[fairycosmos]

ms chloe fairycosmos i feel weird sending this ask but also perhaps i need some closure. from this parasocial relationship (lol). i’m a follower of urs who has sent you quite a few asks on and off anon, not a mutual, but we’ve talked enough that you call me by my name. anyway, i think the time has come that i need to unfollow you, and it’s making me really sad. which is wild, because we aren’t even mutuals, this is truly a parasocial relationship. which i thought you might find ironic, considering your disdain for celebrity worship and all that. ever since your sisters passing, i’ve been here, witnessing your grief, and it’s been heartbreaking, and i’ve just longed to do anything to bring you the relief that you so deserve. the posts you make/reblog of the genre of the world being cruel and awful were sad to see, but i just sort of read it through a lens of “hey, that’s what chloe is going through”. but this past winter, i experienced some new acute trauma that has made being alive just an impossibly difficult task, and seeing that type of everything is horrible post just sends me spiralling now; i have no resistance to it. i know on principle you don’t tag negative posts and just kindly request that people unfollow you if they don’t like it, so that’s what’s up, bye, i guess. but it’s hard to me, because i’m so enamoured by you. which is weird, bc parasocial. but also, i just feel for you so deeply. i think you are a genuinely smart person, and incredibly empathetic and kind. you’ve been dealt a shit hand in life, so you haven’t been given opportunities where those skills could be recognized in a way that is valued in our culture, and that’s awful and unfair. i care about you and your well-being. i hope you don’t stop your work of looking for relief, that thread that keeps you going every day, that has kept your reaching out to therapists and trying despite everything to tap into that relief that i know you know is out there. i dont just want to hit you with some “it gets better” platitudes, which to me erase the seriousness of your grief or the immense impacts of socioeconomic inequalities. you have been going through hell, and i guess i just wanted to say i think you’re beautiful and you deserve rest and joy and relief and i hope it finds it’s way to you someday, the sooner the better. i hope this message wasn’t like, too weird. -🌾

such a thoughtful, perceptive and honestly beautiful message immm ❤️ hm. could definitely cry in a good, bittersweet way. i've read it a few times over since you sent it and just let it settle. also no worries at all - this isn't weird! and you know, while obviously everything on here is parasocial interaction to some degree, i don't think that always negates or delegitimizes the connections shared! this really really means a lot to me, it's basically sweeter and more genuine than any of the conversation's i've experienced in real life lmfao like, ever. also i want to say that it's totally fine, and also that i'm really sorry. for whatever happened in the winter that has made things so hard. i also don't want to overwhelm you with "it gets better" platitudes lmfao but i am wishing you so so much healing, even if the process is painstakingly slow. you deserve the world. and if removing triggering content from ur online space even so much as nudges you in that direction, then of course i encourage it. i want you to do anything and everything that you need to do to feel ok and to create manageable, easy days for yourself as you cope and come to terms and grow. everything warm and kind that you see in me is a reflection of you.

i would be happy to tag stuff for you honestly, we could make up a specific tag for you if you like - but i'm also aware that my memory isn't great and some posts may end up slipping through the cracks which could obv potentially send you spiralling and i really don't want that either. if unfollowing is ultimately what you feel you need to do, then that's completely understandable! anyway, thank you so so much ❤️ for sticking with me and believing in me and seeing me so positively even if it is just through my dumb blog lol. i think the idea of our positive traits not being fully realized and recognized due to our circumstances is such an interesting point of view, i've never framed it like that in my head before. i can't really find the words to say exactly what i want to say, other than that is is literally ppl like you who make me think there is a sliver of hope in life, or even any sort of bearable aspect to it at all. i hope all of the energy that you are projecting onto me finds its way back to you, helps you breathe easier when you really need to. you know i know the relief is out there, and so the same must be true for you. i have no doubt that you are going to find it as well, little by little. let's just both keep reaching out for it for now! sending you so much love and gratitude always x

[wangshuus]

no love left | diluc ragnvindr

pairing: diluc ragnvindr/gn. reader

genre: angst

wc: 3.2k

cw: mild cussing, brief mentions of violence, probably lore breaking too lol. 

summary: falling out of love is painful but maybe it’s what you needed.

note: please read the authors note after the story ESPECIALLY if you’re confused because i’ve implemented a few odd aspects into this story. i was just typing out whatever so essentially it’s more word vomit (again lol) but uhh yeah. most of the important stuff is at the bottom so like i said before, read that authors note at the end!!

lightly proofread, please don’t mind any errors

fic below the cut.

When the esteemed bachelor Diluc Ragnvindr finally settled down with a lover, the news did not fail to spread across Mondstadt like a wildfire. It was the talk of town for who knows how long but as time passed, the people settled down and the buzz eventually died but no one ever failed to acknowledge the young Ragnvindr and his beloved when they were together. Although the two preferred to keep a composed look to the public eye, the admiration they held for each other burned as bright as a summers day in their eyes at all times when they were together; from that alone, anyone could tell they were in love

So where did it all go wrong?

You sat across from Diluc at a table in the winery, the air thick with a suffocating tension that felt like it was going to swallow you whole at any minute now. Your hands rested on the table in front of you as you barely managed to keep your hands from trembling as a storm of emotions stirred inside of you as you felt your composure on the brink of cracking any second. You decided to finally break the silence as you spoke up, a slight tremble in your voice.

“What is it Diluc? Huh? I was hoping you’d have the decency to speak up about whatever the hell is going on instead of leaving me in the dark but it’s been far too long now. Now tell me Diluc, what’s going on?”

Oh the way your words slipped from your mouth made the room feel so cold, even if you didn’t wield a vision of any sorts. Diluc took a deep breath before he decided to speak up.

“What went on between the two of us was purely business.” Was the simple statement he gave.

Was?

“They’ve shown themselves to be quite the individual, wielding good etiquette with both business and a weapon.” He spoke out once more.

“God sake Diluc you’re fucking stalling at this point. You know what, I’ll make it easier for you. Do you still love me?”

There was a pause. A long painful pause. You already had your answer.

“(Y/n), I still care for you more than you can ever imagine, I truly do.”

The words felt like knives piercing through your form and from that, you felt the first tear slip down your face.

“Diluc, are you even aware of how terrible I feel in this situation right now? I’m watching my lover from a far doing lord knows what and you expect me to just tolerate it? I trusted you enough which is why I never pried at it but fuck Diluc, it’s just unbearable at this point.”

“I never did act upon anything in fears of making the situation worse--” You cut him off.

“Making the situation worse huh? So you were out here trying to do some crowd control weren't you? Was if for the sake of not hurting me or or for the sake of not tainting your pristine reputation?”

“I said before, I really do care for you still.” His hand reached towards your own as he held your hand with utmost gentleness. You were almost convinced he still loved you as much as he did in the past.

“However, I can’t deny that our dynamic has indeed changed. I…” His grip on your hand tightened.

“I can’t lie to you and say that I love you the way I did before.”

There it was.

“You don’t look at me the way you used to, you know? Your eyes used to be so full of love whenever you looked at me but that look is reserved for someone else now, isn’t it? You’ve looked at me with nothing but sorrow and pity nowadays and I guess my assumptions of the worst were correct.” You said as your voice trembled even more.

You wanted to pull your hand away so badly, the hand that once brought you such warmth now felt as if it was searing your skin. But you couldn’t. Not when this was mostly likely the last time you’d ever feel such an intimate touch from him. You found yourself to be conflicted as to whether you wanted to pull away out of pure frustration or savour the moment as it could be the last of him you would ever get to have for yourself.

“(Y/n), from the bottom of my heart, I’m truly sorry. I’ve loved you for so long and you’ve given me more love than I could’ve ever imagined. I never wanted things to change but I suppose fate had other plans. I’ll never stop caring for you however, I’m afraid I’ve stopped loving you in the way you’re used to.”

The truthful words were ones that felt like hell to swallow. You didn’t want to believe it but you knew damn well he was telling the truth. The sincerity and softness in his voice made it so hard to be completely mad at him. He was so gentle with his words but the truth of them did nothing but make your heart hurt and ache. An empty chuckle left your lips as your features were now graced with a bittersweet smile.

“Ah, I think I would’ve appreciated it if you were meaner with your responses. Maybe then I wouldn’t have such a hard time letting you go.” You finally managed to look him in the eyes, his reflection showing on your glossy orbs.

He felt his own heart churn with remorse and guilt, seeing as he terribly hurt the one person that he had sworn to love and protect for the rest of his days. He felt sick over the fact he failed to keep part of the promise-- the part where he said that he would continue to love you.

That was one of the last times you had ever seen Diluc Ragnvindr.

--

Your body shook as the freezing temperatures of Dragonspine overtook your senses. You sat up against a rock, your back leaning onto it as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You were barely holding on by a thread as you physically felt numb. However, your mind swirled with a storm of emotions, almost as strong as the last day you had seen your ex-lover but this time, you reminisced on your time as you felt like this would be your final moments.

You pondered over the fact that this might’ve been the reason that he no longer loved you in the way you wished to be loved by him. You wanted his affections, you wanted his love, you wanted him. But you were too weak. That was it. He let you go for someone that was strong, so very strong; both mentally and physically. God, you couldn’t even compare to the likes of them, being nothing but a measly old adventurer, one that wasn’t even fortunate enough to wield a vision. You were nothing but weak in your own eyes; that's what brought you to your demise.

In your hands, you clutched one of the last treasures you had found in the cursed mountains. It was a pretty little collar that held a jewel that twinkled so beautifully despite the dull, hazy environment.

“You do not wish to be weak anymore do you, little one? Do not be afraid, put me on and I’ll grant you the desires you so wish to obtain. Abide by my rules and obtain for me the essence of life and together, we can make sure that everyone will hail before you.”

A voice echoed inside your head as your mind began to spiral. All morals, memories and feelings began to drown out until you were barely hanging on by thread.

“Hurry, time is of the essence! Quick!”

With little energy you had left, you were able to hang the new found possession around your neck. The second you let go of the clips that held the piece together, you felt a tight constriction around your neck, the feeling was suffocating. Just like the last time you had seen Diluc. For a moment, you thought of the red haired male you once held to dear and close to your heart. It ached for him once more in that very moment because he was the very essence of warmth and it was something that you so desired in such a moment like this. The way he held you against him in the coldest of nights in an attempt to keep you warm and oh how it worked wonderfully. It was a memory that slowly faded away with your conscience. Your hands graced themselves lightly around your neck as you struggled to breathe even more than before, your body finally running out of any sort of energy as you fell limp against the cold and soft snow.

Anything. From this point on, you would do anything to get stronger. You no longer cared for any mishaps that happened along the way. You had no love left, nothing but the hunger for power that drowned out the aching void that was now left behind after everything was torn away from you.

“Sorry... to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world. Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn? Then, burn away the old world for me.”

Within the bustling harsh winds of the Dragonspine mountains laid a girl with a jewelled necklace as well as a cold, icy blue orb that shined brightly against the blizzards.

--

“The expedition out in Dragonspine was a complete disaster! The winds were harsher than usual and how could we predict such a nasty storm would’ve been upon us? We planned so far ahead and yet it ended up utterly terrible.” One of the adventurers commented as they were in the process of recovering after descending from the unforgiving mountains.

“Did everyone that went on the expedition come back? There’s absolutely no way we can risk going up there again, at least not for a while.” Another commented.

There was an excruciating silence within the camp.

“Has anyone seen (Y/n)?”

--

Diluc had set out once the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning came upon him. He continued to lurk from the shadows and deal with whatever trivial matters that had to be dealt with in the dead of night as he always did. He had heard of a few nuisances that arose near the outskirts of Dragonspine that hadn’t been dealt with yet. Of course the knights wouldn’t bother with this anyways, as per usual what he thought to himself.

Though the male held a pyro vision, the sharp and bitter cold of Dragonspine was something that never failed to make him uncomfortable.

He swiftly made his way to the location, being stealthy and fast with his movements in an attempt to get the job done faster to refrain from being caught. Once he had made his way to the destination, he remained hidden while he examined the area. In the far distance, he saw camps, hilichurl as well as Fatui camps that were not too far off. His face held a look of distaste as his eyes laid upon the familiar trademark symbol of the Snezhnayan organization.

Just as he was about to step out and deal with the hilichurl camp himself, a figure emerged from afar and into the camp. The movements of said person were agile, fast and swift, ice shards being directed in the direction of every living being on the camp. A blizzard stirred so fiercely upon the camp and as the barbaric bitter winds of the snow died down, there was almost nothing left of the camp that once stood there.

Not a single soul.

Diluc very cautiously moved closer to get a better look at the strange person that appeared before him. His eyes widened in disbelief as he started to make out the figure, his mind refusing to believe what he saw in front him, almost regretting letting his curiosity get the best of him.

“I wasn’t aware that you people are unable to take care of a measly little hilichurl camp. I specifically stated to clear the area before anything else and you couldn’t even follow instructions as simple as that, or perhaps I wasn’t clear enough with my statement?” An icy voice boomed out towards a trio of Fatui skirmishers.

That voice was all too familiar to Diluc. It was so familiar yet it sounded so different, so harsh, so cold. Yet, it was the voice that confirmed his unruly suspicions.

“Make up for your poor performance by getting the camps set up in a decent manner at the very least. I’d rather spare myself the trouble of punishing the likes of you people. You don’t wish to cross me any further, do you?” A cold, hard glare very evident on your fact that was directed to the three in front of you.

They frantically shook their heads, sputtering out a series apologies in an attempt to ease your annoyance.

“Make use of yourselves and set up immediately. By the time I come back to supervise the area, everything should be set up in a manner that is nothing less than perfect. If you wish to please me this time, do as you’re told this time. Now go.” You shook them off with a wave of a hand as they saw themselves away in an instant.

You took your time to avoid the now empty camp that rid itself of almost all remains. A hand placed itself atop the jewel that gracefully sat between your collarbones. The voices that swirled in your head chanting for more power and more life eventually died down as the constrictions of your beloved collar began to loosen, just enough so you could breathe. You let out a breathe that you had been holding before regaining your composure. You stood up straight with a proud stature before speaking out.

“I know you are there, may as well come forth voluntarily unless you want be to bring you out myself.”

Diluc’s blood ran cold when he realized that that you were most likely referring to him, baffled at how you were able to pick up on his own presence. He cautiously revealed himself and made his way a little closer to you. The second you laid eyes on the redhead, you felt like your world stopped for a second. The initial shock was replaced with amusement as the scene unfolded in front of you.

“And to think that last time we saw each other would be the last.” You said before bitterly chuckling.

Diluc took some time to muster up words and recover from his initial shock.

“You never came back from that mission. You were claimed to be dead by the guild the day after and yet here you are. The people mourned over you. I mourned for you. What has become of you, (Y/n)?” Diluc spoke out, pain and sadness laced within his tone.

“Ha, they mourned? As well as yourself? Don’t make me laugh Ragnvindr. Was your mourning perhaps an act in an attempt to keep up your reputation. Would not surprise me in the slightest if that were the case. I refuse to accept the pity of others, and I absolutely detest if it is empty and meaningless. Pity is for those who are weak and as far as I’m concerned--”

You stepped closer to Diluc before you continued.

“I’m not weak anymore.”

“(Y/n), you were never weak--” Diluc said before he was cut off.

“Bullshit Ragnvindr. Utter bullshit.” You harshly spat.

“I wasn’t able to handle myself before. I was nothing but weak. It was one of the reasons you fell out of love with me, was it not? You wanted a strong individual that could take care of themselves and you sure got one, but it wasn’t me at the time. Look now Ragnvindr, I am strong now.”

He took a better look at you as the realization of your position has begun to sink in.

“You... you’re…” In one of the rare times of his life, he was at a loss for words.

“Ah, Ah, Cat got your tongue? Poor boy can’t even muster up any words.” You chuckled mockingly.

“Fatui Harbinger, Ragnvindr. Number 12. Surely you’ve heard right?” You boldly stated.

Yes, he did hear. The Tsaritsa had taken another Harbinger under her wing yet the news and information of said Harbinger was extremely scarce and yet, No.12 stood right before Diluc.

No.12 was once his own beloved.

“What exactly led to all of this? What caused all of this to happen? What have you done to yourself?” The questions kept pouring out from Diluc’s mouth.

“It was quite simple. I got sick and tired of being weak and having things being taken from me. I have lost too many things to count and I have sacrificed many things to become who I am today. I do not regret a single thing I have done since I have started being selfish and being selfish has kept me from getting hurt again. I do not need you anymore, I do not need anyone in fact. I live for myself and to serve the needs of the Tsaritsa to repay her for giving me a chance to live the way I should’ve been all along.” You look at him with a taunting smirk on your face.

The (Y/n) (L/n) that was once known to be the beloved of Diluc Ragnvindr was dead. They died the moment you stepped out of the winery for the very last time. You were (Y/n), No.12 of the Fatui Harbingers. You were the one that sacrificed yourself to a curse upon the Dragonspine mountains in exchange for power to fill the void that was left behind. You no longer had the longing for love; you had none left after all. You craved for power and leverage over others and you refused to let people trample over you like they did before. You refused to be weak again. With the help of your new found vision as well as the curse that now burdened you, you would conquer the world and burn the old one away, along with your old self.

With no love left, there was nothing left to lose after all.

A/N: SOOOO the whole choker thing might be a little confusing but BASICALLY i took the whole concept from the “Love me, Love me, Love me.” song where the girl gets that cursed necklace/choker and i changed the concept around a little bit so that in exchange for power, dear reader has to basically slaughter things to keep the choker from killing them LOL (I’m tired pls my mind if SPIRIALING rn lmfao)

the italics in the second chunk are the weird choker speaking to the reader since it's a whole ‘curse’ thing and the bold italics in the second chunk is basically a quote from genshin from the cryo gemstone thingies and i used it to signify the reader getting a cryo vision^^ there’s a lot i wanna say but i’m too lazy to elaborate sorry lol. kinda feel like making more parts to this bc i feel like the story could go one but ehhh we’ll see how I’m feeling. i really just wanted to make a oneshot where the reader goes batshit after so ahahahahhaha. (also this fic feels lore breaking as fuck but its ok LMAO)