#it's as my sister called it: do you love the color of the attack on titan thoughts post

[annalyticall]

Thoughts on Attack on Titan

Me being 10 years late to things, I was recently convinced to watch Attack on Titan and I ended up binge-watching the entire anime (and reading the final manga chapters) these last two weeks. I had purposefully been dragging my feet about watching this show since I had heard so much controversy surrounding it; that it was sexist, pro-fascist, pro-nazi, pro-imperialist, pro-propaganda, and heavily anti-Semitic. All pretty good reasons to stay away from something, I think.

But then I saw a video about how the criticisms leveraged against it were not quite so black-and-white, and how the show was more complex than those labels gave it credit for. Admittedly, that piqued my interest. I want to come to my own conclusions about the media I consume, so I decided to watch it with an open mind and a discerning eye.

And boy did I discern... a lot.

I am recording my very very lengthy opinions about Attack on Titan and its manga ending under the cut, mostly so that if anyone asks how I feel about certain things portrayed in the show, I can reference them to this post. Here's a quick table of contents:

The Themes

The Good

The Bad

The Problems

The Characters

Conclusion (and why Jean is the best character you can't change my mind)

Anime and Manga spoilers ahead.

The Themes

Attack on Titan tackles a lot of different themes throughout the course of the story. Possibly too many. Right now, I'm listing the big ones I noticed here because I will be referencing back to them later. Also note I am stating these themes as they are presented in the text, not as my own personal beliefs.

The human desire to create meaning in life and death. Does dying for a cause give life meaning? If the cause is hopeless, would dying for that cause be in vain? Is it enough to know that the living will continue your legacy after death? Does honoring the dead give their life meaning? Is the gift of life itself meaningless if not used to ensure humanity's ongoing survival? Is it enough to simply exist? Characters that most embody this theme: Zeke, Eren, Armin, Jean, Levi, Hange, Erwin, Historia, Ymir (of the Cadets), Marlow.

Everyone is shackled to a dream. Does the desire to fulfill a dream make you a slave to it? Will devoting your life to a dream of freedom make you paradoxically a slave to the very ideal? Will the hope of achieving a dream drive people to do terrible things they never would have otherwise? Is true freedom in the ability to let go of a long-held dream? Characters that most embody this theme: Erwin, Eren, Levi, Kenny, Armin, Jean.

The corrupting power of love and loyalty. Similar to an enslaving dream, will blind devotion to someone (in a romantic, platonic, subordinate, or familial relationship) drive that person to do terrible things just to be with them or make them happy? How far can that love go? Is blind devotion even love? Is it wise to love if it creates fatal weakness? Characters that most embody this theme: Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Zeke, Annie, Reiner, Falco, Historia, Ymir (of the Cadets), Ymir (The Founder).

The cycle of violence is endless. As long as more than one person is alive on Earth, there will always be conflict. Is it worth fighting to break the cycle when the cycle is inevitable? Is it necessary to perpetuate the cycle in order to survive in a world that forces violence? Is humanity worthy of saving if saving it demands the loss of one's own humanity? Characters that most embody this theme: Erwin, Eren, Armin, Reiner, Jean, Floch, Hange, Levi.

The pursuit of truth and wonder are the driving forces behind humanity's ability to work together. Propaganda and the obstruction of truth might work to pacify the populace short-term but will always be defeated once people put in the effort to truly understand others and the world they live in. The promise of discovery and truth are invaluable sources of hope and ingenuity. Characters that most embody this theme: Hange, Armin, Erwin.

People are people. Everyone is capable of great evil or great kindness, regardless of what nation, class, or race they were born into. Everyone has strengths and everyone has weaknesses. Everyone is influenced by their own hopes and dreams. The recognition of these innate similarities is crucial for forgiveness and acceptance across boundaries. Characters that most embody this theme: Reiner, Jean, Eren, Armin, Sasha, Gabi, Falco.

There is no accurate measure of good and evil. Being a "good person" is subjective, based more on personal goals and cultural ideals than on a base standard for "good." When faced with a difficult decision, perhaps it is best to choose whatever option will cause the least regret, a measure that is unique to everyone depending on an individual's values and on unknown outcomes. Live a life you can be proud of. Characters that most embody this theme: Armin, Annie, Levi, Jean, Eren, Reiner, Gabi, Ymir (of the Cadets), Historia

As you might have noticed, I chose to summarize many of these themes in a list of questions, and for good reason: oftentimes, the theme is raising a question but is almost never interested in giving it a straightforward answer. Instead, AOT will often raise a question, and over the course of the story, you get to come to your own conclusions depending on how the characters act. For example, I listed Jean as a character that embodies "meaning in life and death." Does Jean give Marco's death meaning by honoring his memory and values each time he's faced with a moral dilemma? That's up for the audience (and Jean) to decide.

Compared to other shonen that tackles similar themes and questions, this freedom of interpretation was novel for me, and for the most part, I loved it. Fullmetal Alchemist is the only other shonen I can think of that I've seen that touches on similar subject matter, but the tone of FMA is not nearly as dark, bleak, or ambiguous. While I also love FMA, the world of AOT is much more harrowing to navigate, and I found it exhilarating to have my preconceptions of its world challenged at every turn. Such a thematic approach felt grounded since real life is also not so easy to navigate. Unfortunately, this also has a glaring downside, which I will discuss in my "The Problems" section.

The Good

The first 3 seasons and almost everything that entails. To be quite honest I have very little to criticize about this show before the basement reveal. The pacing is almost perfect and I was always on the edge of my seat wanting to know more. The mysteries are intriguing and, upon slowly getting more and more answers, the narrative either only raised more tantalizing questions or completely recontextualized previous scenes, constantly giving the show new breath. The action is exciting, the stakes are heart-poundingly high, the losses are devastating, and the gore is graphic and stomach-churning but I think it necessary to absorb the horrifying and hopeless nature of the setting, which serves to heighten the few victories the characters actually do get to experience. There also isn't much of The Problems yet in these seasons.

The music. The soundtrack is undoubtedly one of the best aspects of this show and is quality throughout.

Animation. While I prefer the fluid and expressive animation of the first three seasons compared to MAPPA's comparatively stiffer animation of the final season, MAPPA still gave plenty of jaw-dropping sequences for the most impactful moments.

A tragic, queer, CANON romance. The fact that Ymir is canonically lesbian is amazing to me if only because I haven't watched a shonen yet where one of the main cast is actually lesbian, let alone has a significant portion of screen time devoted to establishing her unambiguous feelings for another woman who also reciprocates her feelings. AND THEN their romance ends tragically in-universe not because it's gay but because of narrative circumstances that were simply beyond their control or understanding. "My only regret is not marrying you." How romantic is that?

Female character design. Specifically all the big noses. As a big-nose-haver it makes me happy to see women have big noses and still being seen as pretty. That, paired with the fact that women are hardly ever sexualized and are often portrayed just as strong if not stronger than the men was nice to see after being exposed to so many infantilizing and sexualizing shonen tropes. That said, there could have been more diversity in body shape and skin tone.

The setting (of Paradis). I am going to stress here that I strictly like the world-building of Paradis, which is the main setting of the first three seasons. Marley and the rest of the world after Season 3? I'll get into that later.

Erwin vs. Armin. I consider Levi's decision to save Armin over Erwin to be the true thematic climax of this story, and I thought it was exceptionally well done. I've seen endless arguments about whether or not saving Armin was the right choice, so I'll throw in my two cents: if you think Levi should have saved Erwin, you are Missing The Point. In this moment, Levi, a character who fights for the greater good but is not quite as pragmatic as Erwin and who has a deep hope for humanity's future but is not quite as idealistic as Armin must make an emotional choice here, not a tactical one. Maybe saving Erwin might have been better for the Scouts, but the truth is Erwin was selfish, and Levi had already come to terms with this when he told his old commander to "give up on your dream and charge to your death." Armin, on the other hand, had a pure and selfless dream about the world outside the walls, and that is what Levi decided to value for humanity's future. That is the symbolic meaning of that decision, not whether or not Erwin would have been a tactically better commander.

It is enough to simply exist. Manga spoilers for the final chapters ahead. I said this was a question raised by one of the main themes of the story, "Is it enough to simply exist?", and I was pleasantly surprised that the ending gave it an answer through the conversation Armin has with Zeke. After so much deliberation about genocide, sterilization, war, the inherent and unbreakable cycle of violence, and so many other depressing themes surrounding the depraved nature of humanity, having the main takeaway for the series be "we were put on this Earth simply to enjoy it and to enjoy each other" was a cathartic release. I know I'm probably going to cry when that bit is animated.

The Bad

The frustrating thing that is Eren Yeager. I suppose this is biased but I really do not gel with Eren. Even in his Season 1-3 era I did not like him and his one-track angry boy mind, only ever finding him tolerable during the Uprising arc when he got a healthy dose of humility which he immediately ruined with his pitiful self-flagellation in the midst of a dire titan battle but I digress. This characterization does make a whole lot more sense though when he enters Season 4, when all of his personality traits are only slightly twisted in order to make him the villain, ala Walter White. Didn't make him any less frustrating.

The frustrating thing that is Mikasa Ackerman. She started out great. Then Eren turned into a titan for the first time and things quickly went downhill. After that, it seems like her character was retroactively changed from being the stoic and protective older sister to being the blindingly devoted and fussy love interest. I might have been okay with it if she had ANY other defining character traits, or hell, even any relationships outside of Eren and Armin. Manga spoilers, but she doesn't even have a strong relationship with Jean, who she apparently marries in the epilogue. Between Eren and Mikasa being two of the three main characters, I unfortunately felt very little towards them which was a not-so-small problem in my enjoyment of the series.

The humor is... fine. I get it, a show as dark as Attack on Titan probably shouldn't try to be funny, nor would I expect it to be. Still, the few attempts at humor it did have fell flat for me, especially when a lot of it leaned on Sasha's potato and meat gags (and a really uncomfortable torture gag after the Uprising Arc? Hey, what was that about? That was kinda fucked up, right?) Now that I think about it, the hardest I ever laughed while watching this show was when Reiner nonchalantly tells Eren that he and Bertolt are the Armor and Colossal Titans simply because I wasn't expecting the biggest bombshell reveal of the story thus far to be so casually dropped like that.

The Titan mechanics got so fucking convoluted. Don't get me wrong I love a good mystery and I don't necessarily mind the supernatural time-warping twists that the Titan storyline took up to a point. It's just that the story kept adding so many conditions to Titan powers and lore that it was getting hard to keep track of it all. Okay, so the Colossal Titan will create an unavoidable nuke during transformation even though it clearly didn't do that at the raid on Trost, sure. Okay, so Reiner can survive a fatal injury to his person as long as he manages to transfer his consciousness to the Titan body first, sure. Okay, so Eren can't awaken the Founding Titan's ability unless he's in contact with someone of royal blood, sure. Okay, so the Founding Titan's abilities can alter the biology of all Eldians, and also control all Titans, and also deactivate all Titan hardening, and also impose the will of the king onto all its future royal successors, but it's somehow NOT the Titan with the power to see the future? Sure? Okay, so Falco inherited the Jaw Titan, but because he was originally turned with Zeke's spinal fluid, he ALSO inherited aspects of the Beast Titan even though Zeke is still the Beast Titan and it's never been established that the spinal fluid used for the original Titan transformation affected the inheritance of Titan shifter abilities? Why not, at this point.

Uprising Arc and its overly simplistic military coup. I didn't dislike the arc as a whole, but it was a very lengthy detour from the main objectives the series was already on track for and added to the repetition of Eren getting kidnapped. Additionally, I thought the coup to overthrow the old government was too... easy? It was really only made up of two setups: one to expose the corruption of some random military police guy to the press and turn public opinion in favor of the Scouts, and one to expose the government's selfishness to the military commanders enough to convince them to depose their current leaders and pardon the Scouts. Then the Scouts essentially say "Hey Historia here just killed a Titan and has royal blood (trust us) so she's going to be the queen now. Please ignore the fact she is also a Scout and therefore could easily be a puppet queen for the military branch that was until very recently public enemy number one" and everyone just kinda accepts this. I don't know, it didn't do much to sell me on realism in a world that had done so up until that point.

Wow, the stakes are getting pretty high, I wonder if... WAIT, 80%?! That was kind of my reaction to the whole manga finale. I don't mind high stakes, but when we're talking about the horrific genocide of 80% of humanity at the hands of our main character, uh, that scale is a little hard to grasp. This also feeds into The Problems, which I'll get into later, but all in all, I think after a certain point the story just got too big for me to stay believably invested in what was actually happening.

Endgame plot thread irrelevance (especially for the female characters). Why did Historia get a whole story arc just to be sidelined and pregnant for the whole rest of the story? What happened to Yelena? What happened to Mikasa's relationship with the Azumabito clan? What's the deal with Ymir? So many things were rushed at the end that it was disappointing to see so much setup for very little payoff. Unfortunately, the female characters seemed to get the brunt of this.

The Problems

Okay, so this section is basically why I made this post to begin with. I want to address all of the criticisms I've seen for Attack on Titan and give my honest opinion on them because, yes, I do think it's more complex than I've seen people give it credit for, but neither is it free of harmful interpretations either.

On the topic of being Pro-Imperialist, Pro-Nazi, Pro-Facsist, and Pro-Propaganda: Attack on Titan is positioned against all these things. Just because a media depicts something doesn't mean it's condoning or endorsing it. Imperialism, fascism, and propaganda are all present in the story but are very often forces that the main characters must fight against. It might not go as far as to say "military bad" but it definitely says "war bad, genocide bad, euthanasia bad, blind devotion to one's country bad" and a whole host of other issues that it does not depict in a favorable light. Now, the viewpoints of the mangaka might be in question, and I can't say much about the way he supposedly views Imperialist Japan. I'm just saying, in the context of the show, I don't see an unquestioning approval of imperialism being portrayed here.

On the topic of Sexism: eh, maybe. It feels weird to be so nonchalant about that but to be honest, it's not prevalent enough to stand out compared to other shonen. Female characters might not always see fully fleshed-out arcs, but neither are they handled in a way I would deem sexist other than the very strange exception of Mikasa's one-sided obsession with Eren somehow mirroring the "love" a child bride sex slave had for her abuser 2000 years ago. That said, strong characters like Annie, Ymir (of the Cadets), and Gabi manage to have fairly compelling motivations and growth while also being love interests. There's really no fan service to speak of, and some of them even get to be gay. So, you know, I'll take it.

On the topic of Anti-Semitism (Disclaimer: I am not Jewish): yeahhhhhhh... so, up until the end of Season 3, I was confused about this claim. I mean, there were Titans, mindless man-eating monsters that could resemble the blood libel spread about Jewish people, but I thought it was a bit of a stretch. Besides, while the walled city is evidently based on 19th-century Germany, there isn't really a divide between the people who live there and the people who can turn into Titans; given the right conditions, any human character in the show could potentially turn into a Titan, so I didn't see the problem. If anything, I thought it was just a modified take on the zombie apocalypse genre.

Then the basement reveal happened, where it's revealed the walled city we had been following the last 3 seasons wasn't actually the last bastion of humanity as both the audience and the cast once believed; it is actually an island where distinct people called Eldians fled to escape the persecution they faced for their unique ability to turn into Titans. Turns out the rest of the world is populated by many diverse cultures who all hate the Eldians for their ancient Titan-enabled crimes against humanity. The Eldians who aren't trapped on the island of Paradis live in the gated ghettos of the Nazi-Germany-coded nation of Marley and are forced to wear star-embroidered armbands to denote their subhuman status.

Okay. Yikes, I thought. But I still gave it a chance, because as I mentioned before, just because something is depicted in media doesn't mean it's being supported or condoned. I was hoping that, at some point, the claim that Eldians committed atrocities with the Titans or the claim that only Eldians can turn into Titans would be proven wrong. Neither of these hopes came to fruition. It's revealed that Eldians did a lot of good with their Titan powers, true, but they also waged endless warfare in the name of a King that enslaved them. So, while they weren't really to blame, they certainly did commit the crimes that earned the world's ire.

This is a problem. If the imagery of the armbands and the WW2 ghettos were never involved, perhaps I could give the story the benefit of the doubt and see the Eldians as a fictional race created for the purpose of illustrating the cycle of violence and the need to relate to each other as humans first. But the problem is, they are very explicitly compared to Jewish people, thus insinuating, whether intentionally or not, that Jewish people do have these monstrous qualities and did commit crimes that earned them the oppression they continue to face when in reality, they did nothing to deserve it.

As an additional "yikes," there's also the questionable existence of the Tyber family, the only Eldian family in Marley allowed to have wealth and political influence. It's revealed that the Tybers have essentially been pulling Marley's strings the whole time, which... wow, really doesn't do much for anti-Semitic conspiracy theories that Jewish people are actually in control of everything, huh. Thankfully, the Tyber storyline is short-lived, but then there's the Yeagerists, a fascist Eldian party that wants to counter-genocide the entire world before it can genocide Eldians. Triple yikes. Let's throw in Zeke's plan for forced sterilization against his own people for a solid quadruple yikes.

However, there are also important distinctions to make between Eldians and Jewish people that are in the story's favor. While the Eldian people of Marley are mistreated and considered subhuman, Marley still puts in the effort to brainwash them into thinking they are the "good" Eldians in order to earn their unconditional loyalty and turn them into frontline soldiers in their war to conquer other nations and the island of Paradis, something that doesn't really mirror Nazi Germany and gives us a reason to sympathize with the Eldians who were once the "bad guys" of Season 1-3. There's also the fact that 95% of the show's main cast IS Eldian, and up until the basement reveal we've only known them as human. Everything until that point has essentially served to make us identify with Eldians more than anyone else. While the rest of the world may dehumanize them, we the audience react negatively to any mention of them being less than human because we've only ever seen them fight to survive in a world where they thought they were humanity's last hope. We want to see them make it out of this alive.

And here's where my internal conflict with the show lies; it would be so much better if it cut out the WW2 imagery. Sure, there would still be plenty of subtext that could lead people to compare Eldians to Jewish people, but it wouldn't be so distractingly obvious and spur additional real-world comparisons where there aren't any. The sudden jump to 20th-century Germany is also somewhat jarring and I wouldn't have minded if Marley was based more on just another nation of the same era rather than a 100-year jump forward of the same setting (though it does make in-universe sense, what with Paradis being 100 years behind technologically but I digress). Basically, I think a LOT of the story's problems with probably-unintentional-but-still-present anti-semitism could have been avoided if the war and race allegories weren't given the same tact and grace as a David Cage game.

But now that brings me to what I think is Attack on Titan's fatal flaw: thematic ambiguity. "But Anna," you may say, "you said the freedom of interpretation is what you loved about its themes." You're right, I did say that. I still do. But ambiguity is a double-edged sword: it gives the audience freedom to derive unique meaning from the text and connect with it in deep, personal ways, but on the other hand, if a theme is too ambiguous, the author runs the risk of either telling a meaningless story or telling a story that conveys an unintended meaning. I think an author must have SOME intention with a theme if it is to be included, and must provide some sort of guide (usually with a character or two) to point the audience in the right direction. I'll give an example of what I mean for both instances in Attack on Titan.

For an example of a well-executed ambiguous theme, I'll turn to the question "Is humanity worthy of saving if saving it demands the loss of one's own humanity?" that I listed under the "cycle of violence" umbrella. Specifically, this question is raised after the Battle of Stonhess, where Erwin allows a Titan battle to rage in the middle of a populated area for the slim chance he could capture Annie alive and extract information from her. This decision cost hundreds of innocent lives, and worse of all, Annie was of little use to him. Erwin stands behind his decision for the greater good and Armin rationalizes the battle as a net gain, but Jean presents Armin with a counterargument: "If it's that easy to let the fight turn us all into monsters, maybe we don't deserve to win." Still, we aren't given an outright answer to who's right and who's wrong here. Instead, the guide we are given is in the way ideologically-opposed characters like Erwin and Jean are treated by the story: Jean maintains his humanity, minimizes civilian casualties whenever possible, and in the end, is left with few regrets. Erwin, on the other hand, feels the weight of all the lives he callously sacrificed in the name of a "greater good," which we learn was perhaps more selfish than he let on. Upon resigning himself to death, he laments all the innocents who died at his command. It is through these characters that we learn who, ultimately, was in the right, and what that theme is trying to tell us (also coincidentally applying to the theme "live a life you can be proud of.")

For an example of a poorly-executed ambiguous theme, I'll turn to the question "Is it necessary to perpetuate the cycle of violence in order to survive in a world that forces violence?" that I also listed under the "cycle of violence" umbrella. This question is perhaps no more apparent than when the main characters are faced with the terrific power of the Rumbling, basically a Titan-powered WMD Eren uses to preemptively wipe out humanity before it can inevitably attack Paradis. While many characters deliberate the ethics of this, there are two characters who have starkly different viewpoints: we have Floch, a Yeagerist who is in full-hearted support of the attack and is uninterested in saving human lives if they are not Paradis Eldians, and we have Hange, who despite being a Paradis Eldian beats an impassioned fist against a table and delivers the rather on-the-nose line "Genocide is wrong!"

So who's right? Well, anyone with any sort of media literary sense will say "Hange, obviously." Because Hange is portrayed as a good person (usually) and Floch is portrayed as a villain (usually). The problem is both these characters fight valiantly in the name of their cause and incidentally die in the same scene while imparting their wishes to the heroes for how they want the world to be. Anyone watching who harbors even a fraction of Floch's nationalism might see that and say, "Floch was in the right. He righteously died for his country and he almost won against an impossible enemy." There's also the problem that Hange does not give an alternative answer to the Rumbling and even admits they don't have one, they just know the Rumbling is wrong, which doesn't do anything to add to the theme in question. Unfortunately, the Rumbling is presented as the only reliable line of self-defense for Paradis, as it's already established that diplomacy has almost no chance of working and that the only other plan is, of all things, sterilizing the Eldian people to appease the world that wants them dead with as little bloodshed as possible. What would have been the only other recourse, the order of a partial Rumbling to wipe out the world's military bases, is immediately taken off the table when it's revealed Eren never had any intention of doing that. Therefore, the story doesn't give us any answer to this question at all, since the characters never get to find an alternate solution for themselves and are forced to simply stop the Rumbling before it can kill too many people despite the risk of dying in the process or play along with Eren's predetermined plan. For a story so bent on saying "genocide is wrong" it does a weirdly good job of presenting it as a survival tactic.

Now, I wouldn't normally have that much of a problem if a story fumbled a theme or two. Not everything has to land perfectly. That said, Attack on Titan NEEDED to deliver these themes clearer than it did, because of one major reason: it was dealing with questions involving fascism, genocide, war, and eugenics. You should not casually raise these issues as a backdrop to a theme that can't be delivered on, because then you run the risk of attracting people who very much are pro-fascist, pro-genocide, pro-war, and pro-eugenics and will blatantly misinterpret everything in the text in order to warp it and fit their worldview (a risk I think FMA managed to avoid by being very blunt with where it stood on those same issues). On the flip side, you'll also repel people who otherwise might have loved the story because at some point they heard someone say "Oh yeah Attack on Titan is awesome, the Yeagerists are cool and I agree with the main character's plan for genocide," and rightfully be put off from that. Then they'll turn around and tell the next person, "Hey, don't watch that, I heard it's pro-fascist and pro-genocide," and that person will go "Oh thanks I didn't know that, I'll stay away from it," and that person will be me for the last ten years.

The Characters

Eren and Mikasa: I'm lumping these two together because I already talked about them at length, but I will say, for being the two main characters on which the finale hinged, I think they were both too simplistic to fully deliver on any of the complex themes they represented. Hell, when listing all the themes each character embodied, I only listed Mikasa under one of them, which is not great for a deuteragonist. Not only that, but Mikasa didn't even really deliver on her one theme: she broke the Titan curse by "letting go of her enslaving love for Eren," but did she really? She kissed and then absconded with his decapitated head to give him a proper burial, then returned each year to his grave with Jean and her family (who remained faceless) to leave a flower behind for him. I get it, he was important to her as a childhood friend and that alone means she should try to remember him despite the monster he turned into, but the framing of this suggests she never really let go of him and was shackled to his memory even as she tried to move on.

Armin: The thing about Armin is that while I ultimately think he's the heart of the story and the main driving force for good (as evidenced by the fact he's the only character I listed under ALL the themes I mentioned earlier), he also reads more like a symbol than a character. That's fine, a character doesn't need to go through an arc to be good, but for me, personally, a character in this kind of setting needs some form of growth for me to form an attachment to them. I'm not just talking about how Armin steadily grows okay with murder because that still doesn't do much to change his rosy outlook on life. The most excited I ever got about Armin's development was when he manipulated Bertholdt into thinking Annie was being tortured because holy shit that's kinda dark for Armin and I thought maybe his strategic mindset was going to start getting the better of his morals, but then that's never really touched on again. It's because I was never quite sure what the rhyme or reason was behind his actions that I found myself disconnected from him as a character, despite being inspired by him as a symbol.

Jean: My favorite character and a sorely underrated one at that. Won't say anything more about him here because I'm dedicating it to the Conclusion.

Levi: Second favorite character. Back when Attack on Titan's popularity was at its peak, I would see Levi on my dash all the time and I would roll my eyes thinking he was just another brooding anime bad boy the girls were fawning over. But I get it now. Yeah, he can brood, and yeah, he can be a bad boy as an ex-criminal who is no stranger to violence, but most of all he's compassionate. He cares deeply about the lives of his comrades and almost never values the "greater good" when decisions are left up to him. Granted, I think he becomes a little one-note after the Erwin vs Armin choice when he resolves that his only motivation from now on will be killing Zeke, but you know, after everything Zeke put him through, I think he earned it.

Hange: Third favorite character. They injected much-needed energy and sincerity into the story right from the start, and they only became more complex as the story went on and circumstances forced more and more responsibility onto them. I'm also glad that, while they are a good and moral character, they also don't mull over hard decisions that a veteran soldier probably wouldn't mull over. If worse comes to worst, they know they may have to resort to torture or violence to protect their comrades and the pursuit of truth. Still, they almost never push this any further than necessary, unlike Erwin before them.

Reiner: Fourth favorite character. I had basically no opinion on Reiner until Season 2 when he pushed Connie out of the way of a Titan's mouth and I thought "he's kinda cool." And then so so so much happens after that. I almost never knew how to feel about him. Is he the bad guy? He's killed so many people, he has to be. But then, why do I still like him? Why do I feel so bad for him? Season 4 only added to those mixed feelings, showing him to be suicidal and suffering from PTSD after all the violence he inflicted when he was just a child soldier. I think most of the themes about "people are people" is best illustrated in Reiner, and how he is able to overcome the pain of life through his dedication to the next generation and to the former friends he had hurt in the past.

Ymir (of the Cadets): Fifth favorite character. Like Reiner, I didn't really have any opinion on her until Season 2. While her contribution to the story is brief, it did a whole lot. Her backstory is technically our first introduction to a world outside the walls which also introduced a whole new mystery. Also, her love for Historia was probably the most genuine example of romantic love I can point to in the entire story, and the most emotionally touching one at that. She's also the one who introduces the theme "live a life you can be proud of" verbatim, which proves to be important for everyone.

Sasha and Connie: Truth is, I don't really have any favorites after Ymir, and how I feel about everyone else is some variation on neutral (except Floch). As for Sasha and Connie, I'm throwing them in the same bucket of "likable-enough comic-relief characters that have some semblance of a character arc but not nearly enough to justify their screentime." People might hate me for this, but I actually think Sasha contributed more to the narrative when she was dead than she did when she was alive. That doesn't mean I wasn't sad when she died, though.

Erwin: People might hate me for this too, but I think Erwin is overrated. I think many dudebro fans see him as the peak representation of heroic masculinity, as an unflinching and at times ruthless commander who takes charge and shows no weakness. That is not true. It's revealed Erwin does have a weakness, a selfish drive to redeem his father's suspicions about the outside world, a drive that makes him fear his own premature death, in the end. True, that drive has paved the way for the Scouts to clear impossible hurdles but also has it led to many senseless and brutal deaths that the story does not intend to justify. Erwin is flawed, incredibly so, and I wish more people could see that.

Historia: I had no opinion of her in Seasons 1-2, even during the love story she had with Ymir. It wasn't until the Uprising arc that she grew on me, as she started to mature beyond her "Disney princess" persona that had previously seemed so out of place in a story like this. That said, after she got pregnant in Season 4, I was disappointed to see that there wasn't much of a point to her character anymore despite being the literal queen.

Annie: I wanted to like Annie. I wanted so badly to like Annie. That's really only for aesthetic reasons because when the show was at its peak I saw her on my dash and fell in love with her as a fellow short blonde girl with a big nose and a name that starts with Ann. After getting to know her character... well, I don't dislike her. I think she served her role in the story well enough. She's just fairly simple once you learn her motivation, and she's hard to get attached to if you don't like emotionally-constipated characters.

Bertholdt: Oh, Berry. Unfortunately, every feeling I could have had for him I already felt 5x more for Reiner, so Berry became rather redundant. Also, his constant stare unnerved me. I did feel bad when he died though. RIP Berry.

Marlow: He didn't have a huge part in the story, but I think he was significant if only for one moment: the second before his death when he thinks of Hitch. Here we are given an everyman who wanted to rise to his calling and dedicate himself to the greater good, who was so driven by ideals and politics that he bravely gave his life for the cause he believed was right, but just before he meets his end, it's revealed to him that what he really wanted was a life with the girl he only just realized he loved. I think that one moment tragically encapsulated the main message of the story; we are here simply to enjoy life and enjoy each other.

Gabi: Again, people might hate me for this, but I liked Gabi. I think she did a good job of being a mirror of what Eren could have been had he been born in Marley, and/or if he had learned to sympathize enough with the enemy to have given up on his revenge plan. She went through a lot of horrors to get the growth she did, and I don't really understand the vitriol some fans have for her, even considering the fact she killed Sasha since killing Sasha and then learning that doing that was a bad thing through the kindness of Sasha's family was kind of the point. Also, as if Eren wouldn't have done the same thing in her shoes. She's a brainwashed child soldier, come on.

Falco: It was a breath of fresh air to have, like, one genuinely nice good kid for once. He's a necessary addition to Gabi's arc I think, since he's the one that keeps her grounded and helps her realize that the Paradis Eldians are not evil. His Jaw/Beast Titan powers are OP though.

Zeke: Hated him throughout all of Season 3 besides only knowing him as the Beast Titan. Season 4 rolled around and I did start to sympathize with him given his upbringing and the way his brother Eren used him after thinking he finally had a family he could be close with. I still didn't feel all that bad when bad things happened to him though, given the things he's willing to do to impose a sterilization "solution" to his own people.

Pieck: Getting into "they're fine but don't add much to the story" territory here. She's smart and has a sleepy-girl charm about her, I guess. She also has that one cool moment where she points to Eren as the enemy, but as far as her relationship with the main characters goes, she basically has none, which makes it hard for me to get invested in her.

Onyankopon, Yelena, Magath, and Kiyomi: Lumping all these characters together as the notable non-Eldians with their own agendas. I had no strong opinion on any of them. Onyankopon was cool, but I thought Magath changed his stance on Paradis too easily in the end, and Yelena and Kiyomi barely contributed anything that couldn't have been done by some other character. Their true purpose was really just to establish that there were different cultures outside of Paradis.

Floch: Saved the best for last. And by best, I mean worst. He's the anti-Jean, if you will; the everyman who, when faced with dire circumstances, turns to brutality and strength rather than humanity and compassion. It's fitting, I think, that he's the one who not only advocates saving Erwin, Jean's ideological opposite ("We need a devil!") but he's also the one who tempts Jean into a character regression since he's a representation of what Jean could have become if he stayed what he was like early Season 1. Other than that, he's a cupcake-head fascist whose dumb face I got tired of looking at even before he become a fascist. I just fucking hate Floch, man.

Every other character I either don't have anything much to say about, like Grisha, Shaddis, Pixis, Rod Reiss, and Hitch, or they died too early for me to say much about, like Porco, Petra, and Marco (although I did love Marco and I was incredibly sad when he died).

Conclusion (and why Jean is the best character you can't change my mind)

So, to take my thesis-length thoughts and distill them into one coherent sentence, my overall feeling on Attack on Titan is this: it's a well-paced, well-constructed story that is consistently engaging and thought-provoking about real-world issues, but is ultimately held back by its final act where the scale and allegory become too big and clunky for the story to properly handle. Many things that were so well set up in the previous three seasons sadly unravel at the finish line. That said, that doesn't mean there is no meaningful or worthwhile conclusion to be had in Attack on Titan; I think it still had a stronger finish than, say, HBO's Game of Thrones. I connected with it in a deep way that I haven't connected to any other piece of media lately besides maybe when I played Dragon Age last year, another story that raised thought-provoking themes about real-world issues but with admittedly clunky allegory. Most notably, though, I think my enjoyment of Attack on Titan was highly dependent on one character in particular, a character who acted as a reliable anchor point to come back to whenever the bigger ideas got away from the story.

Here's where Jean comes in. While Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are essentially mouthpieces and figureheads for the much-too-big themes they represent and are somewhat washed out as characters because of it, Jean delivers on all his themes perfectly while maintaining his believability as a character. In this world, he is basically just some guy; despite being talented, he's not as driven as Eren, he's not as strong as Mikasa, and he's not as idealistic as Armin. Jean himself recognizes all these things, but he also recognizes how their strengths also come with weaknesses that he can make up for. He sees Eren as cool but also suicidally reckless, he sees Mikasa as capable but also overly-dependent, he sees Armin as brilliant but also in need of a backbone. He then steps up to fill those deficiencies; to answer Eren's recklessness, he does everything he can to preserve his own life so that he can continue to serve others; to answer Mikasa's dependency on Eren, he makes his own decisions and creates strategies to get everyone out of trouble, not just Eren; to answer Armin's cowardice, he steps up and relays Armin's genius plans but with a stronger sense of leadership and authority.

But he wasn't always like this, and that's the most important part; Jean started as a selfish, cowardly, and entitled asshole. Floch says this outright. The only thing early Season 1 Jean cared about was securing his place in the top 10 and choosing a position among the Miltary Police where he could live the rest of his life in peace and luxury, the rest of the cadets be damned. I think this is a pitfall a lot of people in the real world can fall into: in a highly competitive and individualistic society, people have little incentive not to step on others in order to achieve a better life for themselves, and this is the very pitfall Jean nearly falls into. It's a relatable flaw, as little as people might want to admit it.

Yet, among all of Jean's negative pre-Trost qualities, he has two that can be seen as positive: his keen perception and his blunt honesty. Marco tells him as much. After the first battle in Trost, Jean, despite his reluctance to take up responsibility, sees opportunities to get his fellow cadets to safety and uses his insight into their strengths and weaknesses to guide as many of them as he can since he's the only one at the time who can take up leadership. Afterward, Marco tells him he makes a good leader not because he's strong, but because he knows what it means to be weak. He is able to lead because he doesn't delude himself with false hopes or illusions of grandeur; he knows exactly what is at stake and what hurdles everyone needs to overcome in order to have a chance at both winning and surviving. Jean is humbled and inspired by this, realizing that he would better serve in a field where he could potentially save lives instead of wasting his talents in the Military Police where he would have nothing to apply himself for.

But his real call to action is Marco's death. After losing his one true friend, Jean resolves to give up his dream of the Military Police and dedicate himself to the Scouts, where he can live up to the potential Marco always saw in him. If we are to take the theme of "true freedom is the ability to give up a long-held dream" to heart, then Jean is actually one of the first characters to achieve true freedom in this story. That doesn't mean it was easy. Freedom comes with the burden of responsibility, and his decision to join the Scouts isn't framed as triumphant or inspiring but instead as terrifying and traumatic. But that's another aspect of real life I think is captured by Jean's character: the decision to become a better person is not always easy, and it often requires a continual and conscious effort to push comfort zones, overcome bad habits, and step into the terrifying unknown, but you still have to do it.

While Jean does change for the better because of this decision (a change even his fellow cadets take notice of), his battle to grow as a person is never over. When faced with life-or-death situations as a Scout, he overcomes his cowardice to leap into action and save others whenever he knows he can. When faced with the selfishness of the Military Police, he is reassured by the knowledge that his decision not to join them saved him from that ignorant mindset. When faced with the consequences of "the greater good," he questions what it means for humanity if serving a grand purpose means they should turn a blind eye to the innocent. When faced with the prospect of having to kill other humans, he grapples with the morality of murder and what it means if he can't pull the trigger to save his friends. When faced with the crowning of Historia, he voices his concern against authority that they're forcing her into another role after she had just fought to reclaim her own identity from her father. When faced with the temptation to regress, ignore genocide, and settle for the easy life he always wanted in his youth, he resists the urge to fall back onto his dream and continues fighting even when it's the hardest thing he could ever do. When faced with the revelation that Reiner killed his friend Marco, he briefly gives into his resentment and anger but later works past it and admits there are more similarities between them than there are differences. When faced with no other choice but to stop the Rumbling, he's the first to bring Mikasa to the painful but necessary realization that they must kill their friend Eren in order to save countless innocent lives, as much as he doesn't want to do that.

Over and over again, Jean is presented with a moral dilemma, and over and over again, Jean chooses to come out of it as a better person despite it all. Because he achieved the freedom to choose who he wants to be so early in the story, the rest of his arc is a revelation that such freedom comes with constant and painful doubt. Yet, Jean never shies away from exploring the moral ambiguity of his world and the actions it makes him take. Because he is perceptive and honest, he's quick to question everything that is presented to him and never takes any one person's perspective as the only undeniable truth. Questioning life at every turn isn't easy either; it takes effort and courage and vigilance, and even when that way of life wears away at Jean, he does it anyway. If he doesn't, he'll end up just like the pitiful and ignorant Military Police he could have easily become. To me, that arc is so much more relatable than any other arc presented in this story. This is the very real struggle of a regular guy navigating a complicated world of war, eugenics, nationalism, and genocide, and is just trying to make it out as a decent person in the middle of it all. Really, isn't that all any of us are?

I think it's also telling that Floch tempts Jean to join the Yeagerists not with the argument that Eren and his plan for genocide is right, because deep down I think he knows Jean would have never agreed with that. Instead, he tempts him with the promise of comfort and a life free of resistance. I think that's the most revealing truth of all: Jean, the representation of humanity and its struggle with its own morality would never have gone along with genocide just for the sake of it. I think most people are too decent to think genocide is in any way justified when it's framed that way. Instead, Jean is only tempted by how the decision to join the Yeagerists and turn a blind eye would affect him and his own life, reframing the problem as a self-preserving one and retroactively justifying the Rumbling not as what is right but as what is futile for any one person to try to stop. That, I think, reflects the true struggle of humanity, the struggle to sacrifice your own self-interest whenever it conflicts with the need to help others.

While other characters like Mikasa, Eren, and Armin are more or less the same character at the end of the story as they are in the beginning, Jean is in a perpetual state of change, which means he also acts as a terrific mirror and foil for so many characters throughout the story depending on what stage of character development he's in. He starts as a foil to Eren, someone who harbors just as much hot-headed ego as Jean, but unlike Jean has all the conviction to back it up. As Jean grows, he continues to foil Eren by proving conviction can not only be gained but can be reigned in and redirected to be used as a force to do good instead of a force for destructive revenge. He then mirrors Armin, a character who is just as thoughtful and questioning as Jean but isn't as weighed down by selfish desires, but neither does that give much weight to Armin's moral dilemmas when he chooses to do the less moral thing than Jean does in his shoes. Jean and Armin eventually learn to work together, combining their respective strengths and weaknesses to become effective leaders in tandem. Interestingly, I learned that Armin and Jean were originally written to be the same character but were separated to reflect two different sides of humanity, perhaps to illustrate humanity's desire to reach outside the walls through Armin and humanity's struggle to resist the comfort of the walls through Jean. While I think that it was a good decision to separate them in the end, I also think that it robbed Armin of Jean's character development and robbed Jean of Armin's plot relevance. Then, of course, there's Jean's mirror for Floch, but I already touched on that in Floch's character summary so I won't retread it here.

But perhaps my favorite foil of Jean's is Reiner. More than Eren or Armin, Jean is inherently connected to Reiner through the death of Marco. While Reiner is positioned in Season 4 to also be a mirror for Eren, I think Reiner's similar loss of his friend Marcel (a friend who, unlike what Marco did for Jean, did the opposite of inspire Reiner by admitting that Reiner was never actually good enough for the role he got and only earned it by Marcel's intervention to protect his brother) positions Reiner as a more apt foil to Jean instead. Reiner is sent on a trajectory where he only clings harder to his dreams of becoming a hero for Marley, winning the affection of his mother and father, and proving himself worthy of his role, never willing to let those dreams go in the face of Marcel's death unlike Jean had done after losing Marco. Because he clings to this dream so dearly, he kills many innocent people to achieve it, again displaying the polar opposite mindset of Jean who fights instead to save innocent lives. But Reiner isn't without a heart, and eventually, the weight of his sins burdens him. How does he deal with it? Not by questioning or confronting reality like Jean does, but by compartmentalizing himself and rationalizing his actions through the use of multiple personas, essentially denying responsibility for his sins and avoiding the painful self-reflection he must undergo to accept accountability for what he's done.

Reiner is only able to truly self-reflect when he returns to Marley, where the reconciliation of who he is catches up with him and drives him to become suicidal, but neither is he deluded by the dream he once clung to anymore. Now that he's accepted responsibility, he joins up with Jean's group, admits he killed Marco, and accepts the brutal punishment Jean has for him. It's only after this moment that Jean makes the realization that they're the same because they are now. They've both undergone a change and while it took them in many different directions, in the end, they've come to the same point; despite their respective sins or lack thereof, they're both fighting to become better people than who they once were. And in the finale, it is Jean who reassures Reiner that he is and will always be a Scout because he's fighting to save humanity, just like they had sworn to do as youths. Jean never forgot what it was they were fighting for, and because of that, I think Jean earns his place as the true moral compass of the series.

Wow, this really got away from me; Do you love the color of the Attack on Titan thoughts post? Anyways, if you managed to read all of this, I'm flattered you stuck around to entertain all my ramblings on a series that is basically over after a decade-long run that I was too late to jump on. With all my thoughts out of the way, I'm going to go reblog some Jean posts now, because he's the best character and no, you can't change my mind.

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

[evilminji]

Can You "Accidental Baby Acquisition" Yourself?

Like? Say you have a You... who is NOT You, obviously, but A You in the Multiversal sense... and their childhood suuuuuucked. Just? Truely awful for reasons beyond their control.

Such as the veil NOT being so easily peirced in their reality and humanity a bit more... Reactive(tm) to ectoplasm, due to the lower concentration of it in the Everything of their Universe. Which makes their parents research? Unattainable. Dangerous.

Ultimately fatal to their elder sister.

And then later, them.

Not that they were even the loving if wildly eccentric parents most of the other You's KNOW and have. Due to that very say research and their long-term exposure to their own samples. The Reactivity.

"Pit Rage" as some circles call it.

They weren't themselves. Stopped BEING themselves long before their children ever came into the picture. If they could think clearly, they would BEG for someone to save their children. From them. From their house of horrors. From what they've become.

And well? You exsist outside of Time. In the Zone. Maybe you have a wide and crazy adventure with this grizzled, worn, badass of a You. Figure he's pretty cool. Ask if he needs anything. And he laughs this broken glass in your chest sort of sound and says:

"Not unless you could give me a real childhood."

Like? Dude. Buddy. My buddy dude. Gonna have to explain that one. You can't just drop that and walk away. We Crazy Action Bros Adventure(tm) bonded. You can tell me. And reluctantly... he kinda does.

And... Look. You exsist outside of TIME. Your mentor IS Time. You can TOTALLY do that.

This.

But like? You realize... there wouldn't be TWO of you... right? If you take mini-Bamf out of the timestream at point A... you, big guy, stop existing at every instance of point B and onwards.

Yeah. Yeah, he gets that. Fully consents. His life was full of bad decisions and dramatic bullshit. He wants a real childhood. His sister back. Wants them BOTH out of that house and somewhere safe. If he could do it himself, he would. Call it his fucked up way of healing. Finally facing his trauma. It's haunted him long enough.

.....well then. Now You've got a baby and a fussy toddler. They have superpowers because of course they do. That house was OSHAs waking nightmares and deepest fever dreams. Jazzypants is hungy. And baby You did a stinky.

This is Fine(tm).

You're a King! You can TOTALLY handle this! Teeeeeemporarily. Since it's not like they can stay HERE. The Zone is literally uninhabitable long term for the living. So time to fire up the ol Brain Meats. Gremlin Ideas formulating. Loading... Loading... Loooooooading. Got it!

You kidnapped them.

Brilliant! FRIGHTY! Where's the Trenchcoat Booze Slu-...SLUHeuth. Sleuth! Totally what I was planning to say, Starshines! Don't curse. Cursing Bad~☆

The Detective Of Loose Morales in The Trenchcoat, who's Soul I Own, Frighty! Where's he at?? *Distant muffled answer* Close enough! Time to give him a heart attack! And throw a fight! Can you toss me a nightmare medallion? I need to instill mortal terror! Thaaaanks, Frighty! Also can you change diapers? *affirmative noises* Ancients, you're the best.

Smash cut to John Constantine. Busting up some cult, as you do. When? Oh fuck. The leaders heading for the store room! Not today, fucker! They fight. They struggle. It's Manly and Gritty and dramatic! When?

A terrible CRASH. Some artifact must have activated. What... have you DONE? *dramatic musical sting* swirling green and DEATH radiates out from a pin prick of nothing. A black hole in reverse. The cold oblivion of space, given bones to claw its way free. Eyes that sear in colors too technicolor and hypersaturated to be mortal. Green. Green! GREEN.

Ice and stars and death and a terrible, unspeakable Crown.

Two... two little sprogs. Tiny bits of nothing in a monsters hand. KIDS, wrapped up in something they never should of even had to nightmare about. John's eyes catch on red, red hair. A tiny little headband with butterflies on it. Pressed so close to dark locks, as she wraps herself around her little bits of a sibling.

The other ones dressed up in stars.

Someone SOLD their fuckin KIDS. Or this damned this STOLE them. It doesn't matter. Not now, not to John. Because this bastard isn't keeping them. He slides like breathing into the waves of luck and chance, odds and fate. Is on his feet and drawing attention. Whatever it takes, he's leaving here with those kids.

He laughs and it's not a kind one.

"Oi! A word if you will?"

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @ailithnight

[scoops-aboy86]

If You Were Serious (Secret Admirer pt 7)

Okay, so there will be more than seven chapters. For now, please enjoy Steve on painkillers and creative mix tape shenanigans.

(The crossed out thing after the first "Dear" is the first line of an E.)

wc: 3226 / rated: T / set end of/after season 3 / also on ao3

Dear I

Dear Secret Amdirer,

Sorry, painkillers kicking in. I got pretty banged up in the mall, in the fire. Well, less the fire and more getting hit by stuff. Mall fell down. I have ribs and eye and nose, and concussion this time so I had to stay over at Robin’s because someone had to keep an eye on me sleeping and my parents are still out of town. Dustin said I won at upper body injury bingo but I didn’t even know I was playing, that sounds like really a shitty game. 

Anyway, I haven’t been home so I don’t know if you tried to call. If you did, don’t worry!!! I’m not mad. I don’t not like you anymore just because you’re you. And this isn’t the durg drugs talking because I read your letter first before they kicked in, but I have to write this ASAP so it can get to you faster. 

You could’ve called back that night but if you needed some time to breathe I get it, it’s cool. And I kinda had a feeling after that you might be a guy? Like, shit, man, they’d eat you alive in this town. Not me, I learned my lesson after Jonathan wrecked my face after I called him and his family some bad things. I deserved that. Kinda funny how the next year he stole my girlfriend and now I like you. If you could still be interested in somebody who used to be like that. 

I know I like you because when you hung up I was really worried, you sounded like you were breathing really fast, maybe a panic attack? I have those after nightmares now. Robin too. (Don’t worry, we bonded and she’s like my sister now, she says we’re playdoh soulmates

“Oh my god, I knew explaining who Plato was was a bad idea. It’s platonic, Steve, not Play-Doh.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder! … How do you spell that?”

“P-L-A-T-O-N-I-C.”

“Thanks Robbie.”

she says we’re playdoh soulmates platonic soulmates.) I was worried about you and thought maybe you might be a guy but, that wasn’t as important as wanting you to be okay, you know? You still wrote me all those nice letters. You’ve made me feel really good about myself, why does it have to be different just because you’re not a girl? I can’t tell you why Robin knows about this stuff but she says I might be bysix bisexual. Not sure why I need a big fancy word for it when I didn’t have one for liking girls, I just know I care about you a lot and want you to like me. 

And you’re not a coward, you’re very very brave. You reached out first, you went for what you wanted even when I didn’t get it and tried to ask for too much too soon. And then you kept coming back to try again, even though I kept doing that. That’s so brave. 

I’m not feeling so awake anymore so I’m going to stop and have Robin mail this for me. (No way am I going out dressed like this. Her dad wears grandpa shorts dude, it’s pretty bad.) I’ll write more when I’m feeling better. Are you okay? Hope you weren’t anywhere near the mall the other night. Thanks for the rainbow song I will look for it.

Love Steve 

~

Once Eddie is done reading, he screams into his pillow for a different reason. Several, actually. 

First, he’s been so sure for the past week or so that he would never hear from Steve ever again. The only reason he’d checked his mail today was because he should have another zine coming in soon. He didn’t, but there was a yellow envelope with familiar, if slightly messier than usual handwriting on it. And inside that, stationary with colorful geometric shapes along the edges that Eddie now surmises is Robin’s. 

Second, Steve isn’t even writing to tell him to fuck off right to hell. Because yes, Eddie had heard the rumors about Steve calling Jonathan Byers a queer. The irony does send a seam of semi-hysterical laughter through his screams. It’s fine. It’s fine!

Third, Steve hasn’t been avoiding his calls. He just hasn’t been home. He’s hurt, and it sounds like his head and torso took quite a beating. Eddie remembers seeing him around school both times after the other concussions and that had looked bad enough, and that had just been his face. This sounds worse. 

Fourth, Steve is… still interested? Has talked to someone about this and might be bisexual?! Eddie’s never had anyone talk to someone else about him, has always been completely anonymous with a possible option of becoming a dirty little secret. And then the letter ends with ‘Love Steve.’ Love? Love Steve?!

Fifth, Robin knows he sent Steve that ice cream. Eddie doesn’t know what all “platonic soulmates” entails, but what if she tells him? What if she already has?!

Sixth, despite being injured, and having panic attacks apparently, Steve is still asking if he is okay. 

Seventh, beneath his name Steve had also doodled a lopsided happy face with what he can only guess is an ice pack balanced on top. Or… maybe it’s hair. Or some kind of hat. 

Any of these would be enough to make his head spin on their own, but it’s all happening at once and he doesn’t know what to do. So he screams into his pillow for a while longer, kicking his feet for good measure. 

He wants to rush out and find Steve, wherever he is. Wants to call him, but doesn’t know what he would say even if he did know the number to reach him right now. What he could say. Wants to wrap both arms around him and kiss his poor head better. Hell, if he’s turned Steve gay he doesn’t just want, he deserves to make that guy the little spoon for the first time in his life probably and just. Hold him. 

Except… he’s not sure he’s ready for face to face yet. He will be! Soon. Once all the emotions bubbling in his chest have settled a little. And after he’s pinched himself a few million more times just to make sure. But until then…

A thought occurs to him, and Eddie rolls over to frown consideringly up at the ceiling. He’s sent Steve words to comfort and reassure him before, right? Maybe there’s something else he can send, a different way of offering a part of himself to Steve until he works up the nerve to face him for real. 

It’s just going to take him a little time, and some recording equipment. 

~

Dearest Steve,

I hope this address is still okay to write to you while you stay with your friend, but I don’t know where she lives. 

You have no idea 

Holy shit man. Holy shit. Are you serious? No, strike that, you’ve been nothing but genuine in these letters and I trust you, I do. Holy shit though. It’s you. Clearly I never thought I’d actually have a chance, from the way I approached this whole thing, so you must forgive me for how utterly poleaxed, completely flabbergasted, and genuinely gobsmacked I am. 

And shit, I’m still sorry for hanging up on you. That golden years line—and this heavy secret of the most basic fact of who I am weighing on my shoulders, pressing down so hard I couldn’t breathe. I wish I’d just said something. But you’re right, I needed… space? And a push, to work up to writing the last letter I sent you. I got yours the day I put that in the mail, by the way, and that spun me even more because what if you read mine and took it all back?

But you didn’t. You didn’t, sweetheart. I’m still reeling in the best possible way. Again, axed like a pole, flabbers gasted, and gob thoroughly smacked.

Enough about me. More than enough about me. You’re concussed; I ought to wrap that gorgeous head of yours in bubble wrap and offer to fight all your battles henceforth, even against falling buildings. I’m glad you have someone out there who’s looking out for you though. I guess… you’ve told Robin about some things? Maybe these letters? Which is absolutely fine, by the way. It’s great! Fuck knows it wouldn’t have occurred to me to explain what bisexuality is, since I hardly dared to dream so big and only swing the one way myself. You’re an amazingly open-minded person by the way, Steve; I hope you know how rare that is, especially in a place like Hawkins. And Robin too, apparently. Please give her my highest regards, she is an angel among mortals and an inadvertent champion of this sad wet rag of a human being (me). 

At any rate, wishing you the speediest of recoveries and I hope you’re already feeling at least a little better. My condolences on the grandpa shorts, although personally I’m convinced you could wear a trash bag and still look like an Adonis. 

It’s taken me a little longer than I’d like to send this because I made something for you. Enclosed is a tape with some of the songs from our call that you said you liked, played acoustically by yours truly. Rainbow In The Dark is one of them. You mentioned having nightmares, and whenever I had bad dreams as a kid my mom would play for me until I calmed down. She’d hum instead of doing the words, to make it more like a lullaby. I hope it’s at least a decent distraction, sweetheart. 

Let me know if you like it? I can make one of your favorite songs too, just you let me know what they are. In the meantime, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

~

“You should tell him that you know,” Robin whispers, at some point during the fourth night in a row they’ve ended up crashed on the same bed listening to the Anti-Panic Attack Metal Mix. 

Her dad sleeps like the dead and her mom sleeps with earplugs in because he snores, so they get away with it, but Steve always insists on laying on top of the covers anyway. The friendship is still new, for all that they’re trauma bonded, and he wants to make sure she knows he’s not getting any funny ideas, that he gets the whole lesbian thing, that even though he’s new to being into a dude he’s committed to it and not wishy-washy or greedy or whatever.

He fiddles with a loose string on the blanket for a minute before answering. “No… I don’t want to freak him out again. It’s all going to be on his terms from here on out, no more pushing.”

“Well you’ve got to do something. Come on Steve, I’m invested now. Ask to meet him.”

He rolls his eyes. “What did I just say?” 

Immediately he gives an inward wince, because that came out bitchy. But Robin just snorts and murmurs “Fine,” sounding amused rather than offended, so he relaxes. 

They exist in silence for a while, side by side. Just close enough to not feel alone, drifting on the soft notes and low, rich hum. It’s soothing. 

“What if,” Robin starts, and ignores Steve’s huff. “What if you go somewhere you know he might show, and then give him the opportunity to talk to you?”

“Oh yeah,” he scoffs, “like what?”

“Summer house party.” Her whisper picks up a little in excitement as she warms to her own idea. “I bet we can find one that’s coming up soon. Everyone knows that Munson sells, it’s one of those never invited but always welcome things. Then if he doesn’t come to you, just buy some weed and see if he says anything.”

“No,” Steve whispers back. 

She rolls over to squint at him in the dark. “Just think about it, okay? You wouldn’t be forcing him to do anything, just… providing an opportunity. Come on, Stevie-evie, this is my chance to see a gay love story go right.”

“Vetoing that nickname.” With a sigh, he rolls onto his side too, facing her. “My face still looks like raw hamburger meat, Robs. I have like zero charm right now.”

The swelling has gone down, at least to where he can open his eye again but the bruising remains spectacular. It looks like a sunset exploded across the side of his face, and not in a good way. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re more than just your face, dingus. It wasn’t your rugged jawline, sculpted cheekbones, or pimple-free forehead that wrote those letters, it was you. Steve.”

He goes to wrinkle his nose at the descriptions, but quickly remembers that’s still a bad idea with a swallowed grunt. “Please, never describe me again.”

“I make no promises. And anyway, if you’re willing to try makeup I think we could get most of it covered so no one’ll ever notice. Not at night, anyway.”

That gives him pause. He rolls onto his back again to think about it, staring up at the ceiling of Robin’s bedroom and tracing imaginary constellation lines between the glow in the dark stars she has up there. Beside him, he feels her settling on her back too without having to look. 

It’s not like when he’d found a little brother in Dustin—who has visited pretty much every day during Steve’s convalescence, sometimes with Erica or Mike, Lucas, and Max in tow, spouting off things he’s read in books about the various still-healing injuries. As annoying as it is, Steve appreciates that the little dork took the time to study what’s wrong with him enough to provide armchair diagnoses and give him advice about things that he already knows. 

Robin is… more of a twin than a sister. (Which, yeah, twin sister, whatever. That’s not the point.) They’re on the same wavelength in a way he’s never experienced before, not with Tommy or Carol or even Nancy. The closest thing Steve has ever had to this was during basketball games, in the heat of a play where everyone on the team knew where everyone was and where they’d be and how to work together as a unit, perfectly in sync. Only with Robin, it’s all the time. Sometimes they can even finish each other’s sentences—though they try not to do that around her parents, in the interest of not wanting them to think they’re a couple. 

They’re more like a pair of bonded kittens at the pound, Robin says. Must be adopted together. (“Okay, but why can’t we be dogs? Dogs are cooler.” “Because, dingus, you have a one-hundred-and-twenty-seven step hair and skin routine and you’re incredibly aloof when you want to be. I could go either way, but you’re one hundred percent cat.”)

“Maybe,” he whispers finally. 

He’s not sure she’s still awake—he’s not sure he’s still awake, with the soothing music lulling him back to a calm he hadn’t felt even before he’d gone to bed the first time. But he wants to think she hears it, just like he wants to think that he’ll run into Eddie and find out what it’s like to hold his hand, maybe even kiss him, all in the same night. He’s worn lip gloss, he can deal with a little makeup. 

“Maybe I’ll go.”

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Thank you for the tape, it’s perfect. It helps me get back to sleep because it feels like you’re there, watching over me. Like nothing bad can happen. Sometimes the nightmares still come back after but I think it’s getting better. It takes a while, you know? Last time, after the after Billy after my last concussion it took a while to stop having bad dreams. I guess the mind needs time to heal too, even if the stuff that happens to it isn’t as “real” as breaking a nose or a rib. Who knew?

I really am serious, yeah. Even though I’m me. Whatever that means. I don’t really know what to do with myself or what I want right now. (Except you. Kind of cheesy, but maybe you like that about me? I guess it’s something I always tried to hide before because the guys would’ve made fun of me, fuck knows Tommy did all of junior year, but I kind of like the idea that maybe you saw it anyway.) Once my face heals up me and Robin are going to try and get jobs together somewhere else because we’re cats that have to stick together or we’ll get stressed out and claw all the furniture. Other than that I don’t know what I want to do except leave Hawkins someday. But stick around to make sure it’s to see the kids graduate. Dustin’s starting high school in the fall, maybe you could keep an eye out for him? Curly hair, no collarbones, ego bigger than the whole state, total nerd but in a good way, even if he’s sometimes a butthead about it. He plays that game with dragons and those weird looking dice, do you know it? Him and his friends Mike and Lucas are kind of bully magnets. (Max is starting freshman year too but she can take care of herself in that department.) They’ve all been pretty down after the mall and with Will and moving away and everything. Erica, Lucas’ little sister, I guess I’m her “babysitter” now too, is still in middle school but I don’t know if she’d be glad or insulted if I waited around to see her graduate. She can take care of herself too. She and Dustin were with us for most of the Starcourt burning down and it was a lot, but kids are resilient. I don’t think she gets nightmares, not that she would ever admit to anyone if she did even though in her own words “we’ve bled together.” She’s getting into the nerdy dice game too and is planning her campaign for President of the USA as soon as she turns, what, 40? 50? Whatever age you have to be before you can do that. I’ll probably still be in a town like Hawkins with another lame retail job by then, but she’s got my vote. She’d do a hell of a lot better job than Regan, that’s for sure. 

Is your mom My mom never sang to

Also, you are really good at guitar, man. I still think about your hands, I bet you have long fingers. Really… What’s a word for ‘good with his fingers’? I think about that sometimes. I don’t really know what kind of stuff two guys can do together except the obvious but I think about that a lot. I want you to play me like your guitar. I’d let you fight my battles too, at least until my ribs get back to normal and then we can both fight both of our battles. You know I’d do that for you, right? If you ever need me. I really like these letters. I really like you.

Love, Steve

P.S. If you were serious about making me another tape (which you really don’t have to, this was already going above and beyond), my favorite songs are…

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16

@bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

[zmbiesuga]

MY FAV HQ BOYS BEING . . . in love w/ you !

various hq boys x m!reader (includes sugawara, iwaizumi, sakusa, bokuto & ushijima), established relationship, reader uses he/him pronouns, post-timeskip implications

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, the hq boys being absolutely head-over-heels for you, use of pet names, reader gets called 'handsome' (sakusa), reader gets called 'pretty boy' (sugawara), a tad suggestive in iwa's but nothing too serious, reader gets his nails painted & called gorgeous (bokuto)

notes: thinkin' about the boys being so deep in love with someone it makes them sick to even be that head-over-heels, sighs

SUGAWARA who can't help but stare at your sleeping figure, admiring the way the light of passing cars illuminates your face. gently, he traces the side of your face with his pointer finger. god, he can't believe he got so lucky. you're the prettiest boy he's ever laid his eyes on, and even better, you're his pretty boy. he sighs contently one more time, pulling you closer to his chest before drifting off to sleep himself.

IWAIZUMI who presses open mouth kisses on your collarbone, sloppily moving his way up your neck in the heat of the moment. hushed "i love you's" falling from his lips as you grip his hair. he makes his way to your jawline, when he pulls back to admire your face. your flush expression and red lips from the intense makout session from only moments before. he smiles to himself, the thought alone that you're all his makes his chest tighten with adoration, before he continues his attack, littering kisses on the rest of your face.

SAKUSA who's normally not too adamant on being less than at least a foot away from someone, being held tightly in your arms as you two watch some random sitcom on t.v. the show soon becomes a blur to kiyoomi as he turns his attention to look upwards at you. god. before he can even think, a simple praise falls from his lips. "you're so handsome, (y/n)." he states, before turning his attention back to whatever was playing on the t.v. he smirks as you're left speechless by his sudden act of affection.

BOKUTO who can't stop giggling as he puts the colorful polish on your fingers. he hasn't painted anyone's nails except his sisters when he was in middle school, and the fact that his oh-so-gorgeous boyfriend had even asked him to do it made him so elated. you'd orignally asked him to be careful, but decided to just let him be. he was having so much fun, you couldn't diminish that. even if most of the polish was ending up on your skin.

USHIJIMA who is so clingy, you don't even recognize the person he is on the court. he always, always, always has to be touching you in some way. whether it be wrapping his large arms around you while you cook dinner, wrapping his arm around your shoulders on the couch while watching a movie or holding your hands tightly in his on just a casual stroll down the sidewalk. being able to touch you reminds him that you're real, and that you're his forever.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FINCH'S FRENZY (IV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER V ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, guns & shootings, canon typical, death, vulgar language, gore, arguments, self-destructive behavior, PTSD, fluff at the end? Maybe?

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

Vividly, you remember the first time your father brought you into the Museum. You’d only been little, then, no more than ten but old enough to form lasting memories that would stick with you. Key moments in the spanning woven tapestry that grew and spread like roots with colors named ‘Happy’ and ‘Sad.’ A memory bank of images that never leave the screen behind your eyes. 

The statue had only been there because of the fire. 

Made by men’s hands, it really wasn't the responsibility of a Museum of Natural History, but this was a special case. The other, sister, building to this one was far off into the city and had been completely ablaze not a week prior by unknown circumstances. Your father’s friend had burned, along with many priceless artifacts that were housed there. But not this. 

The stone statue of the woman. Only here because it needed a place to rest before being sent out of state to a more… appropriate facility. They had flocked to her—marble scorched and covered in ash. Yet beautiful. Heavenly. Long arms reach up, a tiny bird held in the clutch of her stiff hands, presenting it to a far-off sky.

Cameras flash and eyes water.

“They’re calling her dīvīnā, Little One.” You had looked up at him, clutching onto your father’s shirt sleeve in wide innocence. He smiles softly.

“Di–” Your lips sputter and face heats, “Di-ven-a?” A small chuckle makes you huff, your expression souring. The man kneeled down, gripping under your pudgy chin and teasing.

“Not quite. Dee-veen-uh.” 

“What does that mean?” You stubbornly shake your head, confused, “why are they calling her that?” A kiss is planted on the top of your head, your father standing back up and laughing, as you once more look at the statue with wonder. Your eyes glitter.

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

To be loved like a woman in stone was a rare thing. 

You’re not quite sure why you remember that when you turn a swift corner, slamming a shoulder into it as bitter tears track your cheeks. The bloody hand that steadies you leaves a trail of crimson behind as evidence. You don’t slow, not even when Gaz’s hat threatens to fly off your head at the break-neck pace you set yourself on.

“The park,” you breathe raggedly, frantic slams of your shoes bouncing off the corralling buildings at your side as you dart out of the tree line and into the city streets. If you had been focusing, you’d realize you have no idea where you are; utterly alone while the violent sounds of firing guns and screams continue to bounce off airwaves. Too close. Too loud. “Oh, God, the people.” 

Cold couldn’t begin to describe your temperature. Frigid perhaps; shaking with frozen terror that makes you lose feeling in your limbs. Buggy eyes snap to shadows and trash in the alleyway like they were grabbing at you with phantom intentions. 

You don’t know when you lost Kyle—when you’d taken a turn too fast and completely disappeared or something else along those lines. But in your chest, your stiff ribs almost welcomed the solitude. You had looked into his eyes. Stifling a loud sob, you increase the pace as the screams behind you loom over your head like a cloud. 

Amber. Meadows. Deathly serious.

“No, no, no…” How had the attackers known you’d be out in the city? On campus? That white Sudan…How? 

You miss the rapid calls of your name in the background, equally as desperate as your instincts. Loud and distinctly British. Separated by stone and mirky puddles. You increase your velocity; moving farther and farther away. Run, you just need to run. From everything. From everyone. 

But when you rush one last corner, the large form that stands there isn’t a made-up phantom of the past. It isn’t a statue.

Skirting to an immediate stop, your legs quiver from the force and the dragging of your heels; your fingertips wrenching into your aggravated injury in retaliation. Gasping, your leaking eyes widen even farther at the covered face. The few feet of precious separation from the man that also surprised at the sudden arrival. 

A dead second of slow-motion thoughts and nothingness that seems like a year ensues. Not a single atom bounces. Had he been waiting for you?

You slowly look down with white eyes to notice the assault rifle in his shifting hands; the nervousness of hips as they rotate weight into a form that would remind you of a football player if you bothered to engage with that thought. The air is stuck in your nose. Blood pressurizes itself forward. You swallow tersely, one shoe shifting to take a step back carefully. No words, no exchange of sentiments. 

Only a target and a man holding a gun. 

“I…” You trail, lips not responding as the rabid pulse in your ears threatens to drown you with blackness. At the click of a safety, you’re running like a rabbit again, darting back down the same way you came as bullets explode through the corner you rampage past. 

“Gaz!” The call bounces to the sky, ringing off buildings. Was it possible to die from adrenaline? Everything burns a bright shade of red in the corner of your vision. Shouts ring from behind, a race of scarlet and duty now taking place with feral implications. 

This was what being prey felt like, and you had thought you'd only have to experience that feeling once. 

“Gaz!” You scream again, ripping vocal cords, and ducking as a round goes directly above your head, slapping your hands to the cap with gasping fear. How many were out there? Had they set a perimeter if you decided to run? 

This was a level of professionalism you never expected from terrorists. 

Sprinting past an open turn, a hand snags out, jerking you by the jacket collar as a second covers your mouth. Screaming, you bite down as your heart stops, mercilessly slashing out an elbow into hardened ribs. A sharp hiss meets your ear before the shadows of the inside of a doorway overhang swallow you. 

Your back is slammed into the barrier, breath on your forehead as your hand snaps to the pen knife in your pocket like a whip. The shock of electricity down your spine is inconsequential to the hand that flies over your mouth. It tightens before your eyes can adjust properly through the tears; fingers flinching fast past layers of cotton canvas. 

Lips dance over the shell of your ear. “Stop moving.” 

The struggling of your limbs halts, eyebrows slightly losing the agonized furrow. Heat wafts from the body pressed into your own—great bouts of natural warmth that you hadn’t felt in years from another human being. Your heart skips for it; muscles lessen. 

Goosebumps raise the hair on the back of your neck.

You blink rapidly, staring into the nose of Sergeant Garrick with a shuttering inhale behind his grip. Sensing your slowing pulse, his hand lowers, moving back immediately. Long fingers find his lips, signifying silence with nothing more than a tap and a frown. There’s still blood over his visage, splattering up his stubble and along his cheeks like paint as his jaw clenches with meaning. 

Wheezing, you shake with both fear and a sliver of ease even as your back aches from the force that the Brit had exerted to drag you back. You swallow down saliva and nod a number of times; completely out of it. 

You’re moved behind him with a firm push—a part of you flinches at the sudden chill that overtakes you once more—as the yelling gets closer from beyond your hidey-hole, a bulky thumping over the concrete ground like hail. You stare at Gaz’s neck as he grabs the pistol from his belt, leaning on the part of the wall that juts out with a single shoulder and barely peeking out. 

He blinks slowly, not even looking at you as his lips thin. He looks merciless and loose at the same time.

The man sprints past, barely making it a few feet from where you watch with stilled breath before Kyle separates from the wall. One shot is all it takes, and the stranger doesn’t even scream before he hits the ground; a last round being driven between his skull plates to silence any sound. 

It all falls silent after the reverberations cease—gunpowder in your nose and burning your throat. But it doesn’t even matter, because you’re already being forced along with a heavy hand on your shoulder before the blood can pool over the ground.

“C’mon.” He speaks blankly, whatever sly teasing and amusement from earlier today completely gone. “Exfil point is a block away—we need to move.”

You can’t do much more than follow, your head screaming at you. 

“B-but what about…” Wanting to ask about the people who are back in the park, not quite understanding the horror yet. 

Sensing this, Kyle knows it’s better to respond briefly. 

“They’re dead.” You flinch at the truth, hearing the bitter reality settle in coupled with the man’s bluntness. Gaz sends a side-eye your way, looking down at you from his lashes. 

While not willing to offer any comfort at the moment, he twitches his nose and simply states, “You need to stay focused,” while noticing the far-off look in your eyes; the rapid pulse under his grip. 

Humming under his breath, he leads you on ever faster, knowledgeable of the quickly dwindling bullets in his mag. As you both speed walk, he speaks through his earpiece, telling Kit the streets before the far-away man replies with the correct route to the Exfil point. 

“How’s the VIP?” Kit asks, and Kyle grunts, not giving anything more than a quick response.

“Alive. We’re nearly there.” He inhales slowly. “Multiple civilians down in the park.” 

“Copy, 2-6. Keep en route.” Gaz scoffs under his breath, surveying his surroundings as the wails of sirens fly over buildings. This never should have happened.

This brought him back to Piccadilly Circus; the start of his entire counter with 141 and subsequent approval into their ranks. He’d seen many things over the course of his deployments to the Middle East—when he’d put a target on his back when disrupting Opium supply lines. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with his comrades. 

Not with a girl that seems to want to put herself in every dangerous situation known to man.

Even with all the mental strain and uncomfortable scenarios he’d been in…watching innocent people die never got any easier. 

He moves you along; muscles wound and gun in a tight grip. Gaz tries to tell himself that you couldn’t have possibly imagined this happening and with how you were acting that would be the truth with no doubt. He’d told you, though, hadn’t he? That’s what really gets his jaw stiff.

I told her. And she didn’t listen. Didn’t even try to think it over.

You shake under his grip, and a part of him feels pity, honestly, but right now the severity of the situation is more important. 

“Take a left,” he utters, forcing you on with hardened brown eyes. You nod again, throat closed so tight you’re unsure if speaking is the right decision. 

Everything is a mixture of hot and cold—fingers burning yet arms shaking from a lack of heat; teeth chattering. 

The both of you were close now, only a few more winding turns left and the van should be waiting with the driver; authorities taking care of the shooters left in the park still searching for you. But these alleyways were like a rat’s maze. 

“Keep close,” Kyle offers, “We don’t know who else is—”

“Right!” Your yell makes him turn sharply, knife barely grazing the flesh of his neck as he weaves. Brown eyes flair with anger, gun in his grip just as easily coming up to the armed assailant. 

The covered face held no weapon besides a combat knife; another person intent on taking your life. How many were out here?

“What in the…?” Gaz grunts, but before he can bring the pistol up to pull the trigger, the man’s other hand is grabbing his wrist, twisting it to the side mercilessly and away. 

The Brit hisses, throwing out his other arm to block the knife from once more coming down to settle in his neck. These people were many in number, but how was it that they were so rusty? Anyone with combat sense knew it was best to go low before going high when attacking with a knife. Before he can swipe the Bastard’s legs out from under him, locked in that familiar battle of wills, Gaz hopes in his head you don’t run off again. 

Starting to gain the upper hand with gritted teeth and sparking eyes, there’s a swift thunking of metal meeting flesh moments later. Blinking wildly, Kyle’s face goes confused, slightly losing grip in that mere second of oddity. 

Then he sees it.

“Bloody Christ.” Gaz gasps, gazing at his own reflection in the hilt of a small pen knife stuck in the eye of his attacker who subsequently begins screaming wildly, trying to back up until the Sergeant shakes out of his shock. 

The gun levels with a chest, and it was done before the killer could rip the blade from his eye.

Only one bullet was fired until the small click of an empty barrel signaled that Kyle had used up his last round. The man falls into a heap and lays on the floor, a puddle of crimson leaking from his guts as he gasps and coughs. 

Breathing heavily, there’s a pause in the air. Gaz looks back at you slowly, eyes wide with astonishment. 

You stare back, right hand quivering and twice as bloody then it had been before. You had made a mirror slice on your palm by holding the blade and releasing it to hurdle forward loyally. Not that you knew that. 

No words are exchanged as the gurgling from the body falls silent, only the air speaks in brushing breezes that ruffle your jacket. 

“2-6,” Gaz’s earpiece speaks, but for a moment he’s stuck gazing into your eyes as you stare at the body, lips parted and jaw slackened. You’d just… “2-6, do you copy? Extraction is waiting for you.” 

Brown eyes snap away, feet quickly shuffling to rip your penknife out from the socket and place it in his pants pocket. Later.

“On it, Actual. Keep ‘em ready—we’re coming in hot.”

“Rog. Laswell’s been informed, expect request for a full security unit comin’ the lady’s way.” Frowning, Kyle doesn’t respond, having to physically turn your body away from the scene and move you forward. 

His X12 is slipped back into his belt, useless entirely. 

“Love,” Gaz speaks to you, trying to see if you’d respond, but your eyes stay blankly ahead; tears frozen in time on your cheeks yet the hysteria is shown in the stumbling of your legs. The racing pulse under your skin makes the Brit concerned. A stiff sigh is released before a decision is made with creased eyes.

You’re being lifted with little warning, carried into a bridal hold as if you weighed no more than a piece of paper. You gasp briefly, sense coming back in a flash of a thrown knife and a wide brown gaze. 

“H-hey!” The exclamation is met with a click of a tongue and increased footfalls, Kyle keeping you close to his chest with wind whipping past your ears. But you can’t think beyond the defining moments. The bodies in the park. The man you helped kill. Had killed. 

You force down the bile in your throat as Gaz’s warm body encompasses you. 

I didn’t…I didn’t do that, did I? You hadn’t thrown that blade. Couldn’t have. That would make you…

Your face tightens, brows creasing like tin foil. 

The van was torn open with a loud bark of ‘get us the fuck out of here,’ and a dumping of you onto the back seat only three minutes later; you didn’t have the thought capacity along that short run to tell Gaz to keep his hands off of you, or to stop sending you those glances with his hidden thoughts. All you could do was try and keep back the flooding hysteria. 

Kyle shoves himself into the car, slamming the door.

“Go!” He hits his fist on the back of the front seat and the driver peels out of the open alleyway with a screech of tires. 

Breathing heavily, you blankly look outside to watch the rushing police cars and ambulances dart past in the opposite direction. The streets were so condensed with fleeing people that they were having a hard time getting through, the flickering flashes of red and blue lights trapped behind your eyelids even as you blink and shake your vision away. 

Jesus, how many people are dead right now? How many were dying?

“Take us back to Base,” Gaz’s harsh accent drives a spike into your ribs. Focus on that. Focus on hating him. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the knife.

You force out through a shaking diaphragm. 

“Fuck no,” the air flips; driver sending a wide-eyed glance through the mirror as Kyle’s wound body stills like a flag on a stagnant day. You persuade a sneer to your lips.

Just make him angry. Make him yell at me—distract me. A vile form of self-destruction, sure, but you can’t start thinking about anything that just went down. 

You know how it would go if you had time to process. How the first year went after your father met his fate. You’d…You’d…

The Sergeant’s tone comes out in a snarl, “What’s that?” 

You’d never thought his file was true about that part. The hardheadedness and the opinionated side. When he was with you he always seemed level-headed; calm. Now though, it was like you didn’t have a grasp on his character like you thought you did. 

In the driver’s seat, Private Clancy clears his throat and grips the wheel tighter, not sure where to go.

“You heard me,” he had, Gaz’s ears had twitched at the curse—vulgar language not common from your tongue. “Fuck. No.” Eyes hard on his knee, you glare through very obvious fear. Kyle stares with venom lacing his silver tongue, lungs inflating. “I’m going home.”

“Home?” The Sergeant asks immediately, the car taking a left turn quickly. “Oh, my apologies, then,” he shakes his head, “Do you mean the exact place you’d be ambushed? Perhaps giving yourself up would be more your speed, Ma’am. Private,” Gaz glares into the rearview mirror, “Base, now.” 

“You do not get to dictate where I go, Garrick!” You scream, ripping his hat off your hair and pointing a finger with the same hand. A flash of amber replays in the back of your mind. Stop. Please, stop. “I am not going to the damn—!”

“People are dead!” Flinching, your shoulders hunch in faster than someone can blink, and brown eyes burn at you, jaw tight and teeth bared even as self-restraint tries to hold back a more poison-coated octave. The thin line between the two of you breaks. “Civilians!” You see Kyle take down a deep breath, his hands clenching. The next sentence is slow, but deep, “I don’t care what you bloody want because I’m not asking. I’m taking you in and getting a full Unit assigned.” Your heart freezes, lids going back in shock as sweat trails down your back. Gaz scoffs, turning away from you to run a hand over his hair. “Never should have agreed with Laswell and taken you on. I need to be with my team. You don’t listen!” 

Opening and closing your mouth, you stutter for an answer. 

“Take me home, Kyle,” your voice is breaking, but Gaz doesn’t even look in your direction; his lips firmly sealed as he glares at the headrest with his resting fist tapping periodically on his chin from the window-ledge. “Kyle.” 

He shakes his head to himself, and in a fit of infectious rage, you chuck his cap directly at his skull with a strong arm.

“You fucking pathetic twat! I just goddamn killed someone trying to save your useless life!” You bare your teeth and feel your throat constrict, eyes red and holding back a weeping deluge. Kyle growls under his breath as the hard brim slaps his temple, snatching it back mid-air. But his snapping reply stills on his lips when he meets your gaze head-on. His breath halts for a brief moment, recognizing the dwindling sense of control. Your words give him pause, and he doesn’t think you realize you’re looking into his eyes again as you rage. “I should have let the bastard tear your throat open—at least he’d be getting to do what I’ve always wanted since the moment you put a fucking gun to my head! For leaving my family a mess of blood and pain! Do…do you expect me to be thankful? For what?! All of this is your fault! Don’t you dare try and put the blame on me.” 

You’re sobbing, and the Sergeant watches silently, lips slightly parted as the driver gets more and more anxious. The car sputters along at a slow pace; everything relies on who wins this volatile battle. Brown eyes are stuck on the blatant brokenness of your gaze, for the first time able to study them without side-eyeing you or sneaking glances when you regard him by looking at his lips or nose. 

He’d never seen eyes like yours.

Blame? He didn’t blame you. Not…not entirely. But he was angry at you.

“For the love of God, I will chuck myself out of this car and sprint home—I don’t give a shit if I get shot at, Garrick. You and your little Task Force can go and fuck yourselves. You left my father with a hole in his head; made my mother leave me in a decaying house all alone and expected me to be okay with seeing my dad slump dead and feeling his blood drip off my chin. That fucking house.” Hands weaving through your locks, you wrench your eyes shut and the connection is severed in an instant, Gaz blinking back to the car with an unsteady inhalation of breath. His body is as still as a stone statue, fingers twitching when you finish with, “Fuck!” 

Foot stomping to the floor, you hunch forward, wailing in earnest as the blood on your hands makes you want to barf. Your head burns. Your throat aches. Everything felt like you were being rocked back and forth on a violent wave of self-loathing and hatred.  

“Stop it,” you rest your head between your knees, mouth open with desperate pants of air, “Fuck, p-please just stop it.”

No one knows what you’re referring to.

The car had parked a while ago—sitting in the parking lot far away from the park. Once a moment has passed, the Private only taps the wheel in the strangled moment of relative silence, and asks above your wet sobs, “Sir, I…Where are we going?” 

Kyle stares at you, opening his mouth to speak before it freezes and falls back shut. He swallows down the saliva in his throat before licking his lips, not looking at his cap before numbly putting it over his head with two hands.

“...Mansion.” The tires peel out slowly.

You don’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears; see above the red curtain settling. All you breathe down is death, and all you can think about is what went wrong. 

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

Your nails dig into your scalp harder, lips trying to strangle back sounds of a breaking mind. But you can feel his eyes on you as your face burns, digging deep when ruffling fabric makes you tense. 

Everything is so loud—too bright. You can’t focus on calming down…you…you need to—

A bomber jacket settles over your head, the sides draping down to your ankles as you blink back with panic. You’re about to scream before you realize where you are. 

Park. Car. Gaz.

The penknife.

Darkness surrounds you, and body heat suggests someone sits close. On the ground, you see a combat boot peak in from the makeshift shroud, shifting from time to time with unease and an inability to stay still. A blessing and a curse. Your bursting lungs begin to slow as you take count of the laces, studying the color and the shine. Letting the calming low-light seep right into your brain as your fingertips loosen. 

A throat lightly clears, and they tense again. 

 “We…we’re nearly back, Ma’am.” You don’t answer. Gaz sighs quietly under his breath, pressing to the earpiece sitting in his canal. “Actual, change of plans. I need a full Unit to sweep the entire VIP’s property—we’re heading back now.”

“I don’t think Laswell will go for that, 2-6.” Kyle peeks at your hidden form—the way you shake so violently he was afraid you’d shatter like glass. He thinks about what you said, not able to peel his eyes away. Even as he tries to force it down, his heart hurts.

“Do it. I’m not takin’ her to Base.” The Sergeant tits his head down, hand clenched. “It’ll make this worse than it already is.”

“...Rog. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Copy, Mate. Keep me updated, yeah?” 

Gaz thinks back to the alleyway and the penknife in his pocket feels heavier than stone. He hadn’t needed help. That wasn’t pride, that was just a fact. The Brit wasn’t as large as Soap—certainly not Ghost—though he was still well above average for what a regular workout would give you. Even if he did value integrity far better than brute strength he wasn’t like a dull blade. 

He’d had it under control. 

So why had you done that? Even you had expressed confusion over the action. For all intensive purposes, you should have wanted the terrorist to win. It seemed like you did.

“Hell,” Kyle whispers, bushing off the dried blood on his cheeks with the back of his hand as the city falls away to a slower-paced town. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the internal guilt was beginning to form. 

He hadn’t meant to yell. 

It had been a while since he’d worked Protection, had forgotten how much he should regulate his emotions. Gaz was used to strong bands of brothers—tight-knit groups that went in like a shadow and left with nothing but a whisper. That was One-Four-One; his brothers. 

But…brown eyes slowly rove to stare. Listening to the struggling breath like an animal being choked by a collar. 

You’d already gone through so much, and although he could grab you by the arm and shake with all his might, it wouldn’t change the fact that you didn’t know how this worked. 

He needed to keep his gentle approach, not force you back into the hole you were intent on keeping in. Gaz needed to fix this. Tell you. Show you. 

He’d do it tonight and if his honesty didn’t work even a smidge then he’d send in his offer for re-assignment. He’d made a mistake, and he was never one to let that stand.

By the time the van was pulling into the iron gate, held open by a black-clothed soldier, the property was already swept and cleared. Gaz opens his door and steps out, leaving it open on the off chance you would follow him. You didn’t, of course. 

“Sergeant,” the man’s face was covered with a balaclava, large of shoulders and chest. A hand is presented, and Kyle takes it with a soft greeting.

“How’s it looking?” 

“Everything’s in order, Sir. Laswell took the time to set us up back in town,” there’s a glance sent your way, and Kyle restrains himself from sidestepping and blocking the man’s view. His instincts were still rampant and he shifted his legs restlessly. “Figured the Lady wouldn’t be too keen on letting us stay here—can’t do anything without the inheritor's permission.”

Gaz blinks at that but only adds it to his databank. He knew you had control over who you allowed on the property, but hadn’t known you were the inheritor. 

Why hadn’t the estate gone to the wife? 

“Good to hear,” Kyle smiles slightly, tapping the side of his fist with the soldiers. “I can take it from here, yeah? See to it your men are comfortable and keep the radio up—we don’t know what else might be going on.”

“Copy, Sir.” When Gaz switches weight, looking into the interior of the car he’s already addressing you with a calm demeanor; ready to coax you out with a good chunk of his gut filled with apprehension. 

“Love…can you—” The car was empty, and before Kyle could begin to snap to attention, the black of his bomber jacket slashes his wide vision. A deep sigh falls after a second of exasperation, sarcasm about to be called over the air. Hands rub over eyes before itching at his cheek with a muttered, “Keep it light, Garrick. Sky’s not falling just yet.”  

He follows, concern growing steadily. 

You had killed a man. Lived through your first shootout. How was he supposed to make this work? You already hated him…what could he say? 

Gaz knew for a fact that it hadn’t fully hit you yet, and when it did, he was afraid you would break apart even more. But why was he so conflicted about staying or leaving?

Your feet carry you to the house quickly, head down and extra jacket over your shoulders that you don’t bother to flick off. Shoving past leaving soldiers that give you stiff looks as you pass makes your lungs hitch. You didn’t want them on your property—you didn’t know them. 

“Love!” Kyle calls your name from behind, and you hear his jogging feet catching up as your fast-snapping eyes find the black void in the bushes. 

The cat. 

Green eyes brush against your, slitted pupils corralled by overgrown foliage. It blinks slowly, and you force your head forward once more; un-cut hand snapping to your mouth to keep down the frantic way your lungs jump. 

Doors were of no obstacle to you, you shove through them with a hunched shoulder, letting it swing open and hit the wall with a defining bang of oak. 

“Hey! Slow down, would you?” Ripping your shoes off, you speed across the foyer, heart distressed. Before long your body points you down the hallway. 

Gaz rushes after, heart beating fast as your form disappears down a sharp corner that he grabs to swing himself past.

The black of his bomber jacket is a temporary sight before the barrier of a door slams shut, swallowing you whole. 

“I need to…!” Kyle halts to a quick stop, arms at his sides as his button-up stays rolled up at his elbows. Brown eyes close tightly.

“...Apologize.” He places a hand on his head, tilting back his neck, “Shit.”

—

By the time you realized you weren't in your room, it had already been too late to turn back around. 

You gradually come back into reality after a fitful anxiety-induced fatigue on your father’s office couch. Hours had passed, judging by the pitch darkness of the room; the temperature was already colder than you usually were used to. 

Eyes stare at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity, and it’s sad to think the only time that everything in your head calms down is when you can listen to the pipes in the walls. Creaking wood. Forcing yourself up, you hiss sharply, lids wrenching shut at the zinging pain up your right arm. 

Ripping your hand up, you blink rapidly through the achiness of your red eyes to stare down at the dried wounds. The twin gashes across your palm crack as you flex your fingers, crimson lines opening. Even as your sigh builds, you only watch them begin to bleed at the movement; not relaxing your muscles for the single purpose of not caring enough to. 

The skin was agitated. Itchy as well. 

I sent a knife into a man’s eye. You still, lips parted and numb. I watched people die one after the other because I went outside. This is…this is my fault. 

Kyle had been right. You don’t listen. You’re stubborn, vengeful. 

“But I can’t be anything else.” Whispers bounce off the walls; the coffee table ahead of you and the gargantuan desk behind where you’d play hide and seek in the gaps. 

You’d run to your father's office to try and find comfort you know you’d find nowhere else. Pull it from memories considering it was all you had left. 

But you can’t pull comfort for this. Part of you wants to put on the news—know the count of the dead. The other part says that would be worse. 

“Because of me.” You mumble, standing on unsteady legs that threaten to buckle. Your body is sore from all the running; fleeing from bullets. 

No, not because of you. 

Sucking in a slow breath and listening to the creaking of the house, the ghosts, you clear your throat to dispel the mucus. 

Because of your father. Mind racing, this event puts a hammer into the stained glass that was your family legacy. Before you could deny it—you could say it was Samson Row that was judge, jury, and executioner; while that was still true, what kind of people would fire on innocent bystanders to try and nail a single target? 

Turning, you think back to Laswell as your tongue licks at the dryness of your lips and your eyes move to attempt and paint a picture. You stop to look at the desk.

“Your father had sensitive information that searches of his shipping lot and museum office didn’t offer any leads on. While you’re spending more time at your home, I want you to look for them. Anything that involves other dealers or a location to a hub.”

Taking down a slow breath, the walls were suddenly suffocating you. Your father didn’t…he…he couldn’t have.

Your right hand pulses mockingly. 

Without knowing, your feet pad over the floor to his desk quietly, standing behind the chair and over the dust-hidden mahogany. The old lamp on the corner; the strewn papers that have faded ink and old script haunt you as you slide your vision over them. 

Museum exhibits that never got installed, bank statements, and more important documents pertaining to his job. You skim over them, bloody fingers leaving streaks in their delirious acts. 

Feeling the fiber under your flesh, you push them aside one by one. 

Nothing of interest. 

Your throat closes for no reason, skin goes slick with perspiration dribbling down your brow. Nothing, see. 

Blood drops down to the table as you hold your hand over it, loose and limp at the wrist but violently quivering. You watch. And then you start to open the drawers with a heated fervor, wiping at your forehead and leaving streaks of crimson. 

“There’s nothing.” You gasp. “Nothing. They’re dead because of nothing. I killed a man for nothing.” 

Guns fire in your mind; people scream like you had when sitting in that chair in a basement. Gaz’s eyes boring into you. You’d looked into his eyes not once but twice—the second of your own volition.  

“Nothing?!” Folders are grabbed and slammed to the desktop, exploding with a poof of dust that leaves you turning and sneezing violently before you stifle yourself. 

You’re ripping them open one after the other, burning in the back of your nose. A knife keeps releasing from your hand. A shove on your shoulder as a bullet hits a trash can that was used for cover. 

The black bomber jacket that had fallen off in your slumber and was now sitting in a heap on the floor. 

Innocent people. 

Fuck, they were screaming at you.

“There can’t be nothing.” You seethe, trepidation both your drug and your double-edged sword…what if you did find something? “There needs to—”

“Love…?” Air silences. “Are you alright in there?” 

There’s a shadow under the door, barely discernible over the darkness as you shiver. How long had he been there? How…how long had you been in here? 

Your fingers stop their aggressive tossing and you blink through the dizziness of your brain. Stumbling back a step or two, your hip bumps into the chair. Instantly, the large thing skids over the floor with its wooden legs as an ear-ringing screech as you grab onto the arm to stop from falling. Your skull pounded. 

Quick, loud, knocking starts. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Breathing quickly, your body shakes at the noise, the sound so similar to the sounds in the park. 

“S—,” your voice breaks, “Stop fucking knocking!” 

It stops instantly, and you pause there for more than a few moments glaring at the floor; brows tight and teeth biting into your lip. The quiet sound of a hesitant voice echoes after a minute.

“Could you open the door for me?” Gaz clears his throat as you stare at the wooden barrier with glinting eyes. An attempt at a kind chuckle. “...Been getting cramps in my neck from leanin’ back against the wall all night. And I, uh,” you close your eyes, “I think we need to have a conversation, Love. A real one, if you follow me.” 

You were tired, incomparably so, but even you knew he was right. What he had yelled at you in the car was true. All of this had gotten put into place with as much consideration as a mallet gives a nail. 

And Kyle had known all along what would come of it. A sliver of guilt stabs you. 

You didn’t have to like him—didn’t have to forgive him, because you probably never would—but you had to begin to listen. That didn’t mean stop pushing back, it just meant that his expertise was needed for the safety of the city as a whole. 

The city with the museum that your father had loved dearly.

Feet shuffling, you move around the desk, side-eyeing the now bloody contents atop with a numb expression as you move to the door. You had locked it, apparently. 

Not that you remember. 

Hand stuttering above the handle, you stop and listen with straining ears. A shifting body calls to the Sergeant’s anxiousness at your non-visibility. The erratic behavior. Resting your forehead over the wood, you truly wonder if there would ever be a time you were used to someone else living in this house. 

This house. Your house. 

It didn’t feel right for anyone to live here. 

“Are you there, Ma’am?” You open the door stiffly. 

Kyle’s face is tense, you can tell just by looking at his chin; how he holds his shoulder back like that. There’s a split-second where you both study each other—you, noticing how he’s still just as dirty as you, and him, seeing the focal point of the streak of red blood on your forehead. 

“What, Garrick,” you speak as he sees the ruffled nature of your clothes. Defeated muscles. “Here to tell me you were right?”

His legs cease their movements, mouth half-open with apologizing sentiments now snapping shut with a click of teeth. But not from anger. Concern. Why were you bleeding? Had he missed you being injured? Kyle had sworn you were alright—no shots had ever met their mark.

He’s touching you before he remembers to ask first.

You’re being swept back into the room and plopped down on the couch with no warning, and you don’t fight it. Warm hands grip your shoulders and squeeze quickly.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz rushes to the desk to flick on the lamp, “Why didn’t you tell me you were hit?!” Your eyes snap shut, blinking rapidly at the light.

Rays cascade over the room, the dust in the air being sent into dance classes with how they flew. Lids narrowed at the floor, your socked feet shift over the old rug, but you offered no answer over a soft shrug of your shoulders. 

Kyle gawks at the back of your head, rushing back over to check you over as he bends on one knee. Hesitating for only a moment, he first looks at your head, tilting it back and forth with a hand under your chin and the other by your ear. You’re cold under his grip and that makes him even more nervous.

How much blood had you lost?

“I need you to tell me where it—”

“Hand.” He blinks, staring at you for a second with surprise. Gazing down he sees the spasming limb with a small inhalation of air. 

You let him slowly move back, all digits moving to encompass the afflicted area. But he pauses. 

Frowning, you rub the side of your face into your shoulder as you hear the man suck down a sigh. Confusion lingers in your heart, but you care little at the moment. 

“May I?” In between the brief palpitations of your most important muscle, you forget for a second who’s in front of you. You forget the Sergeant. The Brit. 

Your face softens.

When had someone last asked you that? 

Your lids slide open and closed in surprise as Kyle waits, outwardly patient with an internal raging heart. 

“You’re already here, aren’t you?” The room is bathed in warm light and quiet creaking. Two people who don’t know how to act around one another suddenly suffocated with too many words. So they say nothing. 

Kyle grips your hand so softly that you have to hold your breath in order to keep sane. You want to rip it back from how warm he is.

“Christ, Love, you’re freezing.” It’s a low comment, passing more for a whisper as brown eyes snap up to you. But slowly he shifts your flesh with the dig of his firm fingers, running over the bone to check for internal damage until he flips it over entirely to see the real problem area. 

He holds in a sharp gasp. Tries to keep his cool as you stare at his bobbing neck.

“That…this’ll need stitches.” You hum. Gaze sliding to his face you say what first comes to mind as you draw a comparison to his twin scratches. You end up wondering if you’re drunk again.

“We match.” you point casually to Kyle’s left cheek. His were smaller than yours, of course. 

Gaz focuses on your eyes even as you choose not to look at him directly. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He attempts a weak chuckle, still holding your hands with the hope that you might take some of his heat for your own. Why were you so cold? “I suppose we do. Why don’t you come with me and I can get you all cared for, yeah?” 

You weren’t acting right, and for an instant, the Sergeant misses your snarky attitude. Anything was better than that bitter nothingness living in your expression. He was shocked. The woman who he’d had this iron impression of was using a chisel on it every instant she could. 

It only made him feel more and more like a prick. 

Fucking hell, Garrick. This is a whole different game. 

“How’d you get them, then?” You were in shock, speaking whatever came to mind with a far-off stare dunked in alarm. Kyle had seen it all before and it didn’t matter who it was plastered on. It was his duty to help. 

“Tell you what, Ma’am,” he stands, helping you up by the arm and sending a soft smile your way. “We’ll get you all proper again, and I’ll tell you all about my days in the police force. I wager you’d like that. History and all.”

“I like old history,” leading you out the door with a hand over your back that rubs small circles, he traverses the darkness and leads you to the shining light of his room one step at a time. 

He sends an amused glance, “That’s my old history. Pretty good, too, in my opinion.” 

You shiver again, and Kyle draws you a little closer, frowning tight. Your eye bore into the ground with cold sweat on your temple. He moves for a second to wipe it away but stops himself with a tight closing of his lids.

“Why would I care about that?”

“You just asked me, Love.” He reminds softly, turning the corner slowly as the two of your feet make the floorboards scream. This house was never quiet was it?

“Humph,” your sound bounces off the walls when Gaz makes it to his chosen room, the door already open and the light on.

He moves you to the cleanly made bed and lets you sit down while he walks to one of his bags by the wardrobe. A medical kit is pulled out, yet he keeps sending looks behind him to stare at you. 

Legs hanging off the bed, you can’t really tell if you’re here or if this is some strange point between delirium. For certain, though, you don’t feel good. 

Bleeding like a stuck pig and trying to keep your vomit down. It was all a state of far off sea-water. A roaring of waves in the back of your head. But there was a realization as Gaz shifts in front of you once more, face creased.

It is the realization that no matter what you do or what you try and change, you will always just be this. Stuck; stationary. Left to waste like the mansion itself—breaking down year after year until all that’s left is rotting wood and shattered stone. Blades of grass in the cracks and termites with fat bellies. But what was even worse was that you didn’t know how to function without this decay in your skin. The quiet rage pulled down beams of sanity. The agony a network of scuffed floors and dented walls. Shut curtains. Abandoned rooms and memories that shutter with every gust of wind. Ghosts in the hallways. 

Was it all real, or was it just a pigheaded attempt to find something to relate to? There was truth to it—there had to be.

This was home. 

This was you. 

This would always be you.

“You asked how I got my scars,” Kyle speaks and you notice his hand back in yours, skin tingling not from the medicated wipe he runs over your palm like a feather, but rather from the sensation of touch. 

Warm. It was a blanket of pure silk. A stuffed animal set into the dryer. How had you ever forgotten what that felt like? 

You hum an acknowledgment, flinching when the chemicals start to turn your hand numb. Gaz lightly shushes you, squeezing your wrist. 

For some reason, your nose starts burning at the action. 

“It’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” He stands, grabbing a chair from the corner table and bringing it over to place in front of your knees. The medical bag is placed beside you, various contents being taken out as elastic gloves are pulled over long fingers. “Where should I start then,” Kyle stares at your sad-tilted eyebrows. “The moment it happened or how I put myself into that bloody stupid situation?”

“Situation?” You utter, scoffing without venom, “Sounds pretty serious there, Sergeant.”

“Oh, trust me it was,” the way he places your hand in his lap is deeply intimate, disgustingly so, but even as you want to rage and shove him off, it hurts to think too deeply. “Terribly serious—I was undercover, y’know.” 

His soft expression holds you as the first stitch pierces your flesh. Pressure, no more. You frown, rubbing your eyes with your free limb. He pauses and glances your way, finding no pain, he continues on with the second, deft hold creating perfect knots.

“Ever done that, then? All your snooping around, I wouldn’t be surprised.” A smirk comes and goes on your lips. “Certainly seem the type, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Can’t say I have.” 

“Hm, well,” he chuckles. “Anyways, you see, it was a drug bust during my third year with the Blue. Opium. Sizable Mates running that whole operation. They found me out two bloody weeks in.” You blink to slight surprise, shoulders losing their hunch as you now have something else to draw your attention to. “Hoped to at least last a month, to be honest with you.”

“You’re insane.”

“Ah, probably, Ma’am.” Taking notice of the blood staining Gaz’s cap from earlier today when it was on your head, you bite your lip as the story continues. “I was held up in a shipping crate for a whole damn week, and this one fellow,” Kyle moves one hand up and your vision snaps to it, seeing him motion to his chin with a ‘U’ shaped hold, “proper beard on him, tells me I need to give up who I was.” 

“...Did you?” Lip quirking, the Sergeant finishes off the first row of sutures, grabbing another wipe and cleaning the area. He was happy you were focusing, at least, but you were still too shaky for his liking.

“Hell no—Bastard sucker-punched me. Happened to have a nice ring on his finger. Can only pray for whoever was married to the bloke. Ripped my cheek open something nasty, enough to make it scar over.” Both of you are surprised by the huff of laughter that jerks your chest. 

A pause as Kyle feels his chest go loose. That wasn’t a bad sound at all.

“Well, that’s it,” Gaz admits softly, halfway done with the second, smaller cut, “can’t say it’s all too amazing.”

“Because getting tortured by drug lords isn’t what you consider amazing, apparently.” You cough through your embarrassment, feeling slightly back to normal. Taking down a deep breath, you stare down at your palm as it gets sewn back together again. Hearing how the skin squelches.

“Well,” the Brit holds you delicately, a swelling of pride in his chest, “I’ve done a few bigger things than busting the likes of them. Stuff that meant a great deal more in the moment.”

The rest of the sutures and cleaning is done in total silence, and your lungs are suddenly able to work properly again. Kyle places a thick gauze pad atop the marks, holding it down while taking a roll of bandages; beginning to unravel them. 

His thumb is holding the end down when he whispers.

“Why didn’t you want my help?” You ran from him in the park—hid away when you were injured. None of his teammates would do that.

She’s not them. 

With a skip to your pulse, you hold your lips shut with an iron rod. That was the question, wasn’t it? You had run from the only person in the world that seemed to care whether you lived or died.

Peering at your palm, you speak the only truth you know, “Because then I’d have to admit something was wrong.”

There are more things you want to say to him—horrible things; pleas and nonsense—but in the end you just turn to stare at his neck with blood on your hand and stitches stuck in your flesh. 

Kyle’s eyebrows peel up, holding your hand in his own and suddenly more in tune with you than he ever had been before. 

“I…” He starts but doesn’t finish. Not for a long while. “I’m sorry, Love. For all of it. But you need to start listening to the things that I tell you—I’m here to keep you alive. It’s my first and my only priority. You need to be able to live with that.” 

He wasn’t sure there was more he could say. Your lips pull in, pressure living in your chest like an infection. 

“I hate you,” you say, eyes watering. Blood on your forehead.

“I know,” he responds, slowly, softly; wishing for a moment you’d look into his eyes again so you’d realize he’s finally starting to understand. 

TAGS:

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[this-aint-massachusetts]

more FNaF hcs because the tism™️ is telling me to info dump

sorry if some of these are the same as the last one I forget which ones I put before 🙁

-When Mike was chasing after the car he tripped scraped his knee broke his ankle and busted his kneecap and just gave up on life right then and there

-Mike smokes weed but he could take the tiniest tinniest hit of a bong and he’d cough up a lung so he just mainly sticks to blunts or bowls

-Abby has called 911 multiple times because she wanted to contact Vanessa but it obviously didn’t work. 

-Vanessa used to dye her hair fun colors but she can’t anymore cuz of her job but she wears colorful extensions 

-Abby’s therapist has tried so hard to hint at Mike that he should get an autism diagnosis because his sister has one and he still hasn’t picked up on it despite showing clear traits of autism 

-When golden Freddy and Abby left the cab he just handed Cory a piece of paper with ‘one million dollars’ scribbled on it in green crayon. Cory was to scared to say no he just was like “yeah ok sure” and then cried 

-Mike and Abby did not go to Aunt Janes funeral they instead went to Dave and Busters and played arcade games while their entire extended family blew up Mikes Nokia phone

-Aunt Jane was a “wine mom” and was in heavy denial of being an alcoholic 

-Abby really likes bugs and puts them in her pockets but Mike is terrified of bugs so he freaks out whenever he sees them crawling on her or in her laundry 

-Vanessa apologizes to people while arresting them

-The animatronics consider the cupcake to be their puppy and get confused when people think he’s a menace

-One time Doug ran into Mike and Abby at Walmart once and he just threw his thick ass lawyer wallet at then then ran away to have a panic attack. Mike and Abby bought a blow up pool that day

-Doug had to go to therapy due to Aunt Jane being an absolute fucking Karen

-Doug’s now a regular at Sparkys and is besties with Ness, he considers Ness “The son he never had”

-Bonnie kid (Jeremy) really liked Spider-Man

-Vanessa has a pitbull named Princess that she took home from an animal control call. (The dog is a fucking danger to society)

-Abby picked up on some 80s slang from the animatronics and now just says radical to everything 

-Max and her friends would be doing TikTok trends before TikTok was even a thing (stealing soap dispensers from public bathrooms, sticking pennies in electrical sockets ect)

-Vanessa is a Disney adult/hj

-There’s a rubix cube in the pizzeria that the animatronics have been trying to solve since they’ve been dead basically 

-Every night after Abby goes to bed Mike goes to the kitchen and eats shredded cheese by the handful. Abby caught him once and he cried.

-Mike is the type of person to ask those weird questions while watching movies, like: “If their underwater how are they drinking soda?”

-Mike would stuff all his emotions and feelings down till he bursts and it usually results in him locking himself in his room while having a panic attack

-Max was also a weed dealer so Mikes out of a babysitter and a plug. 

-Vanessa hates soda, loves tea tho

-Mike really likes the Care Bears and uses Abby as an excuse for liking it

-Ness uses those really cheesy pet names for Mike, some of them southern originated because I believe in southern Ness solidarity. Ex: Sweetie pie, Sugar, Doe

-Abby is really good at hide and seek but caused Mike a few panic attacks because of how well she hides

-After Freddy’s neither Mike or Abby could sleep without a nightlight so she lent Mike hers on the agreement she could sleep in his room with him. (He of course accepted)

-Mike: Where’s my Diet Coke?

Vanessa: Oh I threw it away, sodas not good for you.

Mike: Oh ok- WHAT.

-Abby still asks Mike to tie her shoes for her even though he already taught her how to tie them herself

-Mike has a very particular morning routine that he has to follow every morning and feels icky if it gets interrupted for any reason 

-Mike is more noise sensitive and Abby is more texture sensitive but Mike still hates certain textures (ex: olives)

-Mike has considered owning chickens and even went with Abby to look at little chicks but she soon started sneezing and feeling sick and that's when they found out she's allergic so that quickly got shut down

-Abby gives her stuffed animals lore and hierarchies and Ness is always asking her about it when her and Mike go into the diner

-Vanessa Has a very minimalist style not because she likes it but because she's scared of getting attached to anything she calls home which at times worries her when she's with Mike, Abby and Ness. This results in her sitting in bed, chewing on her lip thinking of constant escape plans and emergency exits in case her father ever returns, if something bad happens, etc.

-Mike likes seeing Abby draw him and pretends not to notice when she stares and tries to get the color of his shirt just right (he buys clothing in colors she has to make it easier)

-Abby is the type to point out cows and horses and will repeatedly kick Mike's seat even while he's driving until he acknowledges them

-Abby doesn’t understand why her and Mike can’t just print more money to make them rich and Mike has had to explain to to her 12837383838 times

-Ness is a theater kid (yeah if you didn’t see this coming I think you need glasses)

-Ness and Mike play lps with Abby, Abby explains all of her lps lore extensively and Ness listens to every bit of it while Mike is just like: “I love you both but wtf”

-Mike sometimes age regresses sometimes when put under pressure and Ness is literally the best caretaker ever (this one’s based on a Dreamtheory fic I read once and I fell in love with the idea)

-Ness and Mike call each other every night before going to sleep and once Mike forgot so he woke up the next morning to 300+ voicemails from Ness asking if he’s ok

okay that’s all i have for now I’ll post more later when i feel like it oki byeee 😘✌️

[violetlunette]

Runaway_Chapter 1: Runaway

Summary: After the realization Silver is the cause of his family’s pain, Silver runs away, leaving all he knows and loves.

Master List

Ao3

Notes:

*Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7

*Fairly long, around 2,500 words

Story Notes:

*In this work, Leah was the one who needed Malenore’s glow to survive and, at the time, she was in the early stages of pregnancy. Why? Because it fits better dramatically and story wise.

*The metaphorical “want for a nail” that leads to this tale is that Sebek and Silver never got a chance to talk about what Silver was going through. Silver pulled himself out of the dark by telling himself he owed it to Malleus and Lilia to save them, but after that...

~Start~

It was over.

Malleus was back to normal, everyone was awake, Lilia and Sebek were safe—it was all over.

Wasn’t it?

~*~

Silver groaned behind clenched teeth. His head was throbbing, and every pulse of blood was shooting pain through his brain. It took effort to open his eyes, which stung from exhaustion, and even then, the world was spotty with colors. Thankfully, the lights were low. Slowly, he attempted to push himself up, but his limbs were shaky. It was as if he were a baby deer.

‘What happened?’ Silver’s expression pinched as he tried to recall. And then he did.

He whipped his head up, a gap escaping his lips. His eyes darted about the Diasomnia hall, decorated with banners and streamers for Lilia’s farewell, looking for--

“Malleus!”

“Lord Malleus!!”

He saw his father immediately hurry to Malleus, with Sebek at his side. Silver felt a warm flow through him at the sight of those he loved most.

When he last saw them, it was in the dream world. Lilia had stayed behind in his dream to allow them to escape and save Malleus from himself. Then later, Sebek was injured while defending him. And Malleus…

Poor Malleus had been overblotted, falling into despair over the thought of losing Lilia and turning into a powerful foe that Silver and the others were barely able to defeat.

But it was over now. Everyone was safe, and Malleus was back to his usual self.

Heart swelling, Silver made to join them as the prince began to stir, tears of relief starting to appear--

Then he stopped, paralyzed by a chill that went through him.

‘Wait…I…’ Memories of his father’s dream swirled to the surface, like a beast from the gloom.

Humans invading Briar Valley, raping the land, and leaving mountains hollow. Destroying the homes of innocent Fae folk. The soldiers attacking the castle where a baby Malleus was sleeping, unhatched in his egg, as his mother sang to him one last time before the Knight of the Dawn arrived and slayed her.

The Knight of the Dawn. His…

Silver went cold, ice filling his veins as he replayed the words he had overheard in the dream.

“My sister, your WIFE, Princess Leah, is suffering from the child YOU placed in her. Every night, my father prays for their health, but it’s not enough! With the princess’ glow, we might be able to save them.”

Silver’s body quivered. It was his fault. It was because of HIM that the humans invaded Brair Valley, the place Silver had the gall to call his home for seventeen years. It was because of Silver that the Knight of the Dawn killed Malenore. The Princess, who fought for her country and her unborn child, a child she never even got to see.

Because of him.

‘Father—no, General Vanrouge—no—who...who...how... Lord Malleus, I--I--’ Silver couldn’t think. It was all he could do to breathe, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him and threatening to crush him to the ground. He looked at his hand, which was digging into the dark stone floor through the leather gloves. It was shaking as the skin turned gray.

Nausea filled him as the world began to spin. He thought he was going to throw up.

It was too much. Silver couldn’t stay. He had to leave. He had to get out of there.

He cast a momentary glance at Lilia and the others, Sebek weeping as Lilia comforted a distressed Malleus. Just as he had done with Silver as a child.

Body tense, the human stood quietly, not wanting to draw their attention as he left.

~*~

As he wandered down the winding steps, which were bathed in shadows, Silver attempted to process all that had happened.

He still felt ill, and quickly his attempts to hold back failed. As he found himself vomiting out the window, a dawning realization burned him like fire, even as the cold wind from outside blew against his face.

‘It was all because of me,’ he thought. ‘I was the cause of everything wrong in their lives.’

The Fae lost their land and their homes. Lilia lost a beloved friend, whom he grew up with and suffered undeserved scorn from others. Malleus never got a chance to know his mother or how much she loved him.

All because Silver had been conceived and made his mother ill. If not for him, then the Fae would all be living peacefully.

Princess Malenore would have lived and gotten to raise her child. On top of all that, Lilia would have been praised as the general he deserved, with medals, all the honors he deserved, and more. More than that, he would have been with his friends.

However, because of Silver’s existence, none of that happened. Instead, everyone suffered.

‘And father knows it.’ Silver could still recall the look of pure loathing in Lilia’s eyes, masking centuries of pain, when he realized Silver’s true identity as a baby. How Lilia had longed to reach out, to rip out the babe's throat. And he would have too—if not for Lilia’s love for Malleus and possibly his own soft heart.

A heart too kind for someone like Silver.

Hick...

Sliver’s lips pressed, holding back a sob.

“Hick… Father… I… Hick...” ‘I can’t only imagine how you’ve suffered all these years.’ To look at Silver, every day, knowing who he was and that he was responsible for everything wrong in Lilia and Malleus’ lives, must have been agony beyond any wound a sword could inflict. Especially now that Silver had the exact same face as him. The exact same.

It must have been agony to hold Silver at night when he cried, to force a smile for him.

And Malleus…

“YOU were the cause of my pain! You and your father! On top of that, you’re the proof of Lilia’s betrayal of my family and myself! I hate you!"

Silver flinched and fell against the wall, sliding to the floor. The look of pure loathing and pain on Malles' face burned into his memory and slashed his soul apart like a dark blade.

He was right. Malleus was right. How--

How could Malleus ever look at him again?

Sebek certainly wouldn’t.

‘Sebek…’ He would hate Silver when he figured it all out.

So much had been going on as they traveled, but once Sebek put the pieces together, he would look at Silver with scorn. Sebek loved Malleus, Lilia, and his grandfather, Baul, more than anything. Silver could already see the other’s hatred and fury, glowing in his eyes, words of disdain spilling from his lips.

“Lord Malleus and Master Lilia raised you, and for what?! If it wasn’t for you, then they—and grandfather—wouldn’t have suffered as they did! As far as I’m concerned, you’re no different than the humans who invaded our land!"

Silver’s head fell forward, his palms pressing hard against his eyes, which turned red due to the sting of tears.

‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...’ It was all his fault. It was all his fault. Even tonight was all his fault.

Had Silver not wept, like he was now, then Malleus wouldn’t have blotted over. But because he had, Malleus fell into despair, and everyone on Sage Island suffered.

But that was his existence, wasn’t it? One that brought pain and suffering to all. And Silver couldn’t do a thing about it. 

There was nothing he could do to make up for the past. To give back what was lost or heal the scars inflicted upon everyone he loved.

Nothing--

“Silver!”

Above him, from the floors above, Silver heard his name being called by multiple people. One louder than the rest;

“Silver!” Lilia’s voice cracked as it carried loudly over the others. “Where are you? Answer me!”

The frantic tone pierced Silver’s heart like a dagger.

He shoved himself to his feet, his breath ragged with sobs. This morning, he would have hurried to the man to assure Lilia that he was alright and everything was fine.

Now, however, Silver ran down the steps and to the exit, bursting out the large doors to the outside.

He didn’t have a destination in mind as he ran. He just knew that he had to run to get away from Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek—everyone.

Silver’s legs carried him down the pathway, surrounded by thorns--just like the ones around the stolen castle--and to the mirror. As soon as the glass was in sight, he charged it like a bull. The action flung him through the portal and to the marbled floor, where his knees slammed painfully. Taking in haggard breaths, one thought blossomed in his mind:

‘I can’t let them take me back.’

They would. He knew they would, or at least Lilia would. Being as kind as he was, Silver knew Lilia would tell him that the past wasn’t his fault and that he loved him. But that would be a lie.

How could anyone love the son of their enemy? Especially when he was the cause of everything?

Knees throbbing, Silver staggered to his feet, the ring around his neck swaying as the stones glittered in the faint light. Once he gained his footing, Silver set out of the school at a run.

Blackthorns still covered the area, though he could see the dome above slowly retreating, revealing the dawn peeking over the college. As Silver made his exit from the building, he prayed that it was a symbol of a better beginning for Lilia and the others.

‘Did Lord Malleus do all of this?’ Silver wondered as he looked at the vines. ‘Is the entire island covered in them?’ Despite the current situation, he was in awe of his Lord’s power. Only the Witch of Thorns herself had managed such a feat in the past. Truly, Malleus…

Silver shook his head to bring him to the present. He had no time for such thoughts. Right now, he had to get off the island.

‘But how?’ The mirror was controlled by Crowley; a boat would be far too slow, and staying was out of the question as he knew Lilia would find him. He was always good at finding Silver whenever the boy got upset, hid somewhere, or ran. That used to be a comfort to him. Now...

The thudding sound of heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and Silver instinctively hid behind a thick apple tree before peeping out.

‘Those uniforms…’ Running past him toward the school was a group of Styx soldiers, along with a squad of guards from Briar Valley.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Malleus not only overblotted, but his phantom created a dark spell that enveloped the island. It was natural that they would be called and forced to work together.

‘I hope they don’t blame Malleus or his father.’ Guilt filled Silver as he realized that, once again, Malleus and Lilia would be punished because of him. Sebek would be as well if they accused him of not doing his job correctly. (An accusation that would wound the boy to his core.) However, the blame didn’t lie with any of them.

Had Silver been strong and not broken in front of Malleus and burdened him with his feelings then his prince would never have felt the need to “bless” everyone and blotted.

Silver’s fingers gripped the bark so tight that he tore some off.

“Dammit,” he muttered through his teeth, disdainful of himself. He just kept making things worse and worse, didn’t he? Not just for Malleus, Lilia, and Sebek, but for everybody.

This thought strengthened his resolve, and Silver knew he had to leave before he was discovered. Jaw-clenched, he pushed himself off the tree and set off. But then--

“Silver?” Silver’s voice caught in his throat.

‘That voice--’ He turned and met the multicolored eyes of Baul, Sebek’s grandfather.

When Silver and Sebek were young, Baul would stop by to check on Sebek’s progress. As such, the two knew each other well enough.

The old man still looked like he had 400 years ago in Lilia’s as if time didn’t dare touch him. If not for the scales on his face and his sharper features, he would look just like his youngest grandson.

The realization hurt Silver, and many emotions flooded Silver as he recalled the warrior fighting tirelessly to protect his home and kingdom. It was easy to imagine Sebek battling the human invaders.

Invaders who were only there because of Silver.

Silver tensed as the older fae approached, eyes glowing against the dark.

“What are you doing here?” he inquired, his gruff voice hiding his concern as he looked Silver over. “Where're Sebek and General Vanrouge?”

Silver swallowed. He couldn’t tell the truth. Baul would drag him back to Lilia and the others if he did.

“They’re fine. They’re helping Lord Malleus and the others right now at the Diasomnia dorm,” he explained. His gaze dropped as he added, "I was sent on Fa...Lilia’s orders were to check out the island and make sure everything was alright. That way, I could put Malleus’ mind at ease.” The words felt like bile burning his throat but between this and the truth...

Baul frowned; however, as this was Silver, he had no reason not to believe him.

“And Prince Malleus?”

“He’s fine,” Silver said quickly, hoping that wasn’t a lie. “Everyone’s a bit out of it, but no one’s hurt.” Baul sighed in visible relief, his shoulders sagging.

“Everyone on the island is okay as well. Briar Valley and STYX have been working together since the barrier appeared to monitor them,” the other explained.

“Even so, I should see for myself,” Silver insisted. “Orders and all.” Baul numbly nodded, his relief and worry clouding his judgment at the moment. It was clear that he was desperate enough to get to his grandchild that he would let Silver do whatever he wanted at the moment.

“You shouldn’t be alone, orders or not,” he said after a moment, opening his eyes to look at the pale teen. “We have no idea if there’s still any danger from the overblotting.”

“I understand,” Silver said quickly, worried that every wasted moment was giving Lilia more time to find him. “I’ll go to the Brair Valley soldiers and ask one to assist me.

“In the meantime, please go to my father and Sebek. I’m worried that they might be suffering as well and would feel better if you were there to support them.” While this was to get the man away, it wasn’t a lie, as Silver would feel better with the other on his family’s side. Baul nodded, his mind evidently filled with worry for Malleus, his old general, and his beloved grandson.

“Go to a STYX soldier instead so they can look you over,” he ordered. Usually, he would insist on escorting the other; however, his desire to check on Sebek trumped this action. “If any of the Briar Valley soldiers give you trouble, use my name and collect theirs. I’ll deal with them later.” With his position as a royal guard and his fearsome reputation, Baul carried a substantial amount of weight and power.

Silver nodded, guilt settling heavily on his stomach.

“I will,” he said, hoping Baul wouldn’t notice how thick Silver’s voice was. Baul returned the nod and then took off in the direction Silver pointed.

Once he was gone, Silver took off running, knowing that his time would be extremely limited.

Though the thought would sadden him later, he would admit that Lilia taught him well. By using the skills the fae gave him, Silver alluded to the guards, fae and human, alike. Once in a while, he worried that he had been caught again, but it didn’t appear to be the case.

Despite the risk the soldiers placed him in, he was glad he saw them. Their appearance made him recall Ortho’s tale of how Rook and Epel invaded STYX Headquarters by broom. The boy had been amazed and amused by the audacity (and stupidity).

Silver wasn’t sure how far a broom would take him, but he was sure it would take him far enough, for now, at least.

The gym yard was thankfully empty, and the biggest obstacle he had to face was tearing away the vines that covered the door. He winced and hissed as the large thorns stabbed into his palms. Yet he continued to yank until the doorway was freed. Not having a key, Sliver kicked down the door with a powerful kick, fueled by desperation.

As the door fell, Silver rushed in, grabbed the first broom in sight, and ran out into the field.

“Hey? Who’s that kid?”

"Isn't that Vanrouge's human?

“Oi! Stop right there!”

Crap! He had been spotted. But he wouldn’t be stopped! Not when he was so close!

‘This is it!’ No turning back now, he thought. Silver focused his magic on the broom and took off before the guards could reach him. Their cries followed him into the skies as Silver flew into the rising sun, leaving all he knew behind.

~End for Now~

Next Chapter ->

[haveihitanerve]

Hair

Talia Al Ghul had let him braid her hair sometimes. Whether it was for a special event or for a holiday or just when they had time to spend together, without the threat of being overheard or interrupted.(Not that the interrupter would get away with it.) But for an hour, or however long they were granted, at least once a month. Damian Wayne didn’t have to be Ra's Al Ghul heir. He could just be Damian. Braiding his mothers hair. But mother was not around anymore. And Damian had no plans of ever being around her again. Even though he had enjoyed those days. She had been kinder then. Softer. More like a mother. But Selina had shown him what a real mother was like. And Talia had not been that. But he missed braiding hair. So his feet led him to her door. 

Selina opened it on the second knock and smiled when she saw it was him. Talia had never smiled just by seeing him. He had to have done something good, something to make her proud to get her to smile at him. But Selina smiled. At him. Because he was there. “Hello kitten.” She crouched to be at his level. Another thing no one had ever done in the League. They found arrogance in their height over him. But Selina, and Bruce, and his siblings all knelt to be eye level with him. “Hello Selina.” He said back. “What do you need?” She asked, still smiling softly. What do you need? Not, what do you want? Not, not now Damian. No. What do you need so I can help you? Damian smiled and Selina lit up. “I would like to braid your hair.” He said softly. Selina stood, nodding. “You came on the perfect day.” She headed back into her room, beckoning him. Damian followed her into the very back of her room, where she pushed a panel in the wall to reveal a second room. Damian blinked. The room was painted a soft black, stars and bats and cats stenciled every so often. It had a few dark red couches and beanbags, along with a black cupboard. But the most shocking thing of all was Cass, Steph, and Babs were all seated on the couches, talking and laughing. They stopped when they spotted him, but still smiled warmly. “Hey baby bird!” Steph called, scooting to one side of her seat. “Come join me!” “No me!” Babs called, shifting as well. Cass signed a few words and Damian smiled, heading over to sit with his sister. Steph and Babs pulled a face and Cass grinned in triumph, pulling Damian onto her lap. “Hello Batladies!!” Selina grinned. “Welcome to our own personal spa room. I already did this spiel but since we have a new member, Damian Wayne, I thought I should go over it again.” She winked at Damian. “This is a place where we can talk and gossip and laugh and cry. Any emotions and rants are welcome. Vent if you’d like! Sit in silence too! No judgment. Just relaxation and girl time! Plus Damian of course!” He smiled. “We should be expecting three more guests…” she trailed off as another door opened and Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy stepped into the room. 

Cass tightened her hold on Damian, just in case he wanted to attack. But he was perfectly content in her arms. “Damian, I’d like you to meet two of my best friends, Ivy and Harley.” Damian waved and Ivy and Harley gave him matching smiles. “Hey!” Steph called. “Love y’all’s hair.” The two women grinned and walked over, sitting down across from them. “Looking for ideas Steph?” Ivy mocked. Steph snorted. “Yeah right. Like I’d go fire red or crazy cotton candy.” The two women laughed and plopped down onto the sofa. “Now we just need Lois and we’ll be ready to start!” There was a knock and Lois Lane walked in. “Sorry! Am I late?” Ivy laughed. “Just on time Lane. Like always” Lois smiled. “Thanks Ivy.” She took a seat next to Babs at the girls' invitation and Selina grinned, walking over to the large cupboard. “Alright! Pick your favorite color gals and let’s start!” The cupboard was filled from bottom to top with beauty products, nail polish, hair curlers, face masks, eyelash curlers, and more. The women all jumped up, rushing to grab a color, Steph and babs climbing over the other to grab pink and Ivy and Lois arguing over the right shade of red. Selina laughed, a loud joyful thing and Damian smiled as he watched her. Cass just grinned, still sitting. Steph grabbed a hot pink and walked past, plopping a navy blue into her sister's hand. Cass smiled in thanks. Selina caught Damian’s eye and winked, beckoning him over. He slipped off Cass’s lap, walking over to her. She picked a color off the wall and knelt down, holding it out to him. “How bout it baby bird?” Damian examined the color. 

She had picked a nice bright forest green. Green was his favorite color. “It’s- a bit bright.” He said slowly. “I have an idea!” Steph was next to them, looking for a bright purple. “How about-!” She pulled a few colors off the shelf then settled on two. “Here.” She squatted next to him as well. “You can put the green down as the bottom layer, then put this black layer over top. So it looks black, but then in certain lights, it’ll shine green.” Damian considered it, then nodded. “Okay.” Steph squealed and hugged him, grabbing the colors and his hand. “Perfect!” She hurried over to her couch and threw babs feet off(causing babs to shout a string of words Bruce had pretty much banned in the house) and sat Damian down instead. “Hold out your hands.” She ordered. Damian did as she asked. “You’re gonna look so good Dami!” She said, grinning. If Damian didn’t know his sister was a wonderful person who only wanted the best for him he would’ve thought she was joking. Babs blew on her bright red nails, having lost the fight for pink, and reached for a face mask. “Wanna do a mask babe?” She asked him. “It’ll cleanse your pores. Make your skin soft and clean.” Damian nodded. “Okay.” Babs grinned and Damian allowed her to apply it to his face. “Ooh!!! No he didn’t!” Harley exclaimed. Ivy gaped at Selina. The woman nodded sagely, holding a glass of champagne. Ivy had painted her nails a dark green and was doing Harley’s in a mix of pink and blue. Selina hadn’t done anything yet, but looking at her he remembered why he was here. Steph had finished his nails, still forbidding him from looking at them, and was now gently blowing on them to dry them. 

“Wheres Jason by the way?” Babs asked Cass, putting curlers in her hair, a mask on her face. Cass shrugged, signing “he comes and goes.” “Todd does these?” Damian asked, looking between his sisters. Cass and Steph snorted. Babs grinned. “Oh yeah. All the time.” “He has some good gossip.” Harley drawled in her Boston accent. Ivy and Lois laughed. “Yes he does. It’s most interesting.” Selina laughed. Damian hadn’t seen her this relaxed in a while. “He’s off with his father right now.” She rolled her eyes. “Something secret.” Ivy wiggled her eyebrows, holding Harley’s hand. “Maybe he’s trying to be cute for you!” Lois said, laughing as Harley did her nails in a deep purple. Babs, Cass, and Steph were quiet. Selina gave them a look. “Maybe.” 

“Alright!” Steph announced. “You can look.” Damian looked down at his nails. They were painted black, but when he rotated his wrists a bit, he could see a green shine glowing underneath. Selina came over and ooohed. “Can you do that for me too, kitten?” She asked Steph. Steph lit up. “Sure!” “Can I braid your hair while she does?” Damian interjected. Selina nodded. “Of course baby.” She sat on the ground and Steph sat between her legs, taking her hands in hers. Damian sat on the couch behind her, running his hands through her thick brown hair. As he separated the strands into sections his nails glowed every so often and he smiled, looking at them. The chatter started up again, each woman talking over the other, laughing as drinks were poured easily. Cass handed him a juice box and he smiled in thanks, stopping his braiding for a second. Selina’s hair was soft, softer than Talias, and thicker too. But it was so much fun to braid. “Wowza birdie!” Steph exclaimed, looking at Selina’s head. “Holy.” Babs muttered. “Can you do my hair next bebs?” Cass asked. Damian smiled, nodding. “Sure.” And in that moment, surrounded by the women in his family, Damian felt he now understood the true meaning of family. And from then on Selina was given the title of Mother. 

(Talia became Talia)

[jungkookslipring]

I Will Never Make You Lonely: CH 1

Summary: When your life is falling apart, your 8 best friends are there to lift you up

TW: mentions of de&th, su!c!de, su!c!de tendencies, su!c!dal ideologies, depress!on, anxiety, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, crying. If this is in any way triggering I’d steer towards more of my happier works. 

If you or someone you love has thought of or acted on suicide, there is help and there is hope 

Call or text 988

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, non idol AU

PSA: this is no way represents the artists. While their birth names are used in this story, this is in no way a reflection of the artist or artists in real life.

Ch 1

The next day, Saturday, you were in your bedroom getting ready to paint your nails while the other guys were either out and about or in the apartments just doing their own thing. 

“Y/n?! Can I borrow some of your coffee grounds?” Shouted Seungmin from the other side of the apartment. You laughed before you shouted back.

“Check the bag behind mine!” There was silence and shuffling until you heard  “YOU’RE THE BEST!” You giggled to yourself. You got the younger one his own bag of ground coffee because he always borrowed yours. You didn’t mind sharing your coffee but Seungmin loved it so much you decided he needed his own; it was only fair since you used his coffee machine. 

“Would you like me to make you a cup?” Seungmin yelled from the kitchen. 

“Yes, please! Can you add vanilla too?” You ask.

“French or Bean?” He shouts back.

“Bean!!” You answer before going back to your task. You were going through your colors when your phone started ringing. It was Carter’s sister, Peyton. You put down your nail polish and answered the phone.

“Hey, what's up?” you ask putting the phone in between your ear and shoulder so you could proceed to paint your nails.

“Umm…w-what are you doing right now?” Peyton asked. You froze with the brush hovering above your nail bed. She was crying.

“I’m just about to paint my nails, why?” you ask, screwing the nail polish wand back into the tiny glass container. You grabbed the phone and held it firmly pressed to your ear. You heard your friend trying to control her breathing.

“Peyton? What’s going on?” You ask urgently.

“Carter was in a car accident early this morning…her car went off the road and hit a tree,” she choked out. Your heart stopped. There was no way.

“Is she okay?” you asked with every hope in the world that she was okay. There was silence. 

No. 

Please god no. 

There was a ringing in your ear that wouldn’t allow you to process what your friend was saying over the phone. While staring straight ahead you saw the picture frame that held a photo of you and Carter smiling together at the lake. You shook your head.

“I’m so sorry…” Peyton cried out. 

No.

You slowly set your phone on the floor as you stared at the picture. You could hear the faint voice of Peyton on the other line calling your name. You shook your head as you scooted backward until your back hit the bed frame. You press the heel of your hands to your eyes. 

“No No No..no this isn’t…this isn’t real,” you grit out between your teeth. After you moved to Seoul, you were only able to meet your best friend, Carter, once a year for a couple of days before returning to school. Little did you know that the last time you spent time with Carter would be the final time. You remained seated, hugging your legs, and rocking back and forth. Suddenly, you heard two pairs of footsteps coming to a sudden stop outside your door, before entering your room and starting to speak.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Chris asked calmly but slightly frantic. He scanned you making sure you weren’t physically hurt. You open your eyes and look up. Standing in front of you were Chris and Seungmin. How does one relay this type of information without completely shattering?

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay, yeah?” Chris whispered, squatting to your level. You shook your head again. It wasn’t okay. 

“Carter-” you whispered. 

“Carter’s dead,” you finally say. They audibly gasped, Seungmin immediately squatting down to your level by Chris.

“Oh my god…” Seungmin breathed out. Chris crawled up next to you and gathered you in his arms. 

“Oh, my goodness y/n…I’m so sorry,” he said, arms circling your frame. You barely registered the movements until you were breathing in his scent. Seungmin had a hand on your back, rubbing it in soothing motions. He turned around when he heard your friend calling your name over the phone. He picked it up and held it to his ear.

“Hi…yeah Y/n is still here, Chris has her right now,” Seungmin said gently in English. Peyton asked you to call her back when you could. She hung up and Seungmin put the phone down. When Seungmin turned back to Chris, he was still holding you in his arms. 

“Peyton asked if you could call her back when you get the chance,” he said gently as he rubbed your knee. You nodded as your eyes shook. Their comfort was the one thing keeping you grounded and preventing you from going catatonic. After maybe 5 minutes, you lifted your head from Chris’s shoulder.

“I think, I think I’m going to call Peyton back, check in on her” you whisper. Seungmin rubbed a thumb over your hand. 

“Would you like us to stay?” He asked. Your friends were just so kind. You shook your head, giving them a tight-lined reassuring smile.

“I think I’ll be okay, thank you though.”

Chris squeezed you once more before hesitantly moving to stand up. 

“If you need absolutely anything at all, come get us okay?” He said with so much sincerity in his tone. You made eye contact with them and wordlessly nodded before the two walked out and closed the door. They made their way into the living room and found Minho and Han. The duo smiled at them until they saw the sad looks Chris and Seungmin had painted on their faces. 

“You guys okay?” Minho asked. Chris let out a small sigh and guided the boys further into the living room. They all sat down on the couch and the two listened intently.

“Y/n’s best friend Carter passed away,” Chris said looking at his hands. Minho and Han’s breaths hitched. 

“Oh my gosh…” Han whispered. Minho put a hand on Han’s knee. 

“How?” Minho asked. Seungmin shook his head.

“We don’t know…we didn’t ask,” said Seungmin. They realized it had to have been a freak accident or something; Carter was young. 

“Should we tell the others?” Minho asked.

“Eventually yeah, just so they know what’s going on,” Chris said quietly. After 30 minutes, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, and Jeongin finally got home from their classes. Chris quietly called them into the living room. They all quickly took off their shoes and sat down nervously.

“No one’s in trouble, I just have some news,” Chris said sadly. Everyone’s hearts started racing, even the ones who already knew.

“We don’t know how…but Y/n’s best friend Carter died,” Chris said sadly. Everyone’s eyes went huge. 

“Oh no…” Changbin said quietly, shaking his head. He couldn’t even imagine the look on your face when you found out. 

“How is she?” Jeongin asked quietly. Chris gave Jeongin a sad smile and patted his leg. 

“I think she’s in shock,” he whispered, remembering how he and Seungmin found you. They all sat in silence, not knowing what to say until Seungmin spoke up.  “She’s on the phone with Carter’s sister,” he said quietly. They all nodded, and all that could be heard were the cars outside. Back in your room, you picked up your phone and went to your recent phone calls. You clicked on Peyton’s contact and hit the soeaker button.

“Hey,” she croaked out. She’s been crying for a while. 

“Hey,” you whispered.

“How are you doing?” Peyton asked. You shook your head.

“I don’t know….”

There was silence for a while until Peyton spoke up.

“Do you think you would be able to fly down here next month?” she asked. You shrugged while rubbing your temple. You only flew down for the holidays and usually, you had enough saved for those flights only. Tickets weren’t cheap. 

“Yeah I think I can make it,” you say before Peyton lets out a sigh.

“Okay…I can pick you up from the airport if you’d like,” she offered. 

“Sure, yeah that works.”

This was not happening.

“Okay, I’ll keep you posted,” Peyton said thickly as she hung up. You let your arm fall to the side as you stared at the ceiling. You inhaled deeply and let out a long sigh. You decided to get out of bed and get that coffee that was probably lukewarm by now. The guys all whipped their heads around when they heard your door click. You slowly walked out of your room into the hallway, stopping in the entryway when you saw 8 pairs of eyes looking at you with so much concern. The sight of you was just so sad. You were wearing one of Hyunjin’s sweatpants and Chris’s black hoodie, which wasn’t new, but you looked so small and so lost, something they weren’t used to seeing. Your face had lost all of its color,  like you had just seen a ghost. You suddenly felt so vulnerable, scratching your neck.

“I uh *clears throat* thanks for the coffee, Seungmin,” you say, giving him a shaky smile. 

“No problem…” he says just as quietly. Everyone was still unsure how to approach this situation. Do they mention Carter? Do they act like nothing is wrong? Your hands were shaky, still in a state of shock from the phone call you got not even an hour ago. Minho and Changbin both stood up quickly when they watched you almost drop your mug. At this stage, the boys were nervous you were either going to drop the mug on your foot, spill the hot liquid on your skin, or all of the above. That fear came true when you took a shaky sip of your coffee, the hot liquid spilling out from the sides and hitting your wrists. You made a pained noise as you put the mug down. Minho swiftly walked into the kitchen calmly placed hands on your shoulders and led you to the sink, immediately turning on the cold water. 

Everyone knew you were headstrong, so they weren’t used to seeing you like this. Within your friend group, you were the third oldest, and in times when they needed someone to lean on, it came naturally to you to care for them. Only on a couple of occasions have they seen you upset, like during a sad drama or when you’d laugh so hard tears would spring to your eyes, or when COVID happened and so much was happening, but even then you remained strong for them, and right now you looked like you were on the brink of an anxiety attack.

“Come here,” Minho whispered after turning off the faucet. He walked you into the living room where everyone else was and pulled you into a hug. Your arms hung by your side and your breathing became uneven, but you refused to cry, cause once you cried then it was real. 

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to love, but what happened?” Minho asked carefully.

“Um…car accident?” you said almost as a question but more in disbelief. You heard someone make a pained noise while you stared at the wall.

“I don’t know how…maybe an animal ran out or maybe she was on her phone, I don’t know….but her car ran off the road…and she hit a tree.” No one knew what to say.

“Y/n…were so sorry,” Hyunjin said sadly. As much as you wanted to stay in someone’s embrace, you needed a distraction, something to take your mind off of things. You lifted your head and took a deep breath.

“I’m gonna try to get ahead on my reading, so I can get further in my research paper,” you said as you slowly pulled away from Minho, putting on your best attempt of a smile. Everyone nodded, not sure if they wanted you to be by yourself, but they respected your wishes and watched you retreat to your room. You flipped back and forth between reading and writing for a few more hours until your eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so long. You didn’t know how you were going to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed for an hour, the phone call on replay in your mind. Well shit if you can’t sleep might as well study even more, right? You pulled out your laptop, the bright screen irritating your eyes even further as you started typing when all of a sudden there was a knock at your door.

‘Great, I woke one of the kids up’ you thought to yourself. You went to open the door and there stood the literal sun.

“Hey y/n,” he said sweetly. You gave him a small smile. 

“Hey Lixie, what’s up?” you asked.

"Can't sleep...can I stay with you tonight?" he asked playing with his sleeve. You grinned and pulled him into the room. You got under the blankets, Felix following close behind. You saved your work and put your laptop on your nightstand. You pulled the sweet boy into your arms and closed your eyes.

“Y/n?” He asked quietly. You hummed in response.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered. You ran your fingers through his hair.

“Thanks, Lixie.” He smiled and snuggled even deeper into your side. Felix dozed off in your hold, but you were wide awake. 

At around 7 am, Felix woke up. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stared into your eyes, and by the looks of it, you hadn’t slept a wink. 

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked. You shook your head. 

“My brain wouldn’t let me,” you slightly chuckle. Felix pouted.

“I’m sorry,” he said in his low voice. You gave him a small smile. 

“Thanks for the cuddles Lixie,” you thank Felix as you pat his hand. He smiled and gave you a side hug.

“Anytime,” he said as he squeezed you. 

“Do you want to come to breakfast?” He asked. He figured you probably didn’t have the biggest appetite but he still wanted to ask. You shook your head.

“I’m not hungry, but maybe I’ll come out at some point, I’m gonna keep working on this,” you say, rubbing your eyes and pointing towards your laptop. Felix and patted your shoulder before getting out of bed and leaving your room. In the kitchen, Changbin and Seungmin were cooking. They both turned around when they heard footsteps.

“Morning Lix,” Changbin smiled. Felix gave Changbin the best smile he could, but the older one knew what was going through his head.

“How is she?” he asked quietly. Felix shrugged. 

“She didn’t sleep at all, which I get…I just feel so bad for her,” Felix sighed. They both nodded. 

“I don’t know if she’s still in shock or trying to numb herself but…I mean I know it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet so maybe she is just in shock but *sigh* I don’t know, it’s just hard seeing her that way,” Felix added. Seungmin shook his head.

“I’m sure she was very grateful you stayed with her last night, honey,” Changbin whispered as Felix hid his face further into the older’s neck, Seungmin walking up behind him and scratching his back. If Changbin felt wetness on his skin, he wouldn’t say a word. 

————————————————————————

ahhhhhh nerve wracking! I promise chapter 2 will be more lighthearted. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!❤️

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow

[voca-edits]

Read this before requesting!

Hello and welcome to my little edit blog! You can call me Miku! I enjoy editing and have nothing to do with what I edit so I'll put stuff here occasionally. I also take requests! Please forgive me if I'm slow with answering requests, this is my first time running a blog like this. ^^;;

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Thank you for visiting, have a lovely day!

[cactus-cuddler]

Peter Quill

TYPE OF BOYFRIEND

!femreader

◇ When he is angry with you he find to don't let it be noticed, he thinks is him the problem and he doesn't want to lose you. So when you try to apologise to him it would go like this:

"Babe I am sorry... I didn't mean to criticize your favorite song. I was wrong." you say with a slowly voice.

"No, you don't. I buy you some chocolate from Earth... human girls usually love it!" he says handing you a box of chocolates.

"It wasn't necessary... I know I made you angry. When Rocket criticized a song you loved, you said that you will remove him from your friends list if he hadn't apologized!" You tell him trying to get him to accept your apology.

"But Rocket is Rocket. You're my whole life." He says putting the box of chocolates down to take your hands.

"Do you think I should thank you after this?" says Rocket who was watching the whole scene. He had bet Drax that after your criticism he would leave you while Drax claimed that Peter would close his eyes.

"I deserve these!" Rocket says taking the box of chocolates. Peter tries to stop him but you hold him back and kiss him: "what have I done to deserve a boy like you?".

◇ he LOVES when you call him Star-lord. No one call him like this so when you use that nickname you remind him of his mom. The first time you call him Star-lord it probably went like this:

It was your first official date. Peter organized a romantic dinner for you (unsuccessfully, I mean... it is Peter in the end): he asked Groot to grow bright flowers in your favorite color, he made your favorite dish and he kidnapped your favorite singer from Earth to have a concert just for you (it was his sister's idea) and he lit some candles. He has never been more proud of himself when he saw your smile. But your smile turns into an angry face:

"Peter Quill you kidnapped a human!" and his answer made you less angry:

"Yeah, just for you my little one".

You had a quiet dinner while talking calmly when you were attacked by a monster.

"Where is our teammate?" you ask terrified and looking for your weapons.

"There is a little problem..."

meanwhile

"I am Groot"

"Yeah Groot, We really needed this holiday away from Peter"

"Where we are?"

"On Earth, idiot! You don't listen the plan? We must not make it clear that a human has been kidnapped"

"Are you saying that it's just us two here!?"

"It's an exaggeration to say that there's only us... there's the spaceship, the ground, the sky, a singer fainted from fear under the makeshift stage..."

You hid under the table because Peter is convinced that if you don't see the monster the monster won't see you. And that was it (you weren't expecting it actually) and he went away. You decided to go for a walk holding hands and while you watch the sunset you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I think I love you"

"I think I love too..."

"What do people say on these occasions?" he asks, looking you in the eyes.

"I love you my Star-lord" and then he kisses your lips.

"I love that name on your lips"

"Why do you love that name?" you ask with a smile and your lips are still close

"My mother used to call me with it" he says soflty and a tear falls on his cheek and you wipe it away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to remind you..."

"I'm not crying from sadness, I'm happy because I found a beautiful and sweet girl just like her" after he kisses you again. This time for longer.

◇ He would almost never call you by your name (not that he has forgotten it of course... but just to be safe don't ask him). He uses cute nicknames for every occasion like:

sweetheart

Honey bun

Cutie pie

Pumpkin: only for Halloween

Bunny

Little one

At first it embarrassed you but as time went on you started to love them and maybe you could start using them for him too... who knows how he would react.

"My sweetheart can you please give me my shirt?"

"Yeah bu- how did you call me?" he says and his cheeks turn red with embarrassment and he starts to stutter.

"Sweetheart... you don't like it?"

"I love it but I'm the one with the nicknames!"

"I can't use it?"

"Of course you can,” he says chuckling "repeat it"

"Sweetheart?" his smile gets even bigger and he walks over to you and hugs you tightly.

"You'll make me die from too much sweetness one day."

Thanks to @aidansloth for correcting the bad mistakes I make! I'm not good at English so excuse me. I hope you enjoy them!♡

[milks-thoughts]

Rottmnt x human sister reader, splinter decides she should go to a human high school so she could be around her own kind and learn more. And the bros are all pretty protective over this and are worried about her being in human school.

I’m trying out a new header style! Tell me if you enjoy it or if I should go back to the color strips!

Summary: Reader goes to school, hell ensues

TW: vomiting, a nasty panic attack in a public space, talk of animals insides

Notes: anyone mentioned in this that isn’t from Rise is an oc of mine! Please don’t use them in any works without explicit permission

Study Sessions

You stared at your father as he called a family meeting, usually, these go horribly wrong. Especially as of recently, when your father decided that you, the youngest and the only girl (other than your older sister, April) should go to school…and not the school Donnie and (as of recent) Draxum have been teaching. No, human school. A human high school. You sat down at the table and hugged your knees to your chest, Donnie leaning on the wall, Raph and Leo sitting in the chairs and Mikey sitting on the counter. Splinter smiled but before he could speak Red spoke “ Pops- if this is about school I’m sure Donnie could teach her about algebra and..whatever else human kids learn! “ Donnie snarked “ I could teach her rocket science! “ Splinter nodded “ I’m sure you could purple but, she needs to be with other humans, learn to socialize “ you looked away as he slid papers on the table “ April’s parents did me a favor and enrolled her with Casey Jr! “ you felt doom and anxieties cloud your chest, you took the papers and read it, the papers were illegal documents that Donnie made…you read through each line before getting your schedule. How fun. It was seven classes a day with each class being an essential skill…apparently. What I’m the actual fuck is Home Ec.

The next few weeks came quicker than anticipated. Donnie made you and Casey matching bracelets, they were emergency bracelets (ignoring that your ninpō could just…tell them if something was wrong). And of course they were genius tech! He was making an empire after all! You did clothes shopping with April and also learned how to be socially acceptable with not only April's help, but also Sunita…and finally, the dreaded day. You and Casey stood shoulder to shoulder and stared at the high school, it was bustling, a few interesting faces but mostly everyone already knew each other. There was a larger group, of about seven people. You noted how one had a pretty sapphire necklace and a prosthetic arm that was so fluid it rivaled Donnie’s own he made for Leo. You gave Casey a hopeful smile and walked into the high school, you were immediately overstimulated. Going from a rather empty sewer to a high school was anxiety filling. A blonde haired girl bumped into you, when you turned to apologize for being in her way she immediately apologized. She was probably 5 '6 with sea green eyes and blonde hair “ my names Nyssa, you two seem a bit lost- do you need some help? “ Casey immediately nodded, Nyssa smiled and held out her hand “ oh right! They/Them! "Oops. You smiled and spoke your name, Casey following your lead. Nyssa led you two to your first class “ Your schedules are exactly the same, I didn’t know they could do that. You may get separated when testing comes up, you could be boosted into honors or lowered to just skills class “ Nyssa stopped at the first door. How amazing, math at 8 AM.

When the class finished you saw the white haired boy meet up with a brown haired girl with a tiger eye brooch. All the jewelry you’ve been seeing was very similar to Sunitas cloaking device, the brown haired girl seemed to be a senior based on how old she looked and sounded. You smiled and led Casey to your other classroom. Science.. how lovely, you knew you’d get this fine. Casey had a bit less of knowledge than you, they didn’t exactly have a need for schooling in the apocalypse. While you…well your brain has been nurtured by your older brother since the both of your youth. You could speak four different languages fluently, you could do some math that college students learn, you could do most things. Your biggest problem? American history. You learned Japanese history, your father telling you myths and legends that he learned. And you knew a bit of history from China. A sudden electrical feeling ran through you and Casey, it was simply a blue warmth, less like a fire or a sun and more like an electric heat. You were more than happy to welcome it into your ninpō, walking with it through your science class. It was simple biology, you slept through most of it with Casey and answered any questions sent your way. It left soon after second period and left you alone during third.

Then it was time for your language class…you spoke flawlessly, holding a full conversation with the teacher in Spanish before halfway switching to Japanese to see if the teacher could too. He couldn’t. Casey suddenly spoke up next to you and you turned, the two of you happily chattering in Japanese, sometimes clicking at each other before you realized that was weird, so you continued in Japanese. Yes, both you and Casey are fluent in the “ turtle language “ but shhh that doesn’t matter. Language class moved quickly and then off to fourth. You met Nyssa again, they said hello as you sat down next to Casey in biology. It was announced that you’ll be dissecting something. When you questioned what the teacher smiled “ oh! we’ll be dissecting something super exciting tomorrow, a red eared slider! “ you felt queasy. Quickly shooting up your hand to ask for the restroom, you sped off and found yourself emptying your stomach in the school hallway, a trash can in your hold, your ninpō going crazy and altering not only all of your brothers of your panicking but also a feeling…someone who was spewing mystic energy somewhere in this school, and no, it wasn’t Draxum. His mystic powers felt a certain…way. It wasn’t long before Casey found you and rubbed your back. The feeling of Raphs sturdy ninpō wrapping around your panicking one helped calm you down. You breathed and wiped your mouth with a sanitary wipe Donnie was demanding you keep with you. Slowly you and Casey went back to class, you still looked clammy and jumpy as you sat down and looked anywhere but the board that was a display of snapping turtles insides, Casey was holding it together, but barely. Like an overstuffed suitcase. The bell soon rang after that.

You made your way to lunch where you spoke to Draxum a bit and then was swept away by Nyssa. Brought to a table with the same few interesting people you’ve seen that day. When you really got closer to them, most of the jewelry was spewing mystic energy…cloaking devices. The brown haired senior was named Bellezza, there was a tan girl with short curly hair and a seal coat named Öskra, a blonde senior with blue eyes named River, she had a opal gemstone in a choker on her neck. A brown haired girl named Ésme who shared a ruby ring with the white haired boy (whom you learned was named Mason) and was the only one who didn’t buzz with mystic energy. And the last person, a black haired boy with burgundy eyes named Alexander, he had a garnet bracelet on. They all seemed to be able to pick up on your free flowing ninpō, and how it was prickling from previous panic. You were stuck close to Casey as you rested through lunch, your ninpō reaching and searching for two in particular. One that kind of felt like Mc Donald’s sprite and the electrical warmth. They both responded immediately, their ninpōs like two cats curling around a scared kitten. Your ninpō is the metaphorical kitten.

You didn’t eat lunch that day, moving into fifth period, ELA. The teacher gave you a free period and you simply slept. Your lashes attached to your cheek before you woke up with a startled noise, your eyes wide before looking up. There was your purple clad brother, staring at you as you looked at the ceiling tiles. You glared at him, before looking around and getting yourself into the roof quickly “ what are you doing here?! “ you hissed “ I’m just seeing how my dear sister is doing! and if this school is really better than my teachings! '' you sighed “ it’s super easy right now- “ Donnie laughed “ of course it is! He said confidently “ you smiled at your brother and sighed “ How’s everyone holding up at home? '' Donnie hummed “ Nardo has been fighting Raph to not just portal in this school and hunt you down. I didn’t let him come! “ you stared at him dead panned “ and you can? '' Donnie stared and then slowly backed away into the shadows of the dusty air vent. You dropped down quietly after that and slipped back into your seat, knocking dust off yourself. The bell rang again…god you were tired of that damn bell. Time for sixth period.

Next was a world history class. The teacher had turtles as a class pet, you were immediately drawn to them. Casey watched as you quietly chirped and rumbled at them. The turtles craning their heads closer to you as you made noises at them, their quiet voices responding. You quickly scampered to your seat, far away from Casey. Squished between two boys that made your ninpō scream and demand you return to Casey’s side, anxieties pulling your brain into mush. The teacher put on a video about ancient Egyptian mythology. Stuff you already knew. Your eyes grew heavy as you fell asleep, halfway through your rest the sound of a large bang startled you awake.

You whipped back with a noise and fell out of your chair. Backing up a bit, you didn’t see a classroom. You saw the tunnels, kraang infested as they chased you and your brothers. Raph missing. That was your whole mission, to retrieve your oldest brother. Leo and Casey Jr got separated. Mikey and Donnie hid in the tank. Leaving you, to get stolen away. You fumbled and looked around for something, anything to fight the kraang. Someone grabbed your arm and you started hitting it, the arm didn’t relent, it was softly pulling you away from the tunnel. The whole…incident… was traumatic for you. any really, everyone. You, Casey, Raph, and Leo got the nastiest of the flashbacks. The yokai therapist that the family got said they were classified as panic attacks. Even as the soft arms pushed you to the floor you continued hitting and thrashing, pausing when the feeling of something wrapping around your ninpō entered your brain. Your body is basically shocked to real life. Casey was holding you by your arms, you had hot tears running down your face and hurt vocal cords. You stared at him and blinked before letting out a quiet sob and leaning forward, him just holding you throughout the entirety of sixth period.

You guys didn’t go to seventh period. You just sat in the corner of a hallway and breathed, at some point the same blonde senior, River, came and sat down with you two. And after that? Mason, the albino boy, and Bellezza the senior with auburn hair joined her. They were all siblings, Casey theorized that they were wolf yokai based on how they flocked like a pack. Seventh period ended quickly, when April came to get you guys she immediately noticed the tense mood from you two, walking back to the sewers…she could only wonder how the brothers would react. When the three of you walked in, Raph was the first to notice you being back, he looked at your and Casey’s sour faces and lowered his snout so it rested on your head and hugged you, chuffing hard enough your entire body vibrated. You made small similar noises, but they were weak and halfhearted. Raph was so worried about what happened to you at school. Leo and Donnie soon returned to the main area and joined the upwards cuddle session, Casey and April being pulled into it as they all wrapped around Raph to feel his churrs, Mikey soon attaching to Raphs shells and starting to chur as well, you forgot how amazing it felt to be held like this. You took off your cloaking device and the scars that were hidden from the public eye became known. Oh how much they wanted to ask about school, why your ninpō wailed in pain, why your chirps that normally sounded so nice were half hearted and deflated

[takenbypeter]

hi! LOVE your wonka work! wondering if I could ask a wonka fic where wonka is looking for y/n so him, noodle, and y/n can go sell chocolate. Wonka finds y/n having a panic attack in some kind of secluded area or smth bc she didn't want to show/tell any of her friends? and then Wonka helps her through it (breathing together, using pure imagination, etc)? then after she's calmed down Noodle walks in with them and they kinda have like a brother-sister-sister moment together :) up to youuu!

Support

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 606

“Oh god I can’t do this,” you whispered eyes peeking from around the corner at the crowd bustling through the galleria.

You know you were the one to ask in joining Mr.Wonka in selling chocolates today along with Noodle. But now, seeing all the exhausted, angry, tired faces as people passed in the streets you suddenly realized you sort of miss all the laundry.

It wouldn’t be all so bad if they were all strangers, however, some of these people you saw just about everyday. Whether it be at the bank, or the store, these were people you saw in your daily life, and you were not a people person. You were not a crowd person. You were a—I’m not going to bother anyone and keep my head down—sort of person.

Genuinely you didn’t think you were going to react this badly. You felt fine when you’d agreed the evening before, but of course you this morning you felt slight nerves, however, that was nothing compared to the flips your stomach was doing now.

Taking one last peek you quickly ducked back, putting a hand to your chest to control your breathing that was starting to feel unnatural.

Taking a breath you heard a voice cry out, “are you here?”

Wonka.

He was calling your name. You wanted to gain the chocolatier’s attention with the least amount of attraction but your body was no longer listening to your brain as you were glued to the wall.

But luckily he spotted you as he was just about to pass the alleyway.

As he approaches you fervently shake your head back and forth, “too many people. Too many faces. I can’t do it,” you breathe out finding your breath coming out a little bit shorter than desired.

He bends in front of you trying to meet your eyes, but you shut them, “hey look at me,” he says voice low and calm, and you do as told opening them only to be met with his big chocolate colored eyes.

“Hey just breathe for me, can you do that?”

It looks like you’re unable to, prompting him to reach down finding your hand and holding it in his, “just breathe in,” he demonstrates, “and out,” he exhales. He does this a few more times and you follow along, your breathes slowing to a more consistent pace.

“This,” he says head jabbing towards the crowd, “this job looks easy but it’s not always so. After the nerves settle and more time is spent on each sell, it becomes easier almost like second nature. But you know what helped me the most?” He asked waiting for a response.

Unable to even give the question much thought you shake your head in a much more controlled manner this time, “a good support system. I didn’t do everything alone, I had a good support system. And now, we’ll be each other’s support system. I promise you, you don’t have to do this alone,” he releases your hand and holds his own up with his pinky out almost as if to say he pinky swears without actually saying the words, “we’ll do it together.”

Hand reacting to his you reach up looping your inner around his.

Right when your hands meet, Noodle runs up. “There you are guys, is everything alright?” She asks no doubt curious as to why your fingers were intertwined.

“Yes everything’s perfect,” you announce turning your attention away from Willy and to her, “let’s go sell some chocolate.”

You know it’s not going to be easy but like Willy said, with a good support system you can do anything.

[profound-imagination]

Finding Home - Eris Vanserra

A/N - I love Eris and I hope we get more of him in the next book.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Must you antagonize them?" You sighed at Eris as you stood in between his legs, cleaning the blood off his face after he'd pushed the Shadowsingers patience and gotten his ass beat. He gave you a blood covered toothy smile. "It's all part of my charm, sweetness." You rolled your eyes. "It's all part of your stupidity, sweetness." You threw back at him. He laughed and cringed in pain. "Got some broken ribs there?" You smirked as you asked him the question. "Stop enjoying this so much, Y/N! I was attacked!" It was your turn to laugh. "You did this to yourself, you knew what you were doing when you baited him and you were arrogant enough to think you could take him! You also deserved it."

You closed your eyes as you let out a sigh. "I know you don't mean it, I know this is the role you play, but it hurts to watch." He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm sorry sweetness, I didn't mean to upset you." You pulled yourself out of his grasp. "I just wanted to see my sisters." You said sadly, the war was over, Nesta was Cassian's mate, Elain was fawning over Azriel and Feyre had a son. You missed them and you never thought Nesta would leave you alone in your anger, but she did. "And I ruined it?" He asked, you shook your head. "You didn't ruin anything, they're still mad I chose to come with you, that I chose you and freedom over the shackles of the Night Court, but your little fight didn't help." His hands found a home on your hips. "If they're mad at you for doing what was best for you, If they're mad that you wouldn't let the Night Court snuff out your fire, then it's their problem, what they don't want to see thanks to my reputation is that you aren't a prisoner, that you can visit them at any time and I for one am over the moon that you chose me." You rested your forehead against his. "If they cared at all, they wouldn't have ever made me choose." He placed a small kiss on your nose. "No, they wouldn't have."

You smiled at the male who had pulled you out while you were drowning as he slid off of the counter in the bathing chamber and walked towards the bedroom, peeling off his bloodied shirt to find a fresh one, and a blush crawled across your cheeks as you watched the muscles in his back, gods he was beautiful and a tease. You were falling for the red head and you had been since you'd met him, but other than a few little kisses, you'd never let it go any further.

He'd watched you struggling with living in the Night Court during and after the war and just as you were about to drown he'd offered you an out, one that your sisters, Rhys and the rest of them were furious about. "You don't have to stay here Y/N." He said casually as Rhys shot to his feet alongside Feyre. "There's other Court's, there's a whole world to explore." Rhys snorted. "You think she'll survive in Autumn?" He'd spat at Eris, who's face morphed into a grin. "I know she would." He turned back to you. "It's up to you, you can stay here and drown, live under your sisters shadows or you can come with me and explore a whole new world." He offered his hand to you as Rhys took a step forward and grabbed your arm, you looked from the Lordling to the High Lord. "Take your hands off me, Rhysand." He didn't move. "Feyre, get your mate to unhand me or I'll make him." Your eyes narrowed as you looked at your sister, she said nothing, at least, not out loud and Rhys let go of your arm as you faced Eris again. "I need to get my things and my books." He smiled at you. "Sweetness, I'll build you a whole damn library if that's what you want." You took his hand and he'd winnowed you out before anyone could react. It was the first time he'd called you sweetness and he'd never stopped, your knees went weak everytime.

You took in your surroundings, you stood in a clearing, deep in the forests of Autumn, the colors around you were magnificent, and you looked back to Eris who was suppressing a laugh at your wonderment. "It's beautiful." You breathed, he came to stand behind you. "It's home." He'd said as he pointed out the beautiful log cabin that stood at the far end of the clearing." You smiled and repeated his words "It's home." You grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards the cabin. You'd never been scared of the red headed male with a terrible attitude, you'd been drawn to him from the start. He'd told you this was only one of the safe houses Eris owned throughout Autumn, somewhere his father didn't know about. Anything you wanted or needed to make the cabin feel like home he got for you, he'd leave during the day to attend to his father and his duties within Autumn, he'd bought his dogs to stay with you and all the books you could ever want, so your days were filled with reading and playing in the clearing with the dogs and your evenings were filled with him, he taught you history, told you stories of growing up, his littlest and favourite brother and you quickly picked up that his childhood wasn't a happy one. You never pushed for more information. If he left the Court, he took you with him, making good on his promise to show you everything. In the weeks you'd spent with him you'd learned that he wasn't what he was made out to be, he wasn't the monster that Mor, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel had made him out to be. He was respectful, you had your own bedroom and bathroom and he'd never once tried anything with you as much as sometimes you'd wanted him too, but you knew if anything were to happen, you'd have to be the instigator.

A month and a half had passed when you crossed a line. Fueled by Fae wine, Eris was trying to teach you how to dance, something that had always been Nesta's forte. Your head felt light and you were dizzy from him spinning you around the living room in a space he had cleared of furniture, the dogs watching you sleepily from the sofa and armchairs they had claimed as their own for the evening. "I'm hopeless at this!" You giggled as you span yourself away from him towards the coffee table where your wine was sitting, you took a couple of gulps of the sweet wine and placed your glass back down as he took your wrist and span you back into his chest.

"Stand on my feet." He told you, you shot him an incredulous look but did it anyway and your giggling started up again as he danced the pair of you around the room. "Who'd have guessed, the heir of the Autumn Court had a soft spot for dancing." He laughed "Don't tell anyone!" You smiled at him. "I'll be our secret!" How long you'd danced on his feet for you weren't sure, you giggled again and closed your eyes as he pulled you down onto the sofa the dogs hadn't occupied with him, landing on his chest, when you opened them you realised how close your face was to his, your eyes shot from his to his lips, he watched you do it, a smirk formed on his lips, you watched it happen. "Are you going to kiss me, sweetness?" He teased. "I was thinking about it." You sassed back as you pulled yourself off of him and went to walk away. He sat up and grabbed your wrist. "Don't look at me like that and then walk away." He said as he pulled you back to him, so you were straddling his lap. You gasped, shocked, not expecting him to pull you back but it was cut off when his lips met yours gently. He pulled back slightly to search your face for any kind of regret, there was none, you kissed him again, harder this time.

"Sweetness, are you listening?" His voice pulled you out of your memories. He laughed at you. "I said we need to get ready for dinner." You groaned. "Do we have to go?" You asked, despite the war being over the alliance meetings still took place between all the Court's and as you looked at Eris your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him, stood like some kind of God, trousers undone, no shirt, he caught you looking and smirked. "See something you like?" You stood and walked over to him and placed a searing kiss on his mouth. "I'll get ready." You said as you walked away. "Tease!" He called behind you.

Looking in the mirror in front of you, you couldn't help but be proud of yourself. You'd done a fabulous job with your hair, curls cascading down your back and the front pieces pinned back and your makeup was flawless. Eris had gifted you the most beautiful gown of Autumn Court red you'd ever seen, nicer even than the ones Rhys' mother had made for Feyre. You slipped on your shoes and walked back into the bedroom and Eris froze. "You're a vision, sweetness." You couldn't help but blush and you smiled at him. "Thank you for the gown." He smiled back. "You are most welcome, come here?" You walked towards him as he turned to open one of the draws behind him to get something out, he turned back to you and opened the box he was holding. "My mother insisted you wore these with the gown." You gasped, sitting in the box he was holding was a beautiful jewelry set, complete with a circlet. The necklace, bracelets and earrings all consisted of gold and rubies and the circlet was made out of gold leaves. Stunning all of it.

He motioned for you to turn as he handed you the earrings to put in as he placed the necklace on for you. You slid on the bracelets as you turned back to him. "How do I look?" You asked. "Perfect." He responded as he took the circlet out of the box to place on your head. "Only princesses, queen's and my sister wear circlets, Eris." He smiled. "And you, sweetness, you outshine them all." He said as he placed the beautiful circlet on your head and took your hand as you left your borrowed chambers.

Anxiety started to curl in your stomach as you headed towards dinner, having to face your sisters without it being a meeting meant you'd have to converse with them, the bruises on Eris from the fight earlier still very visible on his face but the cuts had healed and he owned them like he was proud of them. You watched him as he walked with you towards dinner, watched your Eris slip away and was replaced with the cocky Lordling he played so well. "Are you ready?" He asked as you approached, you nodded at him.

Your sisters eyes were on you from the second you entered. "Eris, I hope you can behave at dinner?" Thesan questioned and Eris laughed. "I promised Y/N that I would so I will." Thesan smiled at you. "Y/N, you look lovely." You smiled at the High Lord of the Dawn Court. "Thank you." Dinner had gone relatively well, and true to his word, Eris was behaving, although he and Azriel had been seated as far apart as possible, you had been seated opposite Eris and in between Feyre and Nesta, something you were sure Rhys was responsible for, Elain was sat next to Azriel at the other end of the table. "When are you going to stop this nonsense and come home?" Nesta asked you, making no attempt to lower her voice, apparently your dirty laundry was going to get aired in front of everyone now they had finished eating and were drifting away from the table. Eris' eyes shot to you and you smiled to let him know you were fine when Feyre spoke up. "Let's talk on the balcony?" You nodded and followed her out as Nesta led the way and Elain joined the three of you.

You could've cut the tension with a knife. "How's Nyx?" You tried to break the ice by asking about your nephew but Nesta scoffed. "You'd know if you'd stuck around." You didn't react. "I had to leave, I was drowning in Velaris." She rolled her eyes. "You're a coward." Feyre stepped in then. "That's not fair, Nes and Nyx is good, thank you, he's getting so big, you'll have to come and see him soon." She beamed talking about her son and you were happy for her. "If she's even allowed out without him." Nesta spat. "I'm not a prisoner Nesta, I can come visit whenever I want." She rolled her eyes. "You've crawled into bed with an enemy, you betrayed your family and who knows what secrets you've been telling that asshole, he's not a good male Y/N." You could feel the anger burning through you. "Enemy? He's your ally! You don't know him, Nesta, or what it cost him when he joined you in the war or even what it cost him when he did what he did with Mor. Don't talk about him like that!" She scoffed again.

"He left Mor for dead! He asked to marry me after one dance! He's using you for information! You watch, as soon as you tell him all you know, he'll leave you!" Tears started burning in your eyes. "No he's not. He wouldn't." It came out weaker than you wanted it too. Nesta looked at you and barked out a laugh. "Oh my gods, you've fallen for it haven't you, you love him?" You didn't answer and Feyre placed a gentle hand on your arm. "Rhys is worried he's using you, we all are." You couldn't believe them. "Why do you all get to be happy? You and Rhys, Nesta and Cassian, whatever the hell Elain has going on with Azriel despite the fact she has a mate but you all take issue when I'm happy." Your tears had started to fall. "Is it because he's not from the Night Court?" They didn't answer. "Go back to the party, I'm done with this conversation. I am home. In Autumn." Nesta sneered as she walked away with Elain. "Traitor."

"Do you really love him?" Feyre asked quietly from next to you. "Yes." She nodded. "Have you told him?" You shook your head. "Please just come home, I can talk to Rhys about letting Eris visit and-" You cut her off. "I'm staying with him, Feyre, where he goes, I go." She nodded and walked away, you walked the length of the balcony before you found a corner hidden away from the party and you let yourself cry freely.

You heard Eris before you saw him, calling your name, he cut himself off when he spotted you, crouching down to meet your eyes. "Sweetness, what's wrong?" He asked, swiping your tears away with his thumb. "They said I'm a traitor, that you aren't a good male, that you asked for Nesta's hand and therefore Rhys is concerned you're just using me for information on the Night Court." He pulled you to your feet and turned on his heel to head back in, he was about to make a scene and you knew it and you rushed behind him. He was already in Rhys' face when you'd made it inside, flames dancing on his hands. "How dare you fill her head with rubbish about how I'm using her!" Eris roared. He pointed a flaming finger at Nesta. "How dare you call her a traitor and make her cry!" He looked at them all. "You all act like I stole her away, she had a choice, she's always had a choice! Are we forgetting you quite literally stole your High Lady from her wedding?" Rhys stiffened. "That was different! Feyre was screaming to be rescued down the mating bond!" Eris didn't miss a beat. "So was Y/N!" Silence filled the room, you could've heard a pin drop. Your mouth fell open into a shocked 'O' as your sisters eyes shot to you.

Mate, mate mate. You were his mate. He was your mate. Suddenly it all made sense, the pull you felt towards him from the start, everything. You looked up at him but his eyes were still locked onto Rhys. Azriel grasped your arm in an attempt to get you out of the room. "Get your hands off of my mate, Shadowsinger, it's bad enough you're all over my brother's, you will not touch mine." Eris spat at Az without even turning around to look at him, Azriel let your arm go as the two of you watched the flames dance up from Eris' hands to now cover his forearms as well. You stepped forward, towards him, towards your mate and you felt it then, in your chest, the bond. "Eris" you said quietly as you reached forward to take his hand. "Don't!" Rhys warned you with a shout but you'd already taken hold of it, the flames extinguishing immediately at your touch. "Eris, let's go, please?" He looked down at you and met your sad eyes with his own angry ones. "Take me home?" You asked, he leveled everyone with a glare as he pulled you into his chest and winnowed you to the cabin.

As soon as you were home he started to pace, anger still simmering in his blood. You could feel it through the bond. The dogs gathered around your feet as the thirteen of you watched him, muttering to himself as he went. You sent a feeling of adoration down the bond and he froze in place when he felt it and you walked to stand in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his automatically wrapping around your waist, you kissed him, once, twice, three times and said "Thank you for defending me…mate." He groaned or maybe he growled you weren't sure. "Say it again, I liked it." You smirked. "You're my mate Eris Vanserra, mine."

[shadowqueenjude]

Tamlin's villain origin story part 8

Feyre makes a last-ditch attempt to muster up allies against Tam Tam and company!

Feyre’s POV Feyre got dressed up in preparation for a meeting with Thesan, the High Lord of Dawn. Given that the solar courts generally got along well enough, and Day was already accounted for, Thesan was their best bet.

She would be going alone this time, owing to the fact that Cassian and Azriel were both occupied. There was trouble in the Illyrian camps; they were going crazy, claiming females had just sprouted wings out of nowhere and were attacking them with faebane dart guns. It all sounded crazy to Feyre, but Devlon was dead, so it was obviously serious. Mor was in Vallahan, desperately trying to secure an alliance for the Night Court, and Amren was with Varian, trying to convince other members of Tarquin's court to ally with them against their High Lord's bidding.

She had worn a gold and red dress to match the Dawn court sky. As she winnowed into Dawn, she again admired the gentle glow of the place. She smiled at the guards at the door as they let her into golden palace of Thesan.

Thesan smiled at Feyre easily. “Feyre Cursebreaker.”

She hadn’t heard that nickname in a while. “Thesan.” She smiled at him. The most welcome reception she had received so far.

“Shall we?” Thesan waved to a servant, who came back with a pleasant-smelling drink. “It’s saffron tea,” Thesan said. “Go on. Try it.”

Feyre assented, taking a sip. It was incredible. She moaned without thinking and finished the entire thing within a few minutes. Thesan appraised her, amused. Feyre blushed.

“Sorry,” Feyre muttered.

Thesan just smiled. “If you enjoy it so much, you ought to take some back with you to Velaris.” Feyre giggled. “Maybe I will.”

It took her several moments for her to register the words Thesan had said.

Velaris. Velaris.

Thesan knew.

Feyre stood up, opening her mouth to say Cauldron knew what when somebody grabbed her arm and pulled her against a hard body. Within seconds, a knife was at her throat.

“Hello, Feyre,” Tamlin purred. Feyre tried to winnow out of his reach but found her magic had abandoned her.

“Oh, that tea was laced with faebane, sweetheart,” Thesan said. “You should probably watch what you drink." From the shadows, Tarquin, Helion, and Elain all appeared. Four High Lords in one room with her sister. “If you’re wondering where the others are,” Tamlin whispered low in her ear like a lover, “they’re with your little friends. Nesta and the Illyrian females, armed with the Cauldron, were enough to handle your dogs. He smiled against her ear. “Lucien went after Mor, Eris after Amren. The Court of Nightmares has thrown a rebellion and wrecked your army.”

Feyre’s face drained of color. Tamlin sighed. “I was wondering what I did that was so bad that you would ditch me for the Night Court of all the courts. I finally realized- nothing. You became Rhysand’s creature. You became everything you fought against. You got countless innocent people killed. You stole and whored and murdered and felt no regrets. You glorified in it, in oppressing others. You abused Lucien’s friendship and made excuses for it. Breaking Ianthe’s arm didn’t erase everything you did to him. I was most astonished by the fact that you didn’t even seem to care. You blocked out anyone who tried to tell you you’re wrong. And that’s when I realized- the girl I fell in love with died under the Mountain. And the male you fell in love with died the moment I realized that.”

Feyre couldn’t move an inch, each word from Tamlin sinking into her very bones.

“Revenge isn’t my typical style,” Tamlin continued. “But somebody had to teach you a lesson. And who better than the one you humiliated the most?”

No no no no-

“Checkmate, Feyre darling,” Tamlin crooned mockingly. A mockery, an insult of what Rhysand had called her. Every last fucking detail, he had recalled. His observation was even better than she had expected.

Feyre couldn’t do anything but stand there; she lost track of time as hands shackled her in magic shackles, as they shoved her into a prison cell, as a part of her registered Azriel, Cassian, Amren, and Mor in separate cells. Tamlin had won. And he had done it without killing any of them. Rhysand had idiotically sacrificed himself, and the rest of them were now in chains.

“Don’t worry; the Night Court will be in safe hands. It’s going to be led by Lucien’s friend Nuan in tandem with the leader of the Illyrian rebels, Emerie.” It was Elain who fed her the words. “You’re probably wondering how we knew where your friends would be. That would be because of Nuala and Cerridwen. They’re my friends, you see. Their loyalty was to me, not you.” Elain looked down at her with pity on her face but did not attempt to support her, defend her, or break her out. Perhaps that was because she had chosen Lucien after all.

A part of her couldn’t help but think death would’ve been better than this humiliation. Feyre leaned against the wall of her jail cell and stared at nothing. The end! Hope you enjoyed reading about evil Tam Tam as much as I enjoyed writing about him! I really feel like it would be more savage and in character for Tamlin to let them live and force them to live with their humiliation. The revenge story we all needed!