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swordofsuns · 5 months ago

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Dnd arc 4: FINALE! (part 1 ig)

And so our party departs into the tunnels connecting the former city of Axum on the surface to the City of Mirrors in the underdark. The path down is long and winding, and takes us several fairly uneventful days to reach the bottom. along the way we run into some people travelers heading up who fill us in on whats going on in the underdark while we inform them that Axum doesnt exactly exist anymore. As we learn from them, aparently after Ira ran away, her sister, Adhera took the throne from their aging mother, who had stepped down. Adhera made a deal with the Flesh Prince of mutual protection and started a few wars to conquer neighboring territories. Do to this, she ended up getting pretty unpopular with everybody, from nobles to commoners alike, and there is a small rebellion group called The Sparrows who are trying to overthrow her and replace her with Ira. Ira is not thrilled about the prospect of becoming queen, but we agree that we should probably try and get some support from The Sparrows against a common enemy, but maybe try to make sure Ira doesnt have to become queen, as it would mean giving up her art and witchcraft. Later that night Ira has a dream where she meets the Bird who informs her that after Paro died last time, they wont be revived until Ira does something for her in the City of Mirrors, probably relating to the sparrows though this is communicated entirely through charades and interpretive dance so its kinda unclear.

When we arrive at the city, we do some exploring and eventualy run into some of the Sparrows. They are mostly members of the aristocracy who use magic masks to hide their identities and voice from each other, and all have bird codenames (ie Lady Hummingbird, Lord Crow). The two people in charge of the opperation are Lady Nightingale and Lord Hawk. Nightingale is in charge of PR basicaly, and how they convince the people that Ira is the better choice by "crafting a story", while Hawk is a powerful sorcerer (who we deduct is the court mage) who supplies all the magic and technical planning.

They inform us that the only way to get Adhera off of the throne, which we would need to get access to the Well of Creation and save some more of our kidnapped friends, would be to challenge Adhera for the throne in a traditional duel. In addition, it can only be done by an heir to the throne, and the only person in the line of succession at the moment is Ira. Ira very reluctantly agrees, but decides that after becoming queen she can find some way to step down or get rid of the crown, first she just has to take down Adhera.

In the end in the middle of a parade with Adhera in the rear, we all show up on top of a bridge, and challenge her to a duel, and, as we are in puplic, she is forced to agree. also Val notices that the mount that she is riding is a wierd demon monster who probably used to be his sibling.

We all meet up in the main castle, and the fight begins between Ira and Adhera. Though Ira has both her Broom of Flight and literaly Excalibur (I dont think I mentioned that actualy)(Ira found excalibur way back in the fey arc)(it was broken though but Prometheus fixed it on the way down here), she is honestly not really a physical match for Adhera, and is about to lose when suddenly Ira and Adheras mother walks into the room. Adhera, for seemingly no reason (back before Ira left her mother and her sister got along well) begins going balistic, throwing a javelin at her unarmed, unarmored mother, though misses, before collapsing on the ground and begining to froth at the mouth from poison, and screaming about how "SHE DID IT TO ME AND SHELL DO IT TO YOU TOO! SHE WILL DO IT TO YOU TOO!"

Max manages to stop the poison from killing her, but significant mental damage was caused by the poison and adhera is seemingly incoherant. from what Max can tell the poison was a slow acting poison that had probably been fed to her at breakfast. Ira wins the duel by default, and immediately as her first order as queen arrests Lady Nightshade (her mother) for poisoning Adhera, as well as the fact that Ira had deducted that Lady Nightshade was also Lady Nightingale, and thats treason. Lord Hawk/ the court magician is arested as well.

Also Actaeon is getting really old by now, and, when Max does a check up on him he notices that his blood is made of ice and that there seems to be something wrong with his heart.

Also while the fight was going on Val found that their sibling had been turned into a full demon monster, and was being kept as a pet by Adhera, and snuck away to free them, and in return their sibling gave them their parents severed but still beating heart before flying away.

We all go down to the dungeons and try to interogate Lady Nightshade, who admits to having poisoned her own daughter, but what we realize quickly is that she was queen for so long that at this point the only thing she cares about is her kingdom, and how she will do anything to make her people and her kingdom prosper, no matter the cost. When she realized that Adhera was taking the kingdom in a bad direction she led a coup to replace her, but knowing that Adhera would probably beat Ira she poisoned and attempted to kill Adhera so that Ira would be garenteed victory. altogether she is pretty abusive towards Ira the entire conversation. also Ira refuses to wear the crown and instead has it looped on her belt. We try to ask her about the Well of Creation but she refuses to answer other than to say that it will be the death of us. We do discover that she was romanticaly involved with the court mage though

We try interogating the court mage next, who at first refuses to answer any of our questions about the well of creation, but eventualy makes us a deal that if we promise to let Lady Nighshade out of the dungeon and simply banish her forever he'll tell us what we need to know. we dont like letting Nightshade go free but admit that she wont really be an issue if shes banished so we accept, and sent her off with a bodygaurd with orders to keep her safe but also ensure she never returns. After this the court mage agrees to tell us how to get to the Well of Creation, but immeadiately begins laughing because its impossible. first of all, though there is a path to the well of creation beneath the castle, the location of the path is not known to him, and it is locked with the only key being a secret known only to Lady Nightingale, who we cant ask as she is gone now. the only clue we have is that she claimed that it was something only the queen would have access to. Even more than that, though, once we got to the end of the tunnel, the Well of Creation is locked behind a massive set of stone doors that no matter how many adventuring crews they sent, could not be opened. To make things worse, before you get past the door, inscribed in the stone is a poem, and all those who read it were changed forever, simply walking away, selling all their things, and charting a boat off of the continent (oh btw quick worldbuilding thing: there is only one known continent, surrounded by a massive ocean, with only the parts near land charted. nobody knows whats out there of if there is other land masses. Any ships who travel out there either never return, or the people return... different, never speaking about what they saw). Red punches him in the face. Ira also punches him in the face.

Also it turns out that that night as we are discussing our options 1) actaeon begins hearing the drums of the Wild Hunt, calling him towards a battle, though he resists the call, 2) All the priest in the local church of the gravetender suddenly begin screaming about how they were being called for a final battle against an ancient evil and all sudenly and inexplicably turned into moss covered statues, and 3) fires could be seen all over the city as well as screams and sounds of violence.

we realize that were a out of time, and begin arguing over whether to help the Beast end this world in hopes of creating a better one, or help the Gods of the Tower (the current gods) preserve the world in fear of the new one being worse. Red is basicaly the only one on team "dont start the apocalypse" mainly because she is terrified of what would happen if the Leech got any semblance of power, though everybody else is team "whoo yay apocalypse" reasoning that their gods are pretty chill and this world sucks and has been terrible to them. Actaeon also supports the apocalypse because he believes it will allow Red to get her happy ending back. A full on physical fight breaks out between Red and the rest of the party for a bit as she tries to restrain them from ending the world, arguing that we should avoid the Well at all costs. In the end, Ira sneaks off to pay her respects to her dead lover who betrayed her years ago, but is contacted by the Bird, who leads her to a spring in the middle of the couryard, and implied that by dropping the crown in she will lose her title of queen and Paro will be returned. She holds the crown out to the water, feels the weight of her sister, her mother, her ancestors and her expectations, and drops it into the clear water. It drifts down a ways, before the water is filled with a jet black ink, and a the largest bird Ira has ever seen emerges. It is still Paro, though no longer a tiny mockingbird, but a 6 food jet black bird, with 6 eyes and 4 wings. it lands on her shoulder, colosal in size yet light as a feather. She sees the ink of the water drain away, and the liquid dries away, revealing a hidden path deep below to the Well of Creation.

Eventualy, Max convinces Red that even if we dont have to do anything in the well of creation, its probably best to head down there, just to look inside. Red reluctantly agrees and we all head down. At the bottom, we find the massive stone doors we were promissed, and we read the writing on it, though we are not driven mad. I forget how the writing went but it was something like "This is not a place of honor...(insert like 4 stanzas on the existential nature of reality here)...Come follow me into eternity". The poem implies that it was writen by the Drifter (god of peace and safe travel who disapeered 1000 years ago), and seems to be almost a suicide note of him losing faith in reality and deciding to jump into the well in order to stop existing.

Also at the bottom we find the two headed snake man from all the way back in that one random side session after the fae arc (I told you he would be important). turns out hes just been chilling down here for a while and fills us in on some more exposition: inside the door is the well of creation and the pillars of reality. using the pillars of reality we can determine who will win in the coming battle between the Tower(term for the human/modern gods) and the Wyrm(term for the beasts/old gods). also in order to open the door you need the power of each of the 5 elements. together Red, Snake boi, Braxton, Ira, and Kit all manage to push open the door using their respective powers, revealing the room inside. the second we step in, however, the door slams shut and we are locked inside. We start debating on whether or not we should end the world again, though Max is distracted by a message in his and bennys shared message book: "unclamp the eye on the front cover"(the book has a eye in the front). when he does, the eye suddenly open up, revealing a silver pocketwatch inside, which floats up above the well, and begins forming bone and flesh and monocrome suit and goat horns, until standing in the center of the room, fully in the flesh, stands benny. He smiles at us, and thanks us for doing the 1 part of his plan he couldn't do himself: smuggling his phylactery into the Well of Creation.

and this is actualy getting kinda long and im not even halfway done so im pull a hunger games and split the finale into 2 parts. (also all of this and the second part was 1 session. it took 11 hours)

ONE SESSION???????

ELEVEN HOURS????

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phoenix-before-the-flame · 2 years ago

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Scar anon again I'm so sorry for sending consecutive asks but mashima really made the coolest dude + team ever (laxus n the raijinshuu in case it wasn't obvious) and then refused to elaborate like???good sir I would have paid for a full series of Them?? The raijinshuu are so criminally underutilised like I want to know their backstories!! I want to know how they came to join fairy tail!!! I start frothing at the mouth everytime I think about how mashima did the raijinshuu so dirty esp during the Tartarus arc ;- ; anyways sorry for the rant it's like 4 am and I'm having many Thoughts ok that's all from me for real this time 👍🏼 peace!

Everything after Tartarus is my villain origin story lol, not even joking. It's so messy.

Im not singing praises for everything before it ofc there was some jank from beginning to gmg but after tartarus' end the story and characterization really seemed to start coming apart at the seams and it really tanked everything even though at that stage mashima's art was 10/10. Which is a shame bcus tartarus really was a step in the right direction tonally but it just stopped right there. Copped a massive W then tossed it out for consecutive L's.

But yea man! Laxus and his squad! Laxus will forever be a sorta sore spot for me because of the dropped Dreyar family plot thread. The whole dealio with Ivan, Makarov sending Gajeel to spy on him, Laxus' lone adventures. It really could've culminated in either a small side arc or a B-plot of an already existing arc

(I personally would add it into Tenrou. Take Gajeel off tenrou to have him doin his spy gig, accidentally meet up with Laxus during that, plot details regarding the dreyar family happen all while the events of tenrou go down. The duo gets wind of Grimoire Heart heading to tenrou from Raven Tail due to all dark guilds sharing info. The duo head over to tenrou post haste and allowing gajeel to carry out the iconic gajevy moment where he saves her and justifying why Laxus ended up on Tenrou instead of just randomly showing up at the nick of time. But alas, details lol)

Thunder Legion's always been interesting to me though. I'll admit i dont think about them often but they are a pretty unique squad with varying personalities across the board that, on paper, you probs wouldn't expect em to be friends, let alone friends that close and loyal to one another.

Their magics are also a main point of interest because it really is so out there. Freed in essence has an upgraded solid script (plus those unused transformations the beast lookin one from fantasia and the more streamlined one from tenrou), Evergreen has the petrification magic (alongside her main magic with the energy attacks) and Bickslow? Soul manipulation? That can't be legal man. The magic system in FT is really underexplained and has a anything goes sorta deal (hello summoning gods) but man, i would've loved something there for these 3- power limits or drawbacks, how it works, whether its magic they naturally manifested or learned or both. Something along those lines.

And while i don't think a backstory would've been necessary for them per se, because at the end of the day they still are side characters so relevancy of the information learned throughout the story dictates how much is really needed to be known and this extends to learning about how they joined the guild as well (i personally think they all joined as adults tbh. I know a lotta peeps like to think of em as a teen friendship squad but i really prefer it they were an adult friend group. Having a friendship that strong forming in their 20s feels right to me), but i think even a one line or 2 regarding their pasts could come up in conversation for that information to come up naturally.

Like for eg. Freed gives off rich kid energy, so perhaps he's a runaway rich kid like herself but not from Fiore, that could be revealed in a convo with Lucy at some point to strike common ground between the two. Evergreen feels like an orphaned soul turned away (i personally think she gives off Jessie from pokemon vibes) by others a lot so why not a kinship with her and Juvia or even Mirajane? Bickslow the wild card could spout jokes about his acrobatic skills he learned from being a street performer, just something. They're not perfect concepts no, but they're little ways the characters could've been given even a scrap of info to help learn more about em.

Also uhhhh, it always threw me off that they weren't all S-class wizards so i think it would've been cooler if they were a whole squad of s class wizards who attempted a guild coup instead of just 1 s class and his homies. Aight byeeeeee.

#fairy tail #fairy tail headcanon #thunder legion #raijinshuu #listen man side characters are side characters for a reason ofc but something couldve been done to liven em up yknow?#not leave so much up in the air #or unanswered #but like #ft as a series has so much good elements #good art simple enough premise to garner interest fantastic art cool characters and interesting plot threads #everything just needed proper development and thought with how things were supposed to be pieced together n carried out #and how characters would be handled with some decency #but im ramblim lol

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everlastingfable · 2 years ago

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(sorry if ive asked this before but) who exactly is smeaton? what do you like so much abt him?

omg thank you spoon I will go nuts 💖

so I briefly talked about who mark smeaton is here but basically he was a bard in 1530s england who confessed to adultery with the queen and got himself, the queen, and four other lords executed

as for why I like him, it's probably mostly because I'm not able to get enough information to satisfy my curiosity. he's an enigma. mark smeaton was a real living being. there's real facts about him, things he said, done, made, etc. but also he was a commoner so there's also so much about him that isn't known and probably will never be known because he wasn't important enough to make note of. like, aside from he's a "very handsome young man" and "one of the prettiest monochord players" I legitimately cannot find any description of what he looked like. not even his hair color

he's a bard. he could dance, play the lute, monochord, and many other medieval instruments I don't remember the name of. but while we have king henry viii's songs and poetry, we have absolutely nothing of mark's. well actually that's not entirely true, there is this sheet music that might've been mark's that he wrote for anne boleyn. the handwriting matches apparently? but it's not for certain

what was he like? the information we do have about him is from comments made by the lords etc that didn't like him. he was said to be arrogant which makes sense if he was getting a lot of attention from the royals, but how much is that actual arrogance and how much of it is lords and ladies getting pissed that he's trying to act like he's one of them and speak to them as equals? paper was expensive so it's very likely he never wrote down prose or poetry where we can know what he thought. we have nothing about what he thought everything we have is from other people's writings

there are times where I learn things about him and it makes me doubt if mark was ever a real person at all. how could someone so influential be so forgotten? he rarely gets mentioned in tudor history and when he does it's as one of the five men who were executed. the biggest mystery about him is how he was spending like two or three times his yearly salary. where was he getting the money? was he really receiving that much in bonuses from the king and queen? was he doing "favors" and getting extra money that way? we don't know! the accounting books for the five year time period he was employed at court were destroyed/lost (I am frothing at the mouth)

did you know queen mary (henry's first daughter) tried to start a rumor that queen elizabeth (yes that queen elizabeth and henry's second daughter) was actually the daughter of anne boleyn and mark smeaton? the way how he is both so involved and yet nonexistent drives me insane. I have so many questions about him and when I try to find answers I just end up with so many more questions. I know I could probably just make headcanons like I do with my fav fictional characters but mark was a real person. there's actually right and wrong answers but I don't know what they are! I need to time travel so I can study him like a bug I'm not kidding

and there's also the chance that my obsession with joey batey projected onto mark smeaton (he played him in the wolf hall/bring up the bodies stage play) who is depicted as such a little shit and sopping wet kitten in the books there's no way I wouldn't love him. like

(the cut off word was "tears") he's so pathetic I love him so much. he's the ultimate side character who I wish was in the story more because he'd actually be a really really good foil to thomas cromwell. they're both commoners who tried to social climb in henry's court, and cromwell was the one who basically set everything up and used mark to bring down anne boleyn and her circle. I didn't get a screenshot of this but in bring up the bodies someone asked cromwell why mark and he responded "I didn't like the way he looked at me" just that sentence and how well it shows that cromwell thinks of mark like he's a pesky fly I am so

there's also the fact that I cannot for the life of me find a recording of wolf hall and I know it's really unlikely that I'll ever find one because it's not a musical so this itch will never get satisfied. why don't you just watch the tv shows? because 1) it's not joey playing mark and 2) based on the gifs I've seen he's not pathetic enough he's too suave and charming

it's honestly just this inability to find enough information to satisfy me that's riling me up all the time. did you know in the wolf hall/bring up the bodies script book joey is the first one credited? I know it's because he's first alphabetically but man does it feel like salt in a wound when photos I can find of him in the play are like this

#stopping because I'm losing my mind #hhhhhhh #metaphorically holding his face in my hands and begging him to give me his secrets #wolf hall #mark smeaton #asks #spoon cca #thank you spoon!#maybe I should write a historical fic about him like my sister told me to lol #long post

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1bringthesun · 2 years ago

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(2/2)

And since Ayatsuji's still being haunted by Kyougoku, maybe he has some insider information on the mechanics of the Book, which only gives more incentive to the Special Division to keep him around. This is a spontaneous thing I literally just came up with but oughhhhh it makes so much sense to me already. What if he had contact with Fyodor too? They seem like they'd get along. I don't know if you've read the Mayoi original story (Prologue: Happy Birthday), but that one seems to be set ~2 years before the start of Gaiden (assuming that when Tsujimura says in Gaiden that she's been "on this job" for 2 years she's referring to the Ayatsuji case, not her time in the Special Division as a whole, because the latter doesn't seem like nearly enough time to fit in training and stuff, and also it would make perfect sense for her to get recruited shortly after her mother's "death" at age 19 and then start the Ayatsuji case around 3 years later, when she's 21 and about to turn 22), and in it Kyougoku is working with the Architect to set an elaborate trap. And the Architect was a terrorist that was deemed a global threat because he figured out how to destroy just about any structure through sound waves, and he seems like someone who'd make a perfect DOA member. He even has an androgynous appearance (I thought he was a girl at first) and long white-ish hair in a braid, that's like perfect for the DOA's whole schtick. But the Architect is dead (if I remember correctly, Kyougoku killed him or something like that), so what if the DOA then made Kyougoku create Sigma as a replacement? But Kyougoku is really extra so he wrote something absurdly elaborate to force Sigma to develop in a completely unexpected direction before "stumbling" across Fyodor? God the whole symbolism of Sigma's birth is just so specific, it seems perfect for Kyougoku's brand. This is a crack theory I'm coming up with as I write this, but please tell me it makes sense, because it makes sense To Me. Oh also Kyougoku's thing was turning people evil, and the DOA are omens and love symbolism, and they're also almost all younger than Kyougoku, so maybe he turned them evil? Maybe they were his original familiars or something? But then he decided to be more subtle with his meme plans but it was too late and they got out of his control, but he decided to just let them be because he's just Like That and doesn't mind witnessing global terrorism in his retirement age. I don't know

So anyway uh. What if in the next few chapters, Tsujimura appears at the airport to retrieve Bram, Tsujimura's mother is mentioned as being the acting director, Dazai is also somehow retrieved and brought in to nullify Bram's ability, and Ayatsuji appears as the Special Division's captive detective to ruin the DOA's plans, except uh oh! Kyougoku wouldn't reveal information THAT easily (and he also loves seeing the world burn), so he has to go on some side quest to get that out of him. And then maybe like 50 chapters later Ayatsuji finally solves the case, but the DOA just. Doesn't die. Maybe there's a special clause in the Page about not letting Ayatsuji's 100% accurate ability activate, and then there's singularity tomfoolery and 50 more chapters of who knows what. And I'd be there for the entire ride because I'm desperate for Gaiden content

--Gaiden Anon (if you've ever seen Tumblr user spixi respond to asks from a certain Gaiden Anon, that was me. Hi. Gaiden is genuinely a brain parasite for me at this point and I think about it a little Too much, and am always frothing at the mouth to ramble to someone about it)

oh ok so the architect is in fact dead yes, and the first time i saw Gogol i genuinely thought that he and Architect were related, and then when i saw Architect again like a year later, i was like, god he looks like the nikosig lovechild..

would be interesting for sure, also i need more Architect content PLEASE you’re more obscure than Ayatsuji :(((

oh also in the japanese of the gaiden event (not the prologue, the one where Architect’s ghost invites Tsuji x2 to the manor to have some sort of intellectual battle), i’m pretty sure they enforced the androgynous Architect thing by never using gendered pronouns to talk about ‘em, but then the english came and was like “yes this is a he this is a him” THATS IRRELEVANT i just wanted to talk about it um moving on

honestly, it would be really funny if Sigma’s father were some gay old man with dimples who stalks detectives and based on that alone i love your theory, and it’s also totally a convoluted thing i could see Kyougoku doing. the whole thing with memories too; he’s already screwed with Kubo’s sense of self so badly Kubo genuinely thought he was Asukai, so making Sigma unable to remember anything with the book should be a piece of cake.

that begs the question, though, why? why support the DOA when part of their plan hinged on making other people the ‘terrorists’ and operating instead in silence, when his whole deal is wanting to become a known yokai? although the “DOA are his familiars” is interesting, i’m still more convinced they have something to do with an unmentioned Mishima Yukio. i also haven’t done enough research about Kyougoku’s novels to come to any theories about how they could be woven into the bsdverse.

iirc there were a few mentioned loopholes to Ayatsuji’s ability, like how it couldn’t recognize murder even even it was obviously someone’s fault as long as their actions were to save people (like how Kyougoku told the couple if they killed each other he’d pay for their other daughter’s surgery and Ayatsuji got pissed because his ability wouldn’t work on that) or something of the s-

damn it now i’m imagining Fyodor paying for a little girl’s surgery

anyway you’re so cool thanks for brainrotting with me

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd gaiden #theories theories they never end

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mayra-quijotescx · 9 months ago

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'go do the thing' won, and precisely three hours later, I arrived back home with the reassurance that at least I'd gotten that particular side trip out of my system.

The place was lovely. It was. but I am an expert at talking myself out of cool stuff I could buy, and Cool Stuff You Can Buy is the main purview of the place I went. They also had a tarot reader, but I'm quite aware of what's missing from my life, and with no disrespect to people who practice and put stock in divination, the answers and guidance I need aren't going to come from a deck of cards in the hands of a stranger.

The second bus on the 'get there' trip having gotten hung up in traffic and delayed nearly 40 minutes from its original time, my trip to the place took about an hour and thirty minutes, and when an awkward check of my phone showed the first return trip bus was about to land at the 'nearby' transit center, I hastily thanked the shopkeeps for letting me look around and bailed. I'd seen everything in there at least twice at that point, and, this being Houston and not a city worth the title, there was nothing else around for me to spend an additional 30 minutes at. And I was going to need to pee at some point. As a side note, alongside all the other reasons that the 'trans people using public bathrooms' panic is ridiculous, it should perhaps be brought up more that public bathrooms don't even exist around here. Might as well froth at the mouth about us filthy transes destroying the sanctity of the local unicorn pens or teleportation hubs.

For most of the return trip, everyone on the first bus was treated to the noise of another of God's Most Important Adult Children Who Must Be The Loudest Person In Any Situation* (to the point that the bus driver told him off, which shut him up for seven minutes before he decided to see how serious the driver was about throwing him out), I finished the book I was halfway through at the start of this entire 'going outside' ordeal, got off the first bus two streets early and walked the rest of the way to the transit center so I could be alone for a bit and clear my head, but I was rewarded with a most surprising treat on the second bus: seeing someone actually using headphones! I was beginning to fear that what's left of society had entirely abandoned such a basic courtesy.

*my standards for an okay time outside have dropped so desperately low that I wouldn't have even had a problem with this if the music he'd been tonelessly trying to accompany had been any good. Please let your interpretation of that sentence be informed by the fact that I am somewhat renowned for my own lack of musical discretion. His choices were just that disappointingly basic.

Oh, and you know, it was 49F and windy the whole way to and from. Which was actually nice, because that's the kind of fucking weather you're supposed to get here in February, and we've hardly had any.

#hey the next time I get it in my head to take a trip an hour plus out I need you to grab me by the ear point at this post and say 'no'

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bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus · 2 years ago

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Baying Dogs (Rewrite); Chapter Five: Diagnosis

Hello! Sorry for the delay in uploading this, exams are well under way which I've been prioritising. I've also had a freak accident with boiling water and now I have a huge second-degree burn covering one of my arms... that's probably going to take some time to heal.

In the meantime, because I know there's going to be more delays in writing and uploading chapters, lol, have a cheeky lil reread :P. See if you need to rethink your suspects :).

Warnings for: Strong language, gore, body horror (only slight), mentions of violence and menstruation (this isn't me stigmatising, but I know it can still be a sensitive topic for some people so I am giving a heads' up)

Word count: 4, 972

He was horrified. He wanted to gag.

Eyes were wide, bulging.

All he could do was stare.

Price thought he was accustomed to violence and brutality, having been in this line of work for a while now. Even he himself had committed a few atrocities of his own. And yet, here he stood, at a loss for words, like he had just seen death for the first time.

The gore was almost… gratuitous.

“Gaz…” He finally managed to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dougs hadn’t uttered anything. She couldn’t. All she did was cover her mouth in shock as she knelt before the corpse, hoping if she stared long enough… his eyes would stare back.

Flies hovered above the body, occasionally swooping down to take fresh pickings of drying blood.

There wasn’t any heat to him anymore, guts no longer steaming.

Price drew in a shaky breath. He swallowed hard. The horror was subsiding and replacing it was grief, grief which bubbled just under the surface, just waiting to boil over into a froth of anger. The captain could feel it. He was inconsolable. Any mutterings of assurances, any condolences given in goodwill, would only piss him off. Whoever did this... because he damn well knew it was ‘who’. He had known it was a ‘who’ from the start. Only now, as he fell before Gaz’s eviscerated corpse, did he truly care.

This proved that the man hadn’t been hardened at all, nor had he grown numb.

Inside him was a heart which pounded in his chest and a stomach which growled for blood.

They would pay. The murderer would pay.

Slowly, he turned to Dougs.

“You found him like this?”

That wasn’t a question, that sounded like a demand.

His teeth were clenched, lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Yes, sir.”

“Just now?”

“I screamed when I saw him.”

“You better be telling the truth.”

She gulped.

“I am.”

Price exhaled and looked behind to the others.

“Who did this?”

“Sir, we need to report-”

“WHO DID THIS?!”

They straightened up, remaining silent.

Price looked back at the body. Protocol would demand he report to Shepherd and inform him of the death but… God! He needed time. Time to think. He had already acknowledged the reality of the situation but what to do about this information which sat before him, red and raked with gaping wounds.... had yet to be seen.

Gaz had been through a lot with him. Gaz had been his righthand man. Price had kicked off his career in this line of work, mentoring him from the very beginning. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end. Price should be in his place, with his guts out, bathing in the morning sun as it warmed his pallid skin. Gaz was the one who should be living.

The captain had had his heyday, his adventures, his progression.

Gaz hadn’t.

Graves knelt by him.

“Price, we need to report to Shepherd, now.”

Price was paralysed.

Graves shook him a little.

“Shepherd needs to know. Stat.”

Price nodded and got up.

He made to address all of them.

“Whoever’s done this. I’ll fucking find out either way so one of you better start thinking about fessing up. And when you do,” his voice was pretty much a growl, guttural with barely contained rage, “I’ll kill you.”

With that, he took his leave, letting Graves walk him back to the barracks.

And then, there were three.

Dougs could see something white amidst the red once more.

Another tooth?

She looked back to the two men standing behind her.

Soap met her eyes and quickly moved to avert her gaze. Eventually, he decided to head back into the dilapidated base.

Ghost lingered for a few moments longer, staring at the body… like he was in some sort of trance.

He was probably having a rude awakening, much like Price.

Soon, he too left.

I hope you stay put, Gaz.

The medic scurried off but came back in a flash. On both her hands were a pair of gloves, and in her dominant hand, a pair of tweezers. She did what she had done with Weir.

A little bit of twisting, some tugging, the occasional wrenching and hey presto!

In the pinch of her metal grip was another tooth.

Dougs sat by Gaz, cross-legged as the sun was beginning to sit high in the sky.

“I’m sorry, Gaz…” She sniffled, “I’ll find who did this. They’ll be sorry.”

The woman got up, tucking the tooth away into her breast pocket.

“And if I don’t. Make sure you haunt them for me, yeah?”

Dougs headed for the medical room, hoping she could compare the teeth and maybe sneak in some time to begin copying those files into her notebook. She needed to compile all the evidence she could get, because now she was certain this had been a set up.

And she had a feeling Weir did too.

Everyone around the woman was saying men had attacked, or figures of men at least, but Gaz had given Weir a different account.

“You know, it’s odd you two are saying men struck you because Sergeant Garrick over there said it was animals.”

Price had looked over to Gaz, who now had his head in his hands, leg jigging up and down.

“Animals?”

“Aye.”

Soap lowered his voice.

“Gaz is saying animals hit us?”

Weir shifted uncomfortably, rising to her full height from her previous position squatting by the bedside.

“He was the first of you to come to, all of you completely crashed when your bodies hit the beds.” Weir gave a small laugh, shaking her head before continuing, “When I asked about what happened and what I should build my report to General Shepherd on, Garrick said that Task Force 141 had been struck by a pack of animals.”

Price sighed, running a hand over his moustache.

“I think Gaz is pretty shaken up.” He proposed, “I think we all are. None of us were expecting this.”

“If I’m honest,” Weir ran a hand through her hair, “I think this whole thing is a botched job. Clearly, something’s off because we were told one thing and you were told-”

Once she was out of here, maybe Dougs could build a case? Get someone to look, get the right people to look at this.

She sighed.

All she could do was hope.

***

“This is Gold Eagle Actual.”

“Sir, Sergeant…” He took a deep breath, “Sergeant Kyle Garrick has been murdered.”

“Murdered?”

“Yes. Sergeant Garrick has been murdered. Don’t know exact time of death, but we found him in the morning just outside the base, Sergeant Burman-Douglas was the first to spot his body.”

“Garrick’s dead?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shepherd paused for thought.

“Garrick will be noted as K.I.A just as Weir is. Any questions?”

Price sighed. A silence fell between them.

“Status on transport?” He finally asked.

“Can’t say for sure. Northolt have been notified but we haven’t got confirmation on whether we can move into Ashdown Forest or not.” Shepherd was awfully blunt, “No transport has been officially scheduled.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry, Bravo 6. There’s not much I can do.”

Captain Price felt a pit in his stomach form.

Shepherd rubbed his temple, looking back to the beautiful view of the night sky behind him. The man was miles away from the crime scene and yet, he could imagine Price beginning to narrow his eyes.

“Do you suspect foul play?” The general decided to take the plunge and ask the question, his voice crackling a little on the radio.

Graves and Price looked at each other.

“Yes.” Price said, “I do.”

He only got a hum in reply. Whether it was of agreement or acknowledgement could not be determined.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Captain. Keep surviving and keep me posted.

As Price chucked the radio out of his hand, letting it land on the rucksack by his bed, something caught his eye.

Across from him, on the other side of the aisle, the bedframe was off. The metal looked a little bent, there were strange marks on the floor. Marks, which upon closer inspection, revealed themselves to be claw marks.

His eyebrows raised.

Graves watched him get up from his seat and head over to the other side, squatting before the odd one out. The man had shrugged off this sudden bout of curiosity from the captain, just glad that Shepherd had said he’d make sure Northolt would start hauling ass to get someone to them soon.

Price looked about the bed for more clues.

There were claw marks on the floor, along with scratches on the wall behind the headboard.

And whose bed was this?

Well, according to the bag and if memory served well, this was none other than… MacTavish’s.

His breaths grew a little unsteady.

He would wait until the evening, give the murderer a little time to feed his ego, to think he had gotten away with it but, once they were having dinner, Price knew what he’d do.

Graves did too.

Phillip decided he’d use the time Price had given Soap to deliberate on whether he should let John do what he was about to do.

***

A small knock sounded on the doorframe of the medical room.

“Come in!” Dougs called, as she finished packing away her notebook.

Footsteps tentatively crept in, and she turned around to see Soap. However, he wasn’t looking too great. All the colour had drained from the man’s face and he seemed skittery, eyes darting about. She rose up from her squatted position by her bag, not entirely facing him, almost in a combat-ready stance.

“Soap… what’s wrong?”

He seemed almost reluctant to tell, his face twisting a little as an internal debate ensued.

She noticed he kept his right arm close to his chest, hidden with his left sitting on top of it.

“Soap?” She asked, softening her voice a little.

With tears welling in his eyes, he made to meet her gaze.

“I think it’s me, doc.”

He revealed what he had been hiding.

Dougs’ mouth was held agape.

Be professional. Don’t gawk. Don’t gawk.

Alarm bells were going off in her head, though.

His nails were beyond recognisable, blood crusting the edges where keratin met skin. His hand shook as he raised it up for her to get a better look. As she examined more closely, she realised that his nails had in fact been virtually destroyed, split apart by the rupturing of blackened claws.

“Holy shit…”

What she also spotted was strange black veins which spread from his newly emerged claws. They were faint, almost looking like they had been painted on by a thin makeup brush. Except there was a warmth to them, like they were organic structures, with blood flowing through them… a stark contrast to the paling skin they sat under.

“Sit on the bed, Soap.”

He nodded and hopped up.

Dougs sanitised her hands and slapped on the third-to-last remaining pair of gloves. She gestured for him to rest his hand in hers as she eyed them closely, getting a feel for the claws.

“Does it hurt when I press them like this?”

Gently, she applied some pressure to the skin around one of the talons. Soap winced.

“Yep.”

“Okay…” Dougs chewed on her lip, “Could you tell me when this happened?”

“Just now. I… I was in the bathroom, washing my hands when I felt this itching. I gave in, scratched at the back of my hand, around my knuckles when…”

“When what?”

“My hand just locked up, like it was spasming. And then, these pop out.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, but only for a moment. Now, they just sting.”

She really wasn’t sure what to do, nor was she sure what he wanted her to do.

Dougs sighed, though, in her exasperation and indecision, it came out more like a snort. Had she not have her gloves on, she would have scratched her head or stroked her chin. Instead, she resorted to spinning on the wheeled stool she sat on by Soap as a way of fidgeting as she thought.

MacTavish watched her slowly spin side to side, face making an array of ponderous expressions as she considered each and every action she could and couldn’t take.

Dougs definitely couldn’t remove the claws, they looked fixed in place, like his nails would have been. Alsos, removing them could cause more trouble anyway: more pain, increased risk of infection and so on. That was an abysmal idea. She could clean them up a little, though, which might help with the stinging in the long term and prevent infection from getting into the little open wounds from which those talon-like protrusions sprouted from. It was also the easiest thing to do.

Let’s go with the manicure.

“Okay, so, I can’t remove them, but I can clean them.”

Soap didn’t really look satisfied with that.

“Is… Is that it?”

“There’s not really much else. Plus, it might help with seeing what exactly is going on. That dried blood could be obscuring some information.” She suggested.

He shrugged but seemed to agree.

Dougs smiled and swivelled round before scooting over to the kit to grab a few alcohol wipes, some cotton balls, TCP, should it be required, and a bag to dispose them in.

Soap held out his hand. It quivered, which put Dougs at unease. As she tore open a wipe, she noticed the hand beginning to shake more.

Oh no… Don’t do this to me again.

She had to see it through, though! She had gotten everything out now, and she was also a tad bit curious to see what was under the blood. At this point, Dougs was ready to do just about anything if it would shed some light on this absolute disaster of a situation. Her hand hovered above Soap’s.

It was really shaking now.

“Soap, can you try and steady your hand?”

“I can’t.”

He was going to break her wrist, wasn’t he?

Was this a trap?

Was she taking the bait?

“Soap, do you want me to steady it? I can hold your hand still if need be.”

At least then she’d have some control over his arm.

And she was prepared to leap out of the way if he struck out with the other.

Dougs looked calm on the outside, taking steady breaths as she gestured for him to lay his wrist on her open palm, but make no mistake, outward appearances can be deceiving. Inside, she was screeching, a voice repeating in her head over and over for her to not do this. However, like with a wild animal, if you make a sudden move, they’ll respond. Dougs hoped if she gave out a calm aura, Soap wouldn’t freak out.

“Okay, so I’m just going to lightly dab-”

CRAAAACK!

“AHHHH!”

“AHHH!”

Both her and Soap jolted backwards.

His hand had steadied a little, before locking up, fingers tensing, then releasing and with that release… a new length of claws extended upwards. They pushed out with this awful sound, like some bones deep within Soap’s hand were snapping. With that, small tears had also formed on the back of his hand and on his forearm. Tears which bled a little, and also had… hair sprouting from the gashes.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shrieked, scrambling backwards, almost falling off the edge of the bed, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

Dougs tried to shush him, not wanting to alert the barracks.

“Soap, let’s not panic, panicking will make this worse-”

“Dougs, look at my hand!”

He shoved it in her face.

“Look at it!”

Okay, yeah… looking.

Dougs gently moved his hand aside and rested it on his lap.

“We can’t lose our heads. You can’t lose your head, understood?”

His eyes were reddening with brewing tears, lip quivering. Blue eyes stared right into her soul, pleadingly.

“It’s me. I killed them, didn’t I?”

His voice was hoarse, whistling out his throat.

“What have I done, doc? What’s happening to me?”

Dougs paused for thought, wanting to avoid his eyes but they just followed her wherever she went. It was clear he had come to her for a diagnosis, for an answer, whether that confirmed his fears or not. She was his key. And yet, Soap found himself grinding his teeth, impatient, as she cursed him with unbearable silence. Dougs kept her eyes on the ground, once again swivelling side to side on her chair slowly, trying to think. It would be wrong to just regurgitate some falsehood and send him on his merry way but on the other hand, she hated to be the bearer of bad news which was ironic seeing as she was a doctor and that was part of the job.

She had to admit, if it was him, it was strange he had come to her. Sure, maybe telling everyone, especially Price would be a death sentence given his current state but… her?

Well, she supposed maybe the beast knew she had been snooping around. Actually, she didn’t suppose. She met him. Last night, down the hall.

This admission of guilt… Slowly, Dougs’ gaze rose to meet Soap.

He looked almost like a lost pup, eyebrows raised, peaking in the middle, while his eyes remained big and alert. A small flush was building on his face, distress and no doubt illness contributing to the slightly ruddy complexion.

She sighed and looked away briefly.

“It was me, wasnae it?”

“Are you asking, or telling me?” Dougs tilted her head to one side.

“I-”

“Honestly.”

He hung his head low.

“I don’t know.”

She leaned in, looking him in the eye, closely.

Soap held his breath, unsure of what to do as the medic just stared right into his soul. He backed up a little, as Dougs inched a little closer, eyes narrowing.

“It’s not you. It can’t be you.”

He was taken aback.

“What?”

She sighed and got on with cleaning up his bloodied hand.

“Dougs, what?”

The woman simply shrugged.

“It’s not you.”

He scoffed, letting out a small, hysterical giggle.

“What do you mean by that? It could be me. Dougs, A’ve got bloody claws!”

To his surprise, she shook her head.

“Just making sure, this is the first time this has happened?” Dougs queried, gesturing with an alcohol swab in hand.

Soap nodded.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “I don’t think it’s you.”

What the…?

“Do you know something?”

Oooh, that was a good question. Dougs’ lips were pulled tightly into a thin line as she deliberated. She didn’t take Soap as the kind of guy to keep his mouth shut, especially when it came to something like this. He could very well oust her to the whole group if he thought that was the right thing to do, or perhaps share it with a confidante and who would then pass it along. There weren’t many of them left, if someone told someone and then that someone told someone else, it wouldn’t take long for the word to circulate.

A pang of guilt tugged at her heartstrings. He was scared, she could see that clearly.

Well, let’s see if he’s one for confidentiality.

“Can you keep a secret?”

He nodded, raising an eyebrow.

Dougs turned around and, to his surprise, took out the files like there was nothing to them.

“Uh… Dougs?!”

“Shh!”

The way she just brazenly put them on his lap, bold as brass.

She then walked up to the door, checked the hallways for any spies, before closing it.

“Open them.” She pointed to them.

Soap did so.

His eyes widened.

This… this was him. All these symptoms were him now and him to come.

Like an oracle telling the dreaded truths to come, the files bore details that filled his gut with dismay. His throat grew dry as he swallowed hard. Panic fluttered in his stomach.

Gently, he turned the page, only to be met with graphic images of bloodied jaws and… clawed hands.

“Oh my God…”

Dougs sat in front of him, tucking a lose braid behind her ear.

“Shepherd burned us.” Her face was serious, “More specifically, he’s burned you lot.”

“I… I’m going to…”

Soap’s grip on the files tightened a little.

“Hey! Don’t damage ‘em!” She quickly took the manila case from him, “Last thing we need is sticklers realising we’ve been meddling with them!”

His breaths had grown a little ragged. He clutched the sides of his head.

Dougs looked back to see he was beginning to freak out. Really freak out.

“Hey… Hey…” She knelt before him, gently removing his hands before he could hurt himself, “We’re going to survive this.”

“What if they take me away?! Do shit to me?! You’re fine! You’re immune!”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, letting out a small sigh of resignation.

“Soap, I’m on the menu.” That took a lot for her to say, “My fate isn’t either I live to be infected or die. Mine is just death.”

A lump formed in her throat.

Her worst fears were coming true.

This was a whole other level.

Hungry eyes were going to have a whole new meaning.

She stood up, trying to compose herself so she could comfort him properly. As Dougs was about to turn around, to briefly take her mind away from the present, Soap seized her. Her body gave a small jolt backwards at the sudden movement and consequent entrapment. His arms tightened around her waist.

That’s when she heard it: quiet sobs.

MacTavish had finally cracked.

He cried into her, sniffling, voices circulating around his head telling him he was doomed, telling him he was a disgusting animal.

Even if nothing happened… he’d still kill innocents either way.

That was his diagnosis: cursed.

Her hands hovered over him. She was still taken aback.

Only, to realise, as the sobs became more intense, she should probably be kind.

Dougs hushed him, letting him weep into her uniform. Despite feeling the sensation of cold as his tears soaked through, Dougs could also feel heat.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, gulping for air, his breath trying to catch up.

Softly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles with her thumbs as she looked to the door, staring idly off into the distance.

***

Ghost watched Soap hurriedly leave the medical room, wiping his face. He followed the man with his eyes, only for his attention to be diverted by new movement from his periphery.

Dougs leaned out of the doorway, looking drained.

He saw her drop her shoulders as she held the frame of the entrance.

Then, she stretched her arms out, deciding to head for the barracks.

Ghost spotted red.

A light tap was felt on Dougs’ shoulder. She turned around to see Riley looming over her.

He seemed awkward though, robotic almost, as he did his best to meet her gaze.

“Uh… Dougs,” he cleared his throat, “Dougs, you’re… bleeding.”

She looked up at him quizzically. Then, she looked down at herself and realised.

“Oh… fuck.” The woman groaned, “Rhaatid!”

She shouldn’t have ignored the cramping in her legs yesterday and this morning. She was also feeling fairly bloated, but she had just chalked that up to the shitty camping food. A sharp wave hit her, pinching right at her navel. And what followed was cold.

Toilet! Toilet! Toilet, now!

She began heading straight ahead, for the latrine, only to then change direction sharply for the barracks.

Spare trousers! Get spare trousers! No, toilet! Toilet after!

With that change of plan, Ghost watched the medic stop waddling ahead to then spinning on her heel to make for the barracks. Only she stopped, stood by the wall adjacent to the entrance.

She had no shame regarding this but… well, she sort of did, and the not-so-distant chatter between Price and Graves in the room punched a pit n her stomach. She didn’t want them to see. Didn’t want them to ask questions. They probably would pay no attention but… she didn’t know for sure.

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Dougs was overthinking it. A twinge of guilt flicked at her chest.

Her heart began to beat a little faster.

Dougs counted herself down. This was going to be quick. In and out. Get her spare clothes and whatever sanitary product was stashed in the depths of her rucksack and run away.

3… 2…

As she was about to go in, Ghost stopped her.

“Go to the bathroom.” He said, “I’ll get your shit. What do you need?”

Well… I mean… Okay!

“Spare trousers, underwear and see if there’s like a tampon or pad somewhere. I can’t remember if there’s a pack stashed or not but… yeah.”

“Copy. Go clean yourself up, Dougs.”

She smiled.

“Affirmative.”

Dougs found herself sitting on the toilet of the ramshackle bathroom just feeling grateful that they had running water. This place was a shithole, yes, but at least it was a functioning shithole.

There are worse shitholes.

She jigged her leg up and down, filling her cheeks with air and then blowing it out as she waited. The room was cold, and she felt that on her bare skin. Across from her sat her soiled garments, glimpse of red appearing between the folds as they sat sadly slumped in a pile.

She knew this would happen, seeing as the documents did say being in the presence of someone infected would cause menstrual bleeding for whatever reason; but she thought her birth control would save her from that.

Apparently not.

It would seem that lycanthropy trumps birth control.

A small knock sounded on the door. Then, it creaked slightly open, just wide enough for Ghost to get his arm through.

“Got your things.” He stated, waving the items in the air.

“Thanks.”

She leaned forward to grab them off of him.

***

“So,” Graves sighed, looking over his cards, “you still don’t want to open those files?”

Price shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not bothering to make eye contact.

“Shepherd will find out someone’s looked at them and that’ll cause us even more trouble.”

Graves sighed, poking his cheek with his tongue.

“I think we should. Something’s not right here.”

“Something’s not been right from the beginning.” The captain replied, stroking his moustache, just above his upper lip.

With a growl, Graves chucked the playing cards onto the ground and got up, marching to the medical room.

“Graves!” Price called after him.

He began to follow the man, occasionally reaching out to try and grab his arm, only to sorely miss.

Soon enough, he had been led to the dreaded room. Graves grabbed the waterproof bag and set in on the table. Then, like the implications and possible consequences of this action would mean nothing, he pulled out the manila files and spread them on the examination bed.

“We’re fucked.” Price shook his head.

“Ah, we were fucked from the start. Besides, it’s not like I wasn’t gonna get my hands on these files anyway.”

The captain cocked his head to one side.

“What do you mean?”

“I suppose a confession is in order, Captain.”

Price’s stomach twisted itself into knots as his muscles began to tense.

“I was going to steal these files off of y’all. Now, don’t do anything rash. I can explain. Shepherd hired my Shadows and I to get them off of y’all should things go wrong. My company is to be granted some of the spoils either way, whether you survived or not. Of course, we all know what happened to the Shadow team…”

Yep, they did all know. Graves was the sole survivor, getting dragged in by Dougs and Weir, howling at the top of his lungs in agony. His team had gotten it good, and the poor man would have most likely died if he hadn’t been found.

There were no more Shadows, but there was still Graves. He’d still get his prize if he lived.

“This is all a set up?”

“What do you think?”

Price paced back and forth. He should have known. No, he did know. He knew damn fucking well. He just didn’t want to admit it because he was scared. Weir’s remarks and her subsequent death had made it clear, but Price didn’t want to pay attention to it until the truth smacked him in the face.

“Fuck it. Open those files. If I’m dying, I’m dying in the know.”

He pulled up Dougs’ wheeled stool and took a seat.

The two men scanned over the pages, making all sorts of faces as they tried to miss the images that came along with the text. Price had never been good with graphic visuals; he would much rather have those things left to his imagination.

As Graves flicked over to the next page, Price grabbed his hand.

“Wait, go back.”

Phillip did so.

“The female participants instead experienced altered menstrual cycles… which resumed to their normal cycles once women were taken out of the experiment and away from the infected.” He read aloud.

Graves looked up to meet him, eyebrows raised.

“We can figure out who it is.” Price declared, a little glee glinting in his eye.

“How?”

“Whoever was in Dougs’ company when she started bleeding.”

“Are you sure that’ll do it?”

“Worth a try, ain’t it?”

Graves shrugged, scrunching his face up a little.

“How do we even know if she’s gotten her period?”

“We can ask.”

Graves burst out laughing.

“Ask?” He chuckled, “You think you can ask that and get an answer?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

The captain looked genuinely confused.

“Please!” Graves did his best to catch his breath, “You can’t ask. We got no time to ask.”

“Graves, what are you suggesting?”

#cod mw ii fic #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #phillip graves #captain john price #the plot thickens again!#baying dogs

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queenofnohr · 3 years ago

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Describing Asha and Aias’ relationship to anyone always feels like I’m a rabid dog trying desperately to notify someone that little Timmy is in the well u_u

#like I need to tell you important information but I’m also frothing start the mouth u get me?#i can’t even link any of my posts here bc while they’re more encompassing perhaps I also cannot. shut up.#the thirst manifesto

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years ago

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Oooo I have a request where reader is a scout and she has been with levi for a few years, then one day she gets lost during a mission and everyone assumes she’s dead (levi never gives up hope) but she was actually taken to marley. when levi and the gang go to marley before erens attack he ends up seeing her and tries to make her come with them but her memories are gone so she has no idea who he is or what hes talking about. Hope this is okay!

Til Death Do Us Part (Part One)

Pairing: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Canon typical violence, grief, brief mention of self harm thoughts

A/N: did i have to look at an old post of mine to remember my formatting? yes, yes i did, it's been that long since i've posted ajkdibfiebgbeik.

ANON! i hope you don't mind me taking a few creative liberties with this, because the concept has me actually frothing at the mouth. like you've inspired a two, maybe three parter long fic which has been stuck in my head for MONTHS NOW! please i have such ideas for the next few parts but, i hope you enjoy part one!

Part 2

Tagging: @maries-gallery (there you are sweets)

Signature for a funding request? Done. Levi mentally crossed off one of the endless tasks on his list of things to do tonight. He’d had very little time recently, with Eren being kidnapped, finding out Kenny the Ripper was his uncle, Historia’s coronation, and now Erwin’s plan to take back Wall Maria. Paperwork had been stacking up, most noticeably the letters to families of the dead. There were times he felt like he was just repeating himself, each note feeling more and more insincere as the words ‘I regret to inform you’ burned in his mind, and for a man with no regrets, he sure as shit had to write about a lot of them. Levi didn’t know how much longer he would do this specific task tonight, he’d already taken a break to sign off on a few funding requests, training approvals, squad shifts, but now the long, long list of names beckoned him back into his abyss of grief, prompting him to think of all the comrades he’d lost in this seemingly fruitless war.

At least, with Eren’s newfound hardening ability, they actually stood a chance of retaking what was once lost, and that though alone kept Levi going, kept his wrist moving in the repetitive letters of his name. Though his fingers started to cramp, he just wanted to get this one pile done before taking another break to do different work. Four more to go, just four more…

“Need some help?” your voice carried from the doorway between his office and your shared bedroom, and Levi glanced up to where you were standing, leaning against the hardwood frame, your arms crossed over your chest, clad in one of his shirts, in soft disapproval as you watched him work, although your face held nothing but gentle understanding. Levi only realised how terrible his posture was when his back sighed in relief as he straightened up, looking to you as if you’d just offered him a fresh cup of tea, which of course, you were going to.

“You shouldn’t be awake, Corporal,” you chuckled at the use of your title, your feet padding against the floorboards as you walked over to him, your hands instantly travelling to knead his stiff shoulders, smiling delicately as he melted into your touch, posture relaxing against the back of his chair. You stooped to deliver a kiss to the top of his head, your thumbs digging a groan from his throat as you relieved his muscles of tension, inhaling his clean, almost lemony scent from the shampoo he used.

“And you shouldn’t still be working, Captain,” you retorted, your heart swelling as his hand covered your own on his shoulder, taking it to brush your knuckles against his lips, a silent thank you. His absent hum had you stooping, your arms draping down his front as you looked at what he was working on, your brows pinching in aching empathy as your eyes scanned his writing. Letters to the families of the fallen. No wonder he didn’t want to come to bed. “You know you shouldn’t do these so late, you won’t sleep, and we’ll need you tomorrow. More than ever.,” you softly chastised, looking at his face out of the corner of your eye. Levi rolled his own eyes, knowing you were right but not wanting to admit it. Comfort spread throughout his chest as your head rested against his in such a way he could feel your jaw muscles move as you talked.

You two fell into a blanket of silence, content to enjoy the moment of domesticity in a world where death lurks around every corner. He may not say it as often as he knew he should, but Levi was so grateful for you. Ever since you had wandered into his life and completely threw him for a loop, he was so so grateful for you, that you were here, alive, healthy. Still with him, like you had been for five years now. Five of the best, yet most terrifying years of his life. Terrifying because he was so scared of losing you. He was so scared of you dying out there. Of him never being able to say the things he can’t right now, not whilst there was still the danger of either, or both of you dying.

‘Will you marry me?’ was one of those things. One of the things he could never bring himself to ask. He wasn’t scared you would reject him, he was actually more scared of you saying yes. Simply because the thought of losing you having promised ‘til death do us part’ was even more harrowing. And he couldn’t do that. He simply couldn’t. So the silver ring just sits in his desk drawer, the one that needs the key, and has been sitting there for the last seven months.

The absence of your touch brought him back, looking up to see you dragging a chair over to his desk and planting yourself by his side, a spare, black feather pen grasped firmly in your hand as you split the second stack of papers. You always knew what he needed. Even before you two started seeing each other, you would often knock on his door late in the evening to offer your assistance. The first time it happened he thought you were just trying to kiss his ass into giving you a promotion, but it was only until after talking to you did he realise you really didn’t want that.

“I’ll be honest, Sir, the paperwork you have to do is enough to put anybody off that sort of thing. I’m happy where I am now.”

After that he came to expect your nightly visits, often bringing some sort of warm beverage and stolen treats you’d cheekily nicked from the kitchens. He always vowed to one day to dob you in if you continued, tell the cooks exactly where their desserts went, but of course he never did. Turns out Levi has a secret sweet tooth not even he was aware of. But of course you knew. Somehow. You always knew.

His eyes glanced down to the movement of your pen, noticing how it perfectly mimicked his writing, flawlessly copying his style as the ink seeped into the parchment. The softest smile drew across his lips, before he leaned over, placing a small kiss against your temple. For a moment he thought you were too engrossed in your work to notice, until your other hand crossed over to take his, squeezing gently in gratitude.

Once again that blanket wrapped you in a comfortable silence, the only sounds from either of you being the monotonous scribble of metal quill on paper, the occasional little tink tink of the glass ink pot you shared, steady breaths and soft sighs as one letter became two, two became four and soon the ‘done’ pile started to look just as voluminous as the ‘to-do’ pile. And yet Levi couldn’t take his mind off that ring. That question. His fears. Should he marry you before he lost you? Would it be better to officially declare your dedication to each other before one of you died? Or should he propose after the war was over, when humanity was free from the tyranny of titans and everyday became a little safer? And yet that fucking ring taunted him. Calling him to ask you, to at least consider it with you, until–

“I’m going to marry you.”

The scratching of your pen stopped, as did your breathing. The impact of his words landing a solid hit on your concentration, mercilessly throwing you off rhythm, only for you to land in this new conversation. Struggling to recover, you slowly placed the pen down in fear of dropping it. You didn’t quite know where the tears in your eyes sprung from, which emotion had prompted such a response, but you finally chalked it down to joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.

“Right now? You should have told me, I would have got dressed.” you breathed, not quite having the tone of confident humour you would have liked. But Levi knew your uncontainable smile wasn’t from the little joke you made. He knew your searching eyes weren’t looking for some sort of humorous reaction from him, but rather any sign of deceit or doubt. He let you investigate, knowing you wouldn’t find anything other than his undying devotion to you. Your pupil’s dilating in realisation told him exactly what he’d expected.

Levi reached for your left hand, suddenly finding it difficult to hold your teary gaze as he confessed what had been on his mind lately, his thumb and forefinger gently squeezing and kneading the base of your ring finger, twisting the symbol of your union as if it was already there.

“Everything’s so… uncertain, right now. But with Eren finally proving useful, we might be in with a shot of sealing that fucking wall. Another step closer to ending this godforsaken war. If we make it out the other side, when this war is over… I’m going to marry you. That’s a promise.” when he managed to regain his courage to look you in the eye, his heart skipped a beat. Never had he seen his own emotions reflected quite like how they were now, shining back at him. Never had he seen so much of what he was feeling on somebody else’s face. Though he had seen the way you look at him from time to time, with a love that he was sure he could never match simply because he felt as if he could never love you enough, right now in this moment, knowing it was his words, his sentiment, him that managed to paint your features with the adoration you have now, he felt maybe, just maybe, he could do you justice.

You fumbled for words, trying in vain to think of anything to say back. But when words failed you, when you could do nothing but stare in awe at the man before you, your body acted on instinct. The first brush of your lips against his sent goosebumps down your arms, knowing it was in response to such a lifelong promise. When he opened his mouth for you and helped you onto his lap, that was when you poured everything you couldn't say out loud into his heart. This was where your words went, into your actions.

Your hands tangled in his hair, his own secured your waist. Neither of you wanted to move, neither of you wanted to pull away. Here, in his arms, against his lips, dancing with his tongue, nothing mattered. The world of rancid corpses faded away until it felt like nothing else, nobody else, existed but the two of you. It had always felt like the two of you against the world anyway. Your arms came to wrap around his neck, holding him as close to you as you could whilst you both drowned in each other’s presence, only realising his hands had moved from your waist when you felt his thumbs brush away the tears on your cheeks, pulling back just so he could look you in the eyes. “I take it that’s a yes, then?” the question was rhetorical, of course it was. He knew you would say yes, even though he technically still hadn’t asked you.

“Survive and find out, Ackerman.” you bargained with a teary, cheeky smile, your arms still locked around his neck as your forehead rested against his, closing your eyes in content as you basked in the comfort of his embrace, knowing he had full intentions of officially making you his, and him yours.

“I love you.” It was always a rare, special moment when Levi confesses his adoration for you, when he lets himself be vulnerable enough in front of you to speak his mind and heart. You once again allowed your actions to speak for you, still a little too choked up to come out with a sincere enough response. Tilting your head, you allowed yourself to lean forward further into his embrace, resting your cheek atop the crown of his head, your fingers gently threading through his hair. You knew one of his primary love languages was touch. You’d known this since before you were dating him. One slightly drunken, open conversation filled night, you’d actually managed to get some more personal information out of him. Of course nothing in comparison to what you know now, but more than enough to secure your affection for the ravenette.

“I love you too.” Levi smiled into your neck, knowing you couldn’t see such a soft expression. You smelt like him, in this shirt, using his shower gel, his cleaning products. You belonged to him, and everybody knew it. You belonged with each other. That familiar smouldering warmth engulfed his chest with this knowledge, the knowledge that nobody could take you from him. Nobody could steal you away. You’d be by his side even after the war ended.

If you both survived.

Could things get any worse? Probably not. If you were being totally honest with yourself, you knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant day. You both did. But neither of you quite expected the literal worst possible scenario.

“We’re fucked.” you breathed, the slight breeze from atop the now sealed wall floated your cape like a flag, the proud flapping of the Scouts insignia simply adding salt to the already rather grave wound. On the one side, the Armoured titan, previously known as Reiner Braun. On the other, whatever fresh hell the Beast titan posed, surrounded by mindless, vile creatures. Up on the wall, Levi to your right, Hange to your left, Erwin beyond that. But with the wind how it was, only Hange heard your quiet lament, their hazel eyes glancing at you from beneath their hood.

“We’ve faced worse,” usually you could count on Hange to clear the air, reassure you with their boundless optimism. But even they couldn’t keep up the façade, from the greyish blue light of the sky, a light that vaguely reminded you of Levi’s irises, you could see the dwindling hope of escape. The harrowing realisation that this was most likely where the Scouts fell. Glancing to Levi at your right, you’re possibly the only person who could discern that same emotion on his unreadable features. The ever so slight crease in his thin brows, the slightly deeper frown. That’s when you knew you were fucked.

You released a breath, watching the condensed cloud evaporate into nothing, much like how you envision your souls in a few moments. Levi, as if sensing your resolve, turned his gaze from the beast before him, to you. But you refused to look at him. You didn’t want him to see you afraid. Not now. He’d seen you scared, when you’d awoken from a nightmare and thrown up the contents of your stomach, shaking and shying away from every soothing touch he tried to provide, but he’d never seen you afraid. However when he took a subtle step back and brushed his hand against yours, it was difficult to avoid much longer. Though you found not sympathy on his face, but understanding. He knew what you were feeling because he’d felt it too. You all had. Hell, even Erwin looked paler than usual, the man who always had a plan. But though his complexion may have drained of colour, he still seemed to be forming some sort of plan. Thank fuck somebody was. Even with that oversized monkey blocking the route for the horses, you were glad the Commander was able to keep a level head. You listened to him talk about the quadrupedal titan, how it must have seen you as you all snuck up under the cover of nightfall, but if you were honest, you weren’t listening very closely. Not until the furball opened it’s jaws and roared, crashing its fist into the ground moments before every single titan under 10m began running full sprint towards you.

With the ever increasing volume of the Armoured titan clambering up the side of the wall, your heart started to beat like a freight train. You were trapped. Surrounded. Certain death in every direction. Once again as if sensing your further distress, Levi locked his little finger around yours. A small display, but one that meant the world to your stuttering heart. He was with you, til the very end. He wouldn’t leave you. You nodded subtly in his direction, letting him know you were alright, before he stepped back up to where he was.

“Are you finally ready to say something? I could have had breakfast during the wait.” you couldn’t help but fondly huff towards the back of his head. A comment that was just so Levi. A perfect blend of no-bullshit blunt humour, even at a time like this. But he was barely graced with a response before Erwin began shouting orders, after what you felt was far too long a wait time.

“Dirk Squad and Marlene Squad! Protect the horses and the gate with Klaus Squad! Levi Squad and Hange Squad, take down the Armoured Titan!” a uniform salute with a chorus of “Yes Sir!” followed, yourself and Levi included. That was until Erwin stopped you in your tracks, calling back your lover’s name but, you noticed, not your’s. Your heart instantly dropped. He couldn’t separate you. He wouldn’t separate you. “I did say Levi Squad, but I need you to stay, Levi.”

Your breathing halted. But when yesterday was prompted by adoration, this was prompted by dread. You understood the reason, even before Erwin explained. You both knew he was the only one who could get to the Beast. The only one who could take it down. But that still didn’t stop the cold pit of bottomless dread opening in your stomach. You looked to Levi, who’s gaze had narrowed to Erwin. He knew the man was right. He knew this was their best shot at victory, but the mere idea of leaving you…

“It’s okay. Go, you’re needed.” you whispered, both you and Erwin sensing his hesitation. The ravenette’s gaze returned back to you once more, instantly softening upon your features, drinking them in as if this was the last time he would see you. You hoped to god that wasn’t true. Respectfully, the Commander turned his back, allowing you two as much privacy as you could afford at a time like this. Only mere seconds before Reiner reached the top of the wall.

Cupping the back of your hooded head in his hand, Levi briefly guided you into his warm embrace, a sudden longing for him gripping your emotions as you buried yourself in his neck, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as if you were both cuddled up in bed, back home and safe.

He wouldn’t say it now. He couldn’t say it now. As much as he may have wanted to, he couldn’t say I love you. Because that sounded too final. So he settled for the next best thing he could think of.

“Survive.” It was an order. From Captain to Corporal. From superior to subordinate. From lover to lover. It was an order, and you rarely disobeyed. You nodded as you pulled back to look at him, eyes swirling with your reflected determined agony. And once again when words failed you, when you could do nothing but stare at the man before you, you let your actions do the talking, and tugged him down into a searing kiss, your lips moulding instantly, perfectly, against his own. It was brief, a whirlwind of passionate promises, and it was over far too quickly, not even enough time for Levi to properly hold you. Still, the lump in your throat refused to flatten.

Your heads both snapped to your left the moment Reiner’s Armoured hand clamped over the side of the wall.

You were out of time.

“Go.” you softly instructed. A moment of reluctance, before you both turned your backs on each other. You, to join the fight alongside Eren and Hange, Levi to join the fight alongside Erwin and the rest of the Scouts. But the pit in your stomach refused to close.

“Couple’s time is over, I see,” Hange smirked upon your approach. How they could stay so calm given the circumstances, you would never know. But the weight on both your mind and heart matched that of the Thunderspears on both your arms. Biceps burning slightly, you mentally thanked your Captain and lover for all those extra ‘training dates’ he would call them. At the time, you knew they were an excuse to both spend time with you, and also make sure you were getting stronger. It gave him peace of mind, to know you were capable enough to look after himself. You’d never been so grateful for them until now.

“Hange, that might have been the last time either of us see each other alive, some empathy would be appreciated,” you stared flatly at the Section Commander, watching as they turned to you, their hazel eyes alight with the oncoming battle.

“If you wanted empathy, maybe the Scouts was the wrong place for ya.”

“Tell that to my eight years of experience.” you responded instantly, and despite the imminent death surrounding you, you couldn’t help but share a smile with the scientist. You knew Hange was quite empathetic, it was needed to be so high up in command. One needed to have empathy, to understand the feelings of the soldiers beneath them, before making decisions that would most likely put their lives in danger. You always thought it was something Erwin lacked as the Commander. Something you still weren’t sure he possessed.

Lightning struck behind you, not that you made a move. Eren’s transformations didn’t bother you so much these days. A far cry from the flinches and whirls of surprise whenever he would use his ability to shift. Rather, seeing the long haired titan filled you with relief. The fight seemed a little more even now. A little more possible. Less one sided. However you wanted to put it.

All eyes slid to the top of the wall, and the two figures standing against the greying sky. One significantly larger than the other. You figured Levi must have already zipped down to the front, assisting where he could. Your heart instantly ached to be by his side. A longing you knew wouldn’t settle until you were wrapped up in his arms once again, safe back behind the walls. All eyes watched as Reiner turned, seemingly ignoring The Commander, and sliding back down the wall he’d just spent so much effort climbing. Thundering footsteps behind you had you glancing at Eren’s retreating figure. This was bait. It must be. Reiner couldn’t know about all the soldiers armed to the teeth with spears that could pierce his armour like a knife through sponge. He couldn’t possibly know about the advancements made by the Scouts in the short time he revealed himself as an enemy of humanity. Both him and his gangly fucking friend. You tasted venom on your saliva as the blonde shifter began the chase, putting whatever overall goal they all had on hold as he went for the cadet.

“Can’t fucking believe this is working.” you hadn’t even noticed Moblit on the other side of Hange, his perpetually worried face even more creased than usual. You started to think whether the lines in between his eyebrows were actually embedded into his skull at this point. The joys of being Hange’s personal assistant, you supposed.

A soft chuckle rose from the scientist as they simply stood and observed, watching as Eren finally turned to face The Armoured. The last time these two threw down, it didn’t end well for him. But, you hoped, since Reiner didn’t have the help of the Colossal this time, wherever the hell Bertholdt was hiding away, maybe Eren stood a bit more of a chance. Not only that, but you had the power of the Thunderspears now. You couldn’t forget that. This was a battle you could win.

You hoped all was going well on Levi’s side as you fired your anchors, engaging your gas as you linked up with the rest of your squad. The kids you had watched grow from children to soldiers in the span of a month or so. You were almost proud as you watched Connie and Sasha’s teamwork, as you heard Jean’s brutal yet determined encouragement. As you witnessed Mikasa’s impressive skills and Armin’s brain work. You half wished Levi was here to see how his squad gelled so well thanks to his guidance. That flare of pride only grew as the shockwave of Thunderspear explosions rattled your ears, Hange and Mikasa’s coordinated attack striking Reiner in the eyes. You were part of the second stage of attack, the spears that would fly towards the nape. The explosions you so expertly dodged –you weren’t Corporal to Levi Ackerman for nothing– before landing soundly next to the section commander and their assistant.

“One more round. One more attack, and–” you covered your ears the second Reiner opened his mouth. A desperate scream of terror induced rage shook the buildings beneath you, loose stone and rubble jumping around as you tried your damndest to shut out the ear-splitting scream. It seemed like a split second of forever when he finally stopped, your eyes wide, your breathing unhinged. What the hell was that just now?

Hange turned their attention to Armin, the brains they knew the kid possessed now working overtime as those blue eyes looked back to them in confirmation.

Yes. That was a signal. Yes, most likely to Bertholdt. Yes, you should all get the fuck out of here as fast as you could.

As if on cue, your squad looked up to the trajectory of a barrel, and the body that just flew from it. It was Bertholdt, without a shadow of a doubt. Fear lanced through your chest, your last thoughts turning to Levi as you engaged your gas with the intention of getting out of the blast range. Not that you could. You’d all seen what destructive power the Colossal titan possessed. You were all as good as dead.

“REINER!”

You couldn’t tell if it was the wind in your shattered eardrums, or whether you did actually just hear yet another desperate scream. Though this one sounded much more human. You chanced a glance behind you, only for your heart to break ever so slightly. This was Bertholdt. Throughout the entire time you’d known the kid, he was never once ruthless. He was never once cold blooded. He was nice. Sweet. A little shy. And seemingly hung up on…

Annie.

You understood now. You understood how Armin got through to him last time. If anybody used Levi against you like that, you would have acted the same. That raw, unbridled compulsion to protect him, and you knew he had that same compulsion. That same urge to keep you safe, no matter who got hurt in the process. You were brought out of your strange reverie, considering the circumstances, by the severe lack of explosion. Firing your anchors into an intect spire, your twisted feet finding purchase on the rough stone as you watched the scene unfold.

It was Armin who confronted the wolf in the guise of a lamb, and though you couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, you could tell from Bertholdt’s expression, the blonde had once again brought up the subject of Annie. That same hollow eyed look you recognised from before. The wild, unrestrained gestures from the taller man. No, you thought. Kid. They were all still kids. 15 at most. Were those who used these two any better than you sending out those same 15 year old kids to die at the hands of the man eating monsters? What was their agenda? They must have an ulterior motive. Their sole purpose couldn’t be to wipe out what was left of humanity. What would be the point? Where did they even come from? Was there really nothing left outside these–

“MIKASA!”

Your head snapped back to reality, eyes re-focussing on the dark haired girl currently tumbling from the rooftop. Bertholdt had landed a harsh blow to the side of her head, a counter attack to the vicious slice of her blade to his ear. You were moving before you’d even registered firing your anchors, gas hissing behind you as your instincts to help the cadet kicked in. Instantly your hands fell to her wires, only slightly tangled due to the short fall.

“Get up. He’s gonna transform and we’re right beneath the blast range.” It was a short, firm order, and one the girl didn’t hesitate to follow as her limbs were untangled. But she seemed to pause, obsidian eyes set on you. “The hell are you waiting for? GO!” you shouted, desperately ushering her away with an outstretched arm. You had a feeling she knew what you did. Mikasa was faster than you, not by much, but she’s a young Ackerman. She would just be able to clear the blast range. You, on the other hand…

“Thank you.” she muttered earnestly, before turning on her heels and in a short leap and pull of a trigger, she was gone. You took your chances the opposite way. Mikasa would have wanted to get back to Eren, no matter how close or far away the boy was. You, on the other hand, like most, simply wanted to clear the blast range. A quick glance up had your stomach dropping. Bertholdt was already at his peak height, high enough to simply bite his hand and transform. You weren’t going to make it. You were still very much beneath the explosion. Maybe you wouldn’t be caught up in the flame, but the shockwave would definitely send you spiralling.

A strange calm settled over your racing mind as your thoughts turned to Levi, a gentle smile pulling at your lips as you relaxed into your fate. With your eyes closing, the thunderous explosion rattling the earth behind you, you held his hand one last time, your mind’s eye showing you comfort, before searing agony seized your spine, and you remembered no more.

Nope, not you… that wasn’t you either, not you, not you, not you–

Levi scanned the small crowd of survivors, most ashen faced and bloodsoaked, but still breathing. Hange’s arrival had been a welcome relief with the circumstances as they were. He couldn’t have fought off Mikasa alone, the little Ackerman having overpowered him due to the exhaustion that clung to his bones like lead. He felt heavy. Limbs, muscles, mind. Everything felt heavy. He’d chosen some kid over the Commander. Some child over his friend. He’d convinced himself at the time it was the right thing to do, Hange too nodding in agreement, but could he really sleep at night knowing he let Erwin die?

Yeah, he decided. Yeah, he could. If you would just show your face already so he could relax for the first time since yesterday evening. So many among the dead. Though it may have technically been a victory, nobody was celebrating. The air stank of death and decay, iron lingering on his tongue. He just needed to know where you were. Collapse into your hold and just let the world around him melt away. He just needed to see you, to feel you, to touch you–

“Captain Levi, Sir…”

He was so sick of hearing that tone. Using that tone. It was a tone of informative grief. He’d used it time and time again when he had time to visit the families of the fallen, but not once had he ever heard it directed to himself. He’d never felt his blood freeze with so few words.

Not you… not you, not you–

“What?” he responded, flat toned and stone faced. Emotions pummeling against the solid wall he’d spent years constructing, filling in any cracks that may have appeared over the years. It was Mikasa currently using that tone, not something he ever expected. The girl was just as cold as he was when she wanted to be, and most of the time it was directed at him anyway. But hearing so much emotion in her voice, so much sympathy… it instantly had him on edge.

“The Corporal… I wanted you to know that she, she saved my life–”

A crack.

“I attempted to take down Bertholdt but he anticipated it, sent me down. Caught up in my ODM gear, the Corporal helped detangle me…”

A split.

“I think she knew… I think she knew she wouldn’t make it out but, she did it anyway. She saved my life, I’m here now because of her and I’m– I’m sorry.”

Shatter.

It was you. It was always you. You were here you were there you were everywhere you were–

“Gone…”

You were gone. Gone. The word repeated in his head, a carousel of grief circling in his mind. You were gone… you were gone. It no longer sounded like a word. Looked like a word. The O was wrong. Was there always an E? It looked distorted, sounded twisted. You were gone. Levi always thought when his walls shattered, it would be overwhelming. It would drown him, emotions welling up and spilling over until he was ready to burst but he felt… he felt nothing. Like the sudden void in his chest had absorbed everything. A piercing silence screamed in his ears. There was nothing, nothing nothing nothing–

Because you were gone.

And suddenly the weight of the ring didn’t feel so joyous anymore. Suddenly the next few years weren’t filled with hope, but rather agonising emptiness. He couldn’t see it. There was no future. It stopped here. There was nothing left. Nothing to work towards.

He told you to survive. He’d fucking ordered you to survive. It wasn’t like you to disobey. Not once did you question his orders. Not once did you fail to follow them. He could trust you, he could rely on you, he could love you with so much of the heart you stitched back together, using your own red string. The sutures bursting, the thread fraying. You were gone.

“Levi…?” it was Hange. Levi’s mind pleaded with him; ‘Let them in, please let them in, we need them, we need help, we can’t do this alone!’ a ridiculous folly. He’d done everything alone. He’d always been alone. It didn’t matter that he had you, that you’d been with him. You and him against the world.

The idea made him laugh bitterly.

“Levi?”

How long had he been on autopilot? How long had his muscles remembered this feeling, and taken over. How long had he simply been going through the motions? Judging from the gentle glowing flicker of candlelight, it had been the rest of the journey back. From Shiganshina to HQ. He felt cold, but he didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel anything. He last saw you atop the wall. Alive. Breathing. Feeling. Shaking, crying, shivering, drowning, drowning drowning drowningdrowningdrowning–

“Levi!” Hardwood bit into his knees but it wasn’t the bite he deserved. That pain, this pain, he needed it, craved it. Anything, anything anything to take this away. To drown, he needed to drown, in what he didn’t know, but he needed to drown. He winced at a harsh claw in his hair, only to realise it was his hand, scratching against his scalp. It was his tears soaking his sleeve, his voice that cracked and sobbed. His heart that shattered in his chest. He was drowning.

And it was pathetic. Looking down at himself, shrivelled, curled. He looked like a child. A scared, disgusting, broken, tired, so so tired–

“She’s gone…” they were the only words he’d managed to choke out since he lost you. At least, the only ones he chose. All other words were empty, devoid of thought. But those two, these two, they consumed him. You weren’t just gone.

He’d lost you.

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thatpunnyperson · 3 months ago

Text

This one's gonna be kind of long so im putting it all under a cut, but the tl:dr is "I was a gifted kid and we had it so good without realizing it."

I was one of the gifted kids in primary school and was able to scrape by in the honors and advanced placement classes until well into high school, and I 100% DID have exactly that chip on my shoulder. I thought advanced kids were treated badly when they failed expectations and needed help, because there were enough kids with the work ethic to allow them fabulous success. The comparison between me and them showed I wasn't even in their league when it came to academics, but I felt like they were somehow getting more resources from the teachers than I was, or were getting graded differently or less harshly than I was (at no point did I think they were getting graded "easier," which tells you how big that chip on my shoulder was about "gifted kids" versus "normal kids").

Until I had to take the normal-level government class to round out my graduation requirements. (And the messed up thing is that the "normal" level was still called "college prep" and there was even a "standard prep" level below that. I was so up on my high horse from taking years and years of advanced placement classes that I hadn't even KNOWN there was a standard level.)

Anyway, this government class was supposed to teach us about how to be an informed citizen and how to participate in civic things on all levels, from local school district and city hall stuff to the state and federal levels. It was taught by one of the 40 football coaches at our school (student body was ~2000 kids) and he was a frothing-at-the-mouth conservative republican, and that seriously tainted how he taught us things.

Highlights of his behavior include:

Making us debate current political issues, but not by simply dividing the class in half. No, we had to form our own sides based on our own political beliefs, which led to several of us realizing some of our classmates didn't think we deserved certain rights

Interrupting the more liberal students when they were giving answers to subjective questions, and then soap-boxing about whatever we were talking about

Interrupting the female students a lot while they were giving answers to BOTH subjecting and objective questions. Anything from "what is the first amendment" to "where is city hall located" to "who should be allowed to own nukes"

NOT interrupting the male students AT ALL EVER, which was wild but not surprising since all the guys seemed to be conservative and republican-leaning.

The two things that made me realize the true difference between the gifted kids classes and the normal kids classes were the amount of attention the teacher gave the students and the first time the drug dog came in.

Teacher Attention

In all of my advanced classes, if I started struggling with something or if I got a few bad grades in a row, my teacher would ask to see me after class or over lunch to chat about why I was struggling and with what specifically I needed help. These chats would include anything from why i didn't like reading certain assigned books to why a math concept didn't make sense to me, and even included recommendations of tutors to see.

In my government class, when I started getting bad grades (because it's kind of hard to engage with a subject when the person teaching it doesn't respect you at all), my teacher didn't come to me and ask to talk to me about why I'm struggling. He simply reported it to the administration folks and they called my parents. Who then yelled at my about how I was failing, because "who fails government" and "who fails a non-advanced class" because my parents had never had to deal with a kid failing classes yet. They didn't know how to help because I had never needed to ask for help, both because I hadn't NEEDED it at first and then because my teachers volunteered their help without me asking.

The Drug Dog

I was literally in my final year of primary education, literally less than a few months from finishing everything and graduating, when my government class was interrupted one day and we were all told to stand outside the building while some cops and a dog went through our stuff. "Leave your backpacks unzipped and open, leave your jackets and sweatshirts at your desks, go stand outside," they told us. I turned to my friend, Val, and was like, "what is happening???" and she gave me a confused look and said, "its just the drug dog??" and I was like, "the WHAT????"

Val had been in several non-advanced classes at this point and realized that I had NEVER had this happen before. I had NEVER had class stopped so the cops could come in with a sniffer dog and search everyone's things. I had never even been searched for drugs ever at all in school. But this was commonplace for non-advanced classes, so everyone opened their backpacks and took off their sweatshirts and left their stuff behind as they went to stand outside.

I was wearing a pullover sweatshirt with no hood, but as a shirt so I was only wearing a bra underneath, so obviously I couldn't take it off. My teacher and the cops and the administrator didn't like that. They were like, "you HAVE TO take the sweatshirt off" and "you can't leave the classroom unless you leave the sweatshirt" and I pleaded with them that I was wearing it as a SHIRT and that I didn't have anything on underneath. It took the female administrator taking me into another room, closing the door, and having me literallt take my sweatshirt off to PROVE I was wearing it as a shirt, for me to be allowed to leave the building and stand with the other kids.

And when I got out there, several of my classmates were like, "what happened" and "what did they do to you" and "are you okay" and "you should have just taken the sweatshirt off" and stuff like that, with genuine concern and sympathy and understanding. When we were all let back into the classroom, there was dog saliva all over everyone's stuff, bags had clearly been rifled through, and everyone's sweatshirts had been turned inside out.

And then we went back to the lesson! As though nothing had happened! 15 minutes of our 50 minute class period had just been wasted for what felt like an illegal search of our stuff and so the cops and admin could intimidate students! I had to take my shirt off! I couldn't focus the entire rest of the day because I was legit shaken by the entire experience, but all of my classmates were so beaten down by this regular violation of their rights that they just kind of accepted the treatment and went on with their day.

To Conclude

Everything is relative and when you are deprived of context, you start festering in this microcosm of your own experiences, trying to define some kind of continuum of good vs bad, respect vs disrespect, support vs lack thereof. For gifted kids, all we knew was that we took "harder" classes and were graded "harshly" because we were expected to perform like college kids. And without the knowledge of what classes were like outside of the gifted kid world, we started defining bad grades as the result of a lack of support from our teachers or as the teacher playing favorites. We were never really held to account for our behavior because we were legit treated so well and gently without us even realizing it. We became so entitled to a high level of support and respect and legit babying at some points, that we started to consider the non-advanced classes and the students in them as dumber than us. To us, they were simply not smart enough to handle the rigor and difficulty of advanced classes; the reality was the opposite.

It's been more than a decade since I took that class and I've since gone to college and somehow managed to get an entire bachelors degree (which is mindboggling for other reasons), but I remember each day of that class as though it happened yesterday because the way my classmates and I were treated is burned into my mind. The day we had the drug dog show up was the day was stsrted telling everyone I knew about how shittily the student in non-advanced classes are treated, about how there is a completely different framework at play for gifted kids that assumes trust based on intelligence. In every advanced class I took, I started telling all of my friends about the bad treatement, I told all of my teachers, I told random classmates I'd never spoken to until then. I was like, "guys, we have it so good, we are so lucky, and it's so messed up."

Gifted kids have some of the biggest chips on their shoulders because when life is good, you try to find the catch and you start picking at the seams holding things together. And sometimes you make up things to be mad at just so you can be mad about something. From one gifted kid to all the gifted kids out there: school was hard not because the teachers were playing favorites or actually grading us harsher, but because we all had imposter syndrome and invented social hierarchies to make us feel like we fit in and weren't imposters. This is a classic demonstration of privilege: we weren't smarter than the normal kids, we just had the privilege of more support from out teachers and the privilege of not getting interrupted mid-lesson so the cops could search through our bags and let their dog slobber on our stuff. We had the double trouble of both the absence of a punishment and the presence of a reward, and it fucked up literally everyone in the school.

Like theres this idea among so many "former gifted kids" that they were Above Tha Rest and treated with a much harsher hand for it and well that simply isnt true

#things that make me want to run for city council or join the school board #things that make me want to sue my school and school district

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