#its not me limiting your options it's just me saying to not feel guilt if you choose to do one or the other

[moshieee]

Surprise!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You have found. . .

A decently sized box inside your inbox. It seems to be a present of some sort

There is a little folded paper that says: “To Moshieee From GlitchyK”

When you open it up, it has a small drawing/doodle/outline of QOTR Pomni, the text says.

“Hey Moshieee, I know I didn’t need to get you anything, and it’s somewhat random, but I figured I would!”

Ps: “Totally not why I asked for your favorite tadc character so I could draw it in the AU you inspired me to make… totally…”

You choose to. . .

Open the box

Save it for later

Don’t open at all

Send back

Oh this is darling thank you this is such a kind gesture and I love the drawing

It still surprises me that I managed to inspire someone to make an au...

I think a gift is just what I need after my last class

(I would love to open the box)

[lavender-romancer]

Fools

Part One Tommy Shelby x male reader CW: internalised homophobia, sexual themes

There was a secret you had always kept about yourself, only giving yourself to strangers and being yourself in the shadows. You were a fool to think that anything but hurt feelings and betrayal would be the result.

AN: Tommy is not married to Lizzie and Ruby does not exist

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

The chance meeting of Thomas Shelby took the wind out of your chest. A man who was so unencumbered by guilt, that he did as he pleased and didn't care what other thought of him.

As you sat in a gentlemen's club in London, you were taken by a stranger that looked like he could, and would charm any person. He looked so familiar but you couldn't place him. His eyes looked so full of something, it wasn't life or even sadness but something behind his eyes made it hard to look away. You hadn't noticed how much you were staring until he began walking to you.

"Can I get you a whisky?" He asked and you paused, choosing your words.

"Yes, thank you." You turned back to the bar and looked down at your drink.

"Now you find it hard to reach my gaze?" He asked and you sensed a hint of humor.

"I'm sorry, I was just admiring," you paused. "Your tie. Chosen by your wife, I assume?" You asked.

"I have no wife," he said before finishing his own whisky.

"Ah, me neither," you said quietly. "What business are you in?"

"Betting and alcohol, I'm also an MP ." As he said it you realised that was why you thought you knew him.

"Mr Shelby? I think I remember now." You nodded and took a swig of whisky.

"Thomas, please. And you are?" Thomas asked.

"Y/n," you have him a small smile.

"What brings you to London?" He asked with the hint of a smile.

"Business, I'm looking for some new suppliers and wanting to see the competition down here." You leant your elbow on the bar.

"Hmm, what business are you in?" Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette and holding the case out to you from which you took one.

"Gun manufacturing. It's a family business from before the war but in my control now." Tommy's eyes seemed to perk up at the mention of that.

"I'm looking into buying a gun manufacturing warehouse or shares in an existing company." His eyes felt like they were staring into your soul, a constant and never ending pressure to say the right thing.

"I could always advise you, if you're interested." You said staring into his eyes. He took out his cigarette and in one movement drank the rest of his whisky with his eyes never leaving yours. The fact you found his scent of alcohol and cigarettes so enticing worried you slightly. You wanted to be near him.

"I'll take you up on that offer." You said quietly, he took out a business card and wrote down something on it before handing it to you.

"Use that word and I'll know it's you." Tommy stood up and straightened his coat, you could only stare up at him in awe of his beauty.

"I intend to, Mr Shelby." You let a small smile tug at your lip before he turned and left.

Everyday it seemed harder to resist calling the number Tommy gave you. Not that you didn't want to, but what did it mean? What would be the end result of all of this without hurting the both of you? Regardless, the sexual tension brought up even in that brief interaction with the Brummie had made you incapable to stop thinking about his form: his strong shoulders, his overpowering demeanor, beautiful eyes and… fuck. You'd given yourself a boner at the mere mental conception of him.

You found yourself at an underground nightclub prolific for its police raids and promotion of 'solicitation and sodomy' as the papers put it. But your options were limited to intense unhappiness with a woman, repression or risking being arrested to feel some kind of affection. The more you drank the more you were willing to forget the man next to you wasn't Thomas Shelby. You began to imagine him here, in a dark room surrounded by cigarette smoke, walking over to you and pushing you into a wall before doing whatever he wanted.

Regardless of what Tommy really thought of you, he had awakened something in you that couldn't be denied. He was in your every thought and simultaneously the focus point of your dreams. It was almost ridiculous.

Your unconscious thoughts wouldn't let you forget him, every time you saw a man in a peaked cap that night you'd make a b-line for him. Kissing every man you could find with any possible aesthetic connection to Thomas. You even drank more whisky than usual that night, to remind you of his unmistakable scent of spirits and smoke.

As you walked through to another room of the club holding a cigarette in your mouth you were amazed to see what was in front of you. The unmistakable form of Thomas Shelby was sitting in a booth, whisky in hand as he kissed a smaller man sitting on his lap. You honestly had to open and close your eyes a few times before believing it. Going back to the bar you had two small vodkas before grimacing and walking back into the next room, seeing Tommy sitting alone in the booth you sat across the room, facing him. Lighting a cigarette you stared at him, in an alcohol infused confidence, with a goal of gaining his attention.

It didn't take long for Thomas to feel your eyes on him, he slightly turned his head and saw you. Tie hanging loose around your neck, three buttons undone on your shirt as you almost seductively sat smoking a cigarette directly staring at him. Tommy didn't know if this was some type of power play but either way he was aroused. The dark lighting and alcohol fuelled excitement of the wordless interaction made him want to pull you close.

Tommy stood up and your heartbeat quickened as your chest got tighter, heat rising to your chest the closer he got. He leant down and got close to your ear.

"Come with me." Tommy whispered before turning around and walking away, you quickly got up and followed him. He walked out through a back office and you couldn't help but think he was about to kill you but, the erection in your trousers still persisted regardless of the danger. Tommy sat down in the large green leather desk chair as you stood awkwardly in front of the desk not knowing where to go from here. You instead walked to the small drinks trolley near the desk with your back to Thomas, pouring the two of you a glass of whisky. You'd just finished pouring the second glass when you felt Thomas' presence close behind you. Placing down the bottle of whisky you lent your hands on the trolley, your knees feeling as if they might fail if he touched you.

Tommy's hands began moving up your back and along your shoulders, you could only hear him breathing as you focussed on his touch. His touch only served to excite you more as his hands moved around your waist and up your chest till you could feel his touch on the bare skin of your chest. Tommy moved closer and leant his cheek on your back, arms enclosed around you as his hands rubbed up and down your torso. You slowly moved your hands up to his and began to stroke his arms, attempting to soothe the concerns he had silently laid out for you.

Tommy was gripping you tightly and moved closer until his body was pressed against your back, your hand crossed over your body and began to run through his hair. Comforting the supposedly imposing leader felt almost proper, without a word spoken he had allowed you to be close to him, allowing you into an understanding of trust that only men like you could have.

You slowly began to turn around, Tommy's grip loosening as you turned. His head was bowed, perhaps unable to meet your gaze or consumed by the same shame you felt about yourself. Either way you ran your hand around his body and slowly began kissing his neck. With your other hand you gently pushed his head to the side and kissed up his neck before licking his ear, eliciting a moan from his lips.

There was suddenly a loud noise from outside and the two of you turned your heads towards the door. You both knew that it could be anything but a raid was the most likely so you ran out of the backdoor together. No words were spoken as you walked away from the club but there was an understanding. That you now knew something about the other that wasn't conceivable to others. A secret that was unutterable to another.

"Do you want to come back-" you began and Tommy turned to you before abruptly saying-

"No." He lit a cigarette and began walking off another direction leaving you confused with tears in your eyes.

"Mr Shelby," you called and he turned, looking similarly emotional in his eyes but you doubted he would ever admit it.

"Yes?" He asked in a curt tone that completely juxtaposed the tenderness he had shown you before.

"Shall I call your office, when I return to Birmingham?" You asked hopefully, Thomas took a moment- silently pondering on how much he wanted to see you again accompanied by the everlasting shame- before nodding.

He turned and continued walking away from you. You pulled your tie off your neck and folded it, watching Tommy's figure grow smaller before walking back to your flat.

The events of that night a few weeks ago played over in your mind more than you care to admit. No longer dreamed up intimacy or fantasies about how his touch felt. You could feel his hands on your body, hear his breath and smell his cologne. Everytime you indulged yourself with 'self-satisfaction', you would feel him on your body and be kissing his neck all over again. Tommy existed in your thoughts through every meeting, every phone call, every intoxicated night. It felt so real that you could have been told it was all a dream itself. Maybe it hadn't been him, maybe someone who looked like him. But all you could think about was kissing his neck once more.

It had been around a month before you had the courage to phone his office. The word he had given you was violet. How you were supposed to work that into conversation you didn't know but you had to see him again, even if only for business.

"Shelby company limited, Lizzie speaking, how can I direct you?" The receptionist asked from the other end of the line.

"Good afternoon, I met Mr Shelby in London and we wanted me to set up a meeting to discuss stocks in my gun manufacturing company. I wondered if I could speak to him?" You gripped your elbow with your hand.

"Were you given a business card?" She asked.

"Yes, it was…" you paused. "Violet?" You were so unsure of whether this was the right way to say the word that it almost sounded like a question, after a moment she replied.

"I'll connect you now sir, thank you." You let out a sigh of relief and sat back in your chair.

"Thomas Shelby," his voice said down the line and your lips parted. Hearing his voice elicited a reaction you had never experienced, a complete and immediate tension in your chest at the need to impress him.

"Thomas, it's me." You said quietly and heard silence from the other end.

"We can set up a meeting as soon as you're available," he responded and you worried that what fleeting intimacy transpired between you was just that, fleeting.

"Yes," you paused, feeling as if you might choke up. '"I can have my secretary clear my week to discuss anything of merit. I can be in Birmingham tomorrow if that's too your convenience"

"That sounds appropriate, is two o'clock convenient?" He asked and you audibly sighed before agreeing and putting down the phone.

It felt that once again you had got involved with a man who may be the same way you were but married to a woman, not willing to accept what he was. You had been with so many men that marry women, so many that make you feel like it might be different but, less and less you opened up to the possibility of anything but sex or just ignoring one another outside of being alone. Tommy sounded like the latter, at least it seemed outside of genuine business he would ignore you and what transpired between the two of you.

The following day you were standing at Euston station with your case, frustrated with yourself at this wild fucking goose chase for a man you had met twice. A man who had shown you nothing but contempt outside of wanting comfort. The journey was filled with you reading and trying to not think about the way he touched you. The way his touch made you feel at home.

The pervasiveness of this alienating feeling could have made you consider jumping in front of the very train you were to catch but, it wouldn't be proper. This feeling of eventual rejection was not new and by this point it should have been predicted by you or at least anticipated. At least when you slept with women they didn't make you feel like a mistake or a bad decision made off the cuff. You may not have loved women but you thought you could be close to one and possibly retain a semblance of happiness.

next part Peaky Blinders Taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

[stari-hun]

Since the bestie @anonymocha askedddd, on Madoka Magica wishes I think the best or at least the one to give you a good shot is to wish to be apart of Kyuubey’s hive mind. So to start on the subject of wishes I have to totally infodump about what goes into a wish and what the limits are. The basic rules of a wish follow a sort of alchemic rule to em , give something get something lose something gain another. Whatever wish you make will ultimately be your undoing because even if a being was completely omniscient to everything happening all at once and every action they’ll ever take, they still wouldn’t be able to predict anything because of outside factors. Kyuubey is totally and completely unfeeling, it doesn’t care if the girls live or die. It’s there to study human emotion and found that grief is extremely powerful. Ignoring the plotline that while a ton of preteens are the worst option for child soldiers and that with Homura saying love is more powerful means that in general without genre blindness Kyuubey would be in a reality TV show. Your mental state also effects what witch you become, for instance Madoka’s witch form was different to Gretchen at first however at the regressions she gain [Karmic Destiny] which from my understanding is like what you’ve put in the world that then allows you to take other actions. Any girl in the series gains a metric ton of it because they’re in the center of Homura’s regressions. [Karmic Destiny] is what limits wishes, it’s why magical girls before Madoka weren’t able to wish to erase all despair or witches to save their friends. Generally speaking you can’t wish for something too good because the weight of your soul isn’t filled with enough good. So the solution is to wish for something objectively bad!

In Magia Record and their anime we learn from Isabeau and Ui that Kyubey will 100% lend you its power it doesn’t give a fuck. I raise that the issue with their wishes is they weren’t bad enough to even out the scales, yeah they had the karmic destiny to allow it but I’m a regular live and let live person I’m no saint or scum. So theoretically I’m just not gonna have that same karmic destiny from way or nepo baby or a good heart. So I’m gonna have to wish for something worse but also something I can spin to be good for me or at the least an entertaining run! That’s why my wish would be to integrate into Kyubey’s hive mind cause 1. It’ll answer the extremely fun question of “what happens if a person with DID is possessed? Does the demon pop into headspace or do we fight for dominance?” 2. It’ll be funny , and 3. I’m extremely overconfident that I could take that kind of mental pressure + as an up close and personal way to not only study but experience human emotions. So at worst they’d just make you feel bad as a fuel source so really anyone with a guilt complex and RSD is gonna be fine on that front.

The real worst that can happen are either 1. Living life either gaining or never being free of mental illness (which ur never realllyyyy cure 100% of depression or anxiety, it’s something you live with as apart of yourself), or 2. Your existence can’t handle being apart of something like that and your ego blips out entirely and Kyubey gets a cool human shell for a bit. Bonus points if they use said shell to see if appearing human will ease Homura

[alkaidz]

The sky is dark, not a pitch black, it is a deep and dangerous blue. Dark enough to hide the stars, but not dark enough to hide the clouds that looming above two boys. Those two run side by side, they are tired, yet, they continue without stopping at least once to rest.

They can't stop, if they do, the monsters would kill them since they are just mere humans. The world is no the same as before, is at the verge of destruction as it has fallen to a mysterious calamity known as the Great Collapse. In order to fight the monsters that began emerging around the world, humanity created the Revenants: human corpses brought back to life by implanting a Biological Organ Regenerative (BOR) parasite within the heart, acting as vampiric fighters with unique abilities.

Still, not all humans are protected by the Revenants, that's why those two  are running for their lives, trying to find a place where they can be safe.

They heavy boots thud against the sidewalk and it thud harder when they run against the howling wind. They feel it blowing through their coat, chilling every part of their skin. 

In the fading moonlight, Rathion stops running and his friend Louis stops too. His friend took a good look at him, seeing the state he was in: his side was ripped open and his guts were spilling out. Rathion was on the verge of death, but his face was just a little pale, his calm gaze made Louis worry more. He knows that Rathion is suffering, but he still keeps that calm look on his face, so as not to worry his friend.

"Are you ready to leave me behind?" Rathion asked seriously, while coughing up some blood.

"I've told you before, I'm not leaving you behind."

They weren't out of the woods yet, the monsters were still behind them, maybe they had lost them for now. If they keep moving forward, there is a chance they could escape, but in Rathion's state, continuing is not an option for him. He will die soon, he can't be a burden to Louis anymore, if he stays by his side, Louis won't be able to escape.

That's why he must find a way to make Louis leave him behind, to save his precious friend's life, Rathion will do anything, no matter if it means being hated.

"Stop being a fool, there is no salvation for me. Haven't you noticed by now?"

Louis is aware of the state Rathion is in, but doesn't want to give up hope of escaping together. Rathion is still breathing, so Louis doesn't want to give up.

"It's still too early to say that, you're still breathing and you're still on your feet, there's still hope."

That little hope that Louis speaks of, had already been extinguished within Rathion's heart, he knows perfectly well that there is nothing that can save him. His destiny is to die in this desolate ruined city, but Louis can escape that cruel fate, he still has time to leave before the monsters find them.

"You want my sacrifice to be in vain, get away from here now!" Rathion raised his voice, still keeping his cool.

Louis remained silent, looking at his friend who, despite suffering, stands firm without showing any kind of weakness. He gritted his teeth, feeling frustrated that he couldn't do anything, that he had been a burden on Rathion's shoulders, causing him to get hurt. Yes, it's all Louis' fault, Rathion risked his life to save his.

Rathion does not regret saving the life of his precious friend, he thinks that it is better that someone intelligent and compassionate like Louis survive than a good-for-nothing, selfish like him.

Feeling guilt in his heart, Louis was going to turn around and leave Rathion behind, but he noted how Rathion's calm soon reached its limit. His knees bent and his body fell forward, Louis reflexively caught the upper half of his body. The smell of blood that he hadn’t felt so far stung his nose: It was awful.

"I told you it was too late, now leave me here and go." With difficulty, Rathion said those words close to Louis's ear.

Not listening to his friend's words, Louis sat down and rested Rathion's head on his lap. "I want to stay with you, at least until you close your eyes."

Rathion laughed slightly, he always knew why Louis was trying so hard not to leave him behind, despite knowing why, he's been ignoring it for a while now. He knows that he feels the same, but he kept quiet, pretending not to know anything, hiding what he felt in his heart. Those feelings will be buried in the depths of darkness, neither of them will be able to say anything.

The cold wind howled once more, with the possibility of a storm, everything smelled vaguely damp as if preparing for the humidity to come. Soon the tiny crystalline drops of water were trickling from up above, the overcast silver sky split by bolts of pale lightning. It was as if the clouds knew about the tragedy to come and wanted to wash away the sadness with relentless rain.

The water felt like little cold pinpricks as it assaulted his skin, the rain still not heavy, not strong enough to cover the tears on Louis's face. As he silently listened to the raindrops falling one after another, Rathion looked at Louis's face, seeing those beautiful red eyes brimming with tears.

If he doesn't say anything, his words would die along with him, like a smoke without a last sputtering of spit. There would be no ashes, no burnt pieces for Louis to keep. Not even a last strong gasp, or a mark of nails dragged. There wouldn't be no etchings, no last message for anyone to decode.

Everything about him would disappear, his love that had never been shown, would end without a residue of memories, without final words for Louis to remember. There are no photographs of him, there is nothing for Louis to cherish.

"Please tell me you'll fight this fight, I can't see without your light, I need you to breathe into my life." His words broke up and all he could say were stuttering sounds. Hot tears streamed down his face, he squeezed his eyelids shut with the hope his tears would stop. His choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time as he sat stroking Rathion's hair.

He didn't want this to be goodbye, he wants someone to tell him that this is not where it all ends. "Don't tell me this a is goodbye..." His words broke once again, his hands chaking, being afraid to hear an answer.

"I'm sorry, Louis." Rathion reached out and cupped Louis's cheek, he leaned in slightly.

He felt how Rathion's hand wasn't warm anymore, his hand was so cold, he was dying and Louis couldn't do anything to stop it. He kept crying, those tears that he couldn't wipe away, because they are the only thing he has left, to feel again the same warmth from Rathion's hands that he longed for so much.

The one he loves would be gone, without being able to fight, and with his suppressed emotions kept down. There's so many regrets inside Rathion's heart, but there's not a second chance for him to go back.

"It's time for you to go, they'll be here in no time." The bittersweet words left his lips but he kept the other words at bay -- the ones he could never, ever say. He dragged those deeply rooted words, pulling them until they wouldn't budge, wrapped them in his voice and never let them go.

Before going and leaving everything behind, Louis brought his face close to Rathion's, until their lips met. At this point he didn't care at all, if he end up being hated by the person he loves so be it, he will never see him again. It would be more painful for him to continue suppressing his feelings than to be rejected in the last moments of Rathion's life.   "I had a craving for a cigarette, but thanks to that kiss I don't need anything anymore."

"Don't be silly, how can you smoke in the rain?"

Hearing those words, Rathion laughed a slightly, Louis was right, no matter how much he wants to smoke, he won't be able to do it in the rain.

"Aren't you going to say anything about the kiss?

"I've known for a long time, and I--" Rathion begins to violently cough up blood, causing Louis to panic.

He could already feel how life was slipping out of his hands, in less than a few minutes death would take him away. For a moment he thought about telling Louis about his feelings, but then again it would be better not to say anything, that way it would be easier for him to forget about Rathion.

Without saying what he wanted, Rathion felt a huge sense of tiredness. The numb feeling grew stronger, his thoughts began to become more and more confused and disappeared like smoke. Tiredness has seeped deep into his bones, he needed rest, just a little bit of rest. He knows that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again, still he wanted it all to end.

The moment Rathion closed his eyes, the rain fell mercilessly, washing away everything in its path, trying to drown away Louis's tears and screams.

"Don't go, please stay by my side. Open your eyes, look at me with a smile like you always did." 

Seeing the person he loved die in front of his eyes made him feel cold, it is not that simple cold that one feels on a winter day or the chill when drinking a cold drink. It's something hollow and empty. Like something's missing and it aches. A deeply cold and tired soul that he just can't shake, Rathion has left a hole in Louis's heart.

He has lost a big part of him, and he wonders where lies his heart now, that damaged, splintered in shards heart of his. He is alive thanks to the sacrifice of his friend, who was pierced by the arrow of death that captured his last breath.

In that night that sheds to dawn, Ration lost his life, his aura faded into darkness, a tunnel of grey.

Louis had so many things he wanted to say and he knew Rathion left some things unsaid, all of it and the memories they had, good and bad… They're all over the place as he holds Rathion's hand one last time. He couldn't stop crying, realizing this is the end.

[quindolyn]

heyyyyy, can you do harry imagine where when they fight with the death eaters fem reader rescues sirius from bellatrix because she know he is the only relative harry has and gets hurt, so in the hospital harry visits her and thanks her and she tells him that she loves her? like lots of fluff😻

To Be Lovable || Harry Potter

Word Count: 4069

A/N: Hey love, I hope you enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write.

Warnings: mentions of a broken bone, let’s just pretend that Sirius’ name has already been cleared, obviously not canon, I believe that that is it.

Masterlist

Life had fucked Harry Potter over, that was for sure. It basically said “fuck you” and gave him the responsibility of saving muggle and wizardkind alike. Robbed him of a family, of a childhood, of any semblance of the confidence he so desperately needed. 

But life always outs. Life will always find a way to straighten itself out, even the scales. Life had given Harry Sirius Black, so it was doing a pretty good job so far. Just as life had fucked Harry Potter, it’d fucked Sirius Black too.

When life gave them each other it slowly started mending its wrong doings with Sirius’ false imprisonment, Harry’s lack of a father figure, their shared lack of affection of any sort. In Harry Sirius had found a friend, a son and in Sirius, Harry had found a father, someone to care.

You had spent the last five years watching Harry suffer trial after trial all while you suffered a trial of your own, the trial of loving him from afar. As much as you adored Harry, and you really did, how could you not? From the blush that painted his cheeks at the slightest compliment, to the way his glasses sat crooked on his nose, to the messy black mop of hair that sat upon his head the boy was completely and utterly loveable. But it was because of the love you harbored for the boy that you refused to confess your feelings to him, he had more than enough on his plate. The Boy Who Lived most definitely had better things to do with his time than deal with the feelings of a hormonal teenager. Perhaps that was life’s way of fucking with you, making you love a boy who didn’t have it within him to love you back.

Life didn’t get to fuck with Harry Potter anymore, he’d done more than his fair share of suffering, of grieving, he’d more than served a punishment he’d never earned. That’s all you could think about as you saw Bellatrix point her wand at Sirius’ form, laughing maniacally as a jet of green light shot from the tip of her wand, aimed directly at Sirius. 

Head thrown back in laughter, eyes closed, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to dodge the curse leaving you with no other option but to full on tackle him. You threw your body at him, aiming to take him down at the knees but failing rather miserably instead wrapping your arms around his chest and instead of knocking him to the ground, making him stumble backward.

Regardless, on the floor, or a few inches to the right, you still managed to knock him out of the curse’s path. Sirius hadn’t realized who was on top of him or that their intentions were good rather than evil, in the heat of the moment, with curses flying to and fro you were flung from his body as he knocked you onto the floor.

As you landed on your side, your arm trapped beneath you, you heard the distinct, sickening snap of what couldn't have been anything other than bone. The sound rang through the din in the room, impossible to miss but yet no one seemed to offer you so much as a glance, anyone except Sirius that was. 

“Shit” He swore, bending down to access the damage, gently turning you on to your back so that he could get a better look at your arm, “I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

“It’s fine Sirius,” You slurred, not daring to look at your arm, the pain you were feeling was enough, you were more than fine without visuals to match. Having never broken a bone before you were not ready for the immense pain that festered in your arm, sharp and stabbing it felt like every single nerve in your arm was being bludgeoned over and over again, mercy be damned.

“You’re slurring your words (Y/N),” Sirius scolded, not angry at you but rather at himself, “You’re not okay and it’s not fine. Now did you hit your head too?”

You thought for a moment, had you hit your head?

Yes, you remembered the thump of your skull against the hard stone of the room hidden deep within the Department of Mysteries, and the more you thought about it, the more clearly you could feel that the dull thrum of pain was still present where the initial impact had occurred.

 “Y-yeah,” You stuttered out, your vision blurring as the man kneeling above you started to fade, “I think so, it hurts.” Black spots began to dance through your vision, the cacophony of noise in the room became a low buzz as the sound of your blood rushing through your veins overwhelmed you. It became the only thing you could hear.

You heard the faint noise of Sirius letting out a slew of curses, not all of which seemed to be in English as his hands moved to your scalp, gently pressing down until a sharp pain coursed through you. 

“Fuck,” Someone, swore, him or you, you weren’t sure. It was very possible it had been either of you as Sirius pulled his hand away from your head and back into your visage. His middle three fingers were soaked in blood, your blood. Crimson and dripping from his digits the metallic scent flooded your nostrils making you work not to gag as you found the stench to be truly nauseating. 

He spoke again, or at least you thought he did as you could faintly make out the whisper of his voice and the moving of his lips.

Faintly you wondered if you heard the familiar voice of a certain bespectacled boy, frantic as he approached you, and the glimpse of dark, messy hair you caught almost convinced you of such. But as more and more blackness took over your vision it became harder and harder to tell until you were completely swallowed, and your eyes blinked closed into a dark, dreamless sleep.

“She’s not exactly asleep,” Someone was talking.

“Well she sure as hell isn’t awake,” There was someone in the room.

“If you’d let me finish Mr. Weasley-”

“Oh shut up,” This voice was new, deeper than either of the previous ones, its posh accent distinctly different than the other two, “No need to condescend the boy just tell us if (Y/N)’s going to be alright. Harry’s going to want to know when he finishes his business with Dumbledore.”

Harry? Was Harry alright? Stupid question, if precedent was anything to go on, he probably wasn’t.

At the mention of his name you felt a wave of energy surge through you, it was only with that energy you were able to blink your eyes open. They desperately wanted to close as the harsh white light of the room flooded your irises but you refused to let them, instead squinting so that the light entering your vision was limited. 

“As I was saying,” The first voice continued, “She’s in a medically induced coma, this isn’t a restful sleep this is because she can’t afford to be conscious right now and when she wakes up she’s going to be in a whole world of pain and having the six of you here isn’t going to help her.”

No one seemed to notice your new state of consciousness as they continued their conversation, voices tense with worry as they batted back and forth in a game of verbal racketball, a question met by an answer which was countered by another question.

You were too out of it to take offense to their neglect as you felt that surge of energy start to slip away from you, like sand through your fingertips. Grasping onto the last whispers of it before it drifted away from you entirely you cleared your throat, the sound minuscule but apparently just loud enough to catch the attention of a certain red headed girl.

“(Y/N),” This voice was unmistakable Ginny. You turned your head to face the source of her voice, met by the blurry outline of unmistakable Weasley red, they really should just patent it at this point, hair surrounding a pale face. “(Y/N) you’re awake!” She lunged towards you gripping your arm in her hand, albeit a little painfully, but all pain, and sound, and sight seemed fuzzy, like remembering a dream from the night prior.

At Ginny’s words, all heads in the room snapped to your form where you laid in the hospital bed, looking as though you’d seen better days. Which granted, you had. 

It took a second for them all to register the meaning behind what Ginny had announced, but as soon as they did they went into a flurry, a healer rushing to take your vitals, moving her wand up and down your body, muttering incantations under her breath. Molly was at your side, gazing at you with brown eyes swimming with worry as she ran a hand down the side of your face which was still lolled to the side. Two identical boys stood at the foot of your bed while two girls, the previously spoken of redhead and her curly haired friend stood back, giving the Healers space to move about. 

Sirius stood over Molly’s shoulder, his eyes drowning in guilt as he failed to return your gaze. 

“Where am I?” Godric you sounded awful, and it felt like there was gravel in your throat, irritating you even as you merely swallowed.

“St. Mungo’s darling,” Molly answered promptly, trying and failing to suppress a sniffle, “You were hurt at the Department of Mysteries.”

You remembered, oh you undoubtedly remembered. The ache in your arm and head was more than enough to remind you of what had occurred, it was reinforced by the dark haired man looming in the corner refusing to meet your eyes.

After a good deal of fussing both by the Healers and Molly people finally started to stream out of your room, first Ginny and Hermione, followed by the twins and finally the Healers and Molly. 

That left just you and Sirius, who still refused to meet your eyes, in the small room which smelt of dittany and blood. 

It was silent for a minute, then two, before you simply couldn’t take it anymore, if he wasn’t going to say something you would, “S’not your fault Sirius,” Your voice was still rather hoarse but it had improved significantly after downing the three cups of water than had been placed in front of you. 

“You were just trying to save me, you did save me and now you’re hurt.” His head which had previously been hung raised to finally meet your eyes, the shame he carried in his eyes was palpable, remorse etched into his face. A face which reflected every year he’d lived on this planet and then some. 

“M’gonna be fine Sirius, you didn’t know it was me I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” You shook your head lightly to refocus your eyes but that just amplified the pain already pounding in your skull.

Reluctantly Sirius trudged towards you before pulling a chair up to your bed and eventually resting himself in it, not looking at your face but rather at the foot of the bed. “Why’d you do it (Y/N)? Why’d you go to all that trouble to save an old man like me?” There was none of his usual humor in his voice, only a sorrowful curiosity.

“You’re all he has left Sirius,” This drew his attention, craning his neck to look at you, his eyes, accompanied by his continued silence urged you on, “You can’t die on him because then he’ll have no one.”

For the first time since you’d tackled him in the Department on Mysteries however long ago, Sirius Black smiled. Unlike his usual smirks or grins, the one that graced his face was gentle, and perhaps a bit hopeful as well.

“Not so sure about that love,” He let out a laugh so light it was barely a laugh, more like a puff of air, “He’d still have you, wouldn’t he?”

You willed yourself not to give away your true feelings for Harry to his godfather of all people, but the nervous grin that adorned your face was a dead give away to his already good guess.

“He cares about you (Y/N),” Sirius was merciful, sparing you from verbalizing the feelings that the both of you now acknowledged existed, “We had to drag him away from you at the Department of Mysteries.”

“That was Harry?” You perked up, “I didn’t just imagine him?”

“Nope,” He replied, popping his p, “He almost punched Moony when tried to drag him away from you.”

Not knowing how to respond to that you simply didn’t.

“He had to meet with Dumbledore to discuss something, that’s why he wasn’t here when you woke up,” Sirius explained.

“Oh, its okay, I’m sure he has much better things to do than come visit-”

You were cut off mid sentence by the sound of feet thumping down the hallway outside your room. Both you and Sirius turned your heads to watch someone fly by the cracked door of the room, his voice booming as he called out for you, then Ron, then Hermione. 

“Sir, I’m going to need you to be a little quieter,” The stern but kind voice drifted into the room from the hallway.

“Where is she?” Yup, that has Harry. The sound of his voice was ingrained in your head and had been for countless years now. 

You and Sirius stayed silent, still watching the door, listening to the tense conversation taking place between Harry and the St. Mungo’s staff member before you heard Hermione’s voice cut in, trying to calm the two men down.

“Well it sounds like he’s going to be in here soon,” Sirius said, standing up from his chair, gazing down at you.

“It does,” You agreed.

“I will never be able to thank you enough (Y/N), not only for saving my life today but for being such a good friend to Harry, giving him the love that he deserves.” Tears brimmed at the raven haired man’s eyes as he laid his palm atop your hand.

“Of course Sirius,” Your voice cracked mid sentence as you too were gulping down tears.

Leaning down Sirius pressed a fatherly kiss to the crown of your head just as Harry burst through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” The older chuckled, pulling back to his full height as Harry bounded towards you, completely ignoring the presence of his godfather. 

“(Y/N)!” His long legs got him to you in no time at all, when he reached you his eyes snagged on your broken arm before meeting your own. 

Sirius sent you a silent wink as he slipped from the room, you hadn’t noticed him even make his way towards the door. He made sure to shut the door tightly behind him so that you and Harry would be granted some privacy.

“Hi Harry,” You let out a watery chuckle as you took in his appearance, he looked like he’d gotten caught in a wind tunnel with his hair all messy, and the fabric of his tight fitting t-shirt clinging to his chest. 

“Don’t laugh,” He frowned down at you as he settled himself next to you on the bed, “You might hurt your lung or something.”

You smiled at his clueless, over protective behavior, “S’not my lungs that are hurt H, just my arm and my head.”

“There’s nothing just about it,” He countered, “You’d be fine without your arm but you need your head (Y/N/N), can’t go walking around without it.” 

You opened your mouth to say something but you didn’t get the chance before he started talking again, pushing himself off up the flimsy mattress to pace next to your bed, “What the hell were you thinking jumping on Sirius like that?”

You rolled your eyes at his outburst, “Bellatrix had cast the Killing Curse at him, Harry, he was going to die if I didn’t do something!” Your voice raised against your will as you got defensive, you may have loved Harry but that didn’t stop you from getting aggravated with him when he was being an idiot. Take now for example.

“You could’ve died (Y/N)! Don’t you understand that? You could’ve died and I-”

“But I didn’t Harry! I didn’t die and I’m fine now.”

“The hell you are! You’re lying in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s with a broken arm and a concussion, if that's your definition of fine then I’d hate to see what not fine is!”

“I’m a big girl Potter, I can take care of myself,” You argued, pushing yourself up on the bed so that you were sitting upright, independent of your pillows. How was he being so daft? You’d saved the closest person he had to real family and now here he was, completely railing on you.

He was so caught up in his own head, continuing to pace up and down the length of the room that he didn’t seem to notice when you started swaying, no doubt because you had lifted yourself up too quickly and your head should’ve been resting on your pillow. 

“You may be a big girl (Y/N), but clearly you shouldn’t be left to your own devices because what would possess someone to do something so idiotic?”

You tried to swallow the anger you felt bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to explode in an eruption of words you weren’t quite ready to say out loud. But as he went on and on you found it harder and harder to swallow your feelings until they inevitably bubbled over.

“You idiot,” You cut him off, too fed up with him to listen to what he had to say, “I wasn’t going to let Sirius die because he’s the only family you have Harry! You love him and it would kill me to see him ripped from you, just like so many other good things have been ripped from you, because…”

You went silent, all of a sudden your voice seemed very loud in the sterile room and you realized it’s because he finally shut up. 

“Because why?” He asked turning so that he was facing you, “Because why?”

“Because I-” You felt a rush of heat flooded your face and quickly averted your gaze from the boy, focusing instead on the clock hung on the wall opposite your bed. 

You were quiet for a moment, hoping he would show you mercy and continue on with his ranting but he didn’t. Harry never did stand down from a fight, especially not one that he could win. 

Coming to terms with the fact that the only way this was ending was with a confession from you, you gulped. And with your saliva you swallowed your pride, turning back to face the boy who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

“Because I love you, okay?” You admitted to him, letting your vision glaze over so you wouldn’t have to see the eventual look of guilt wash over his features before he gently turned you down, apologizing, calling you beautiful, telling you how you deserved someone better. Even though there was no one better than him.

You thought he looked like a deer caught in the headlights as he stared at you, unblinking. 

Eventually, after what could’ve been a couple of seconds or could’ve been a couple of hours, he spoke, “Y-you love me?” He sounded incredulous like he didn’t really believe you.

And that’s when it hit you, he didn’t really believe you. 

As a wave of indescribable sorrow washed over you, at the notion that the beautiful boy in front of you really had no clue just how beautiful he was, you maneuvered yourself so that you could stand up, throwing one leg over the edge of the bed, and then the other.

Pushing yourself up into an upright position you were immediately swaying, ready to collapse onto the floor, and Harry must’ve observed that as he came back to his senses as he looped his arms under yours, pulling you into his toned chest, hard from countless hours of Quidditch practice.

“What do you think you’re doing (Y/N/N)?” His voice was softer now, meant for only you to hear.

“Was gonna show you how much I love you,” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt as you abandoned all of your inhibitions, you needed to tell him how you felt, “You clearly don’t believe me when I tell you and that’s ridiculous Haz because you’re lovely and wonderful and you light up my day every time I see you. I can’t imagine my life without you,” You paused your ramble, not noticing the brilliant shade of vermillion his face had turned.

“No, I can imagine it without you Harry and it’s horrible, it’s not a life worth living.”

“Don’t say that (Y/N),” He cut you off, a frown gracing his enviably red lips.

“Would you let me finish Potter?” You sniped playfully, “I love you, Harry, I’ve loved you since we were first years and it kills me that you don’t see how lovable you are. Because you are lovable Harry,” You pulled back a bit to rest your chin on his chest, gazing up at him, “You are completely lovable, and that’s why I put myself in harm’s way today, because if it meant saving someone you love, then it is worth it. It will always be worth it.”

You watched as tears spilled down his cheeks, but you could tell by the smile pulling at his wobbling lips that they were happy tears, “Y-you love me?” 

How your heart could break at three simple words baffled you but it did, “I love you, Harry, I have loved you and I will always love you.”

A smile overtaking his entire face split it in half, a toothy grin you’d like to see on him more often, “I-”

“You don’t have to say it back H, the fact you’re not turning me down right now is more than enough. You don’t have to say it back, we can take it slow,” You cut him off, not wanting to rush him.

“I want to though, I want to say it back.” He insisted, sounding like an eager puppy.

“Really?” You couldn’t suppress the optimistic lilt to your voice.

He nodded surely, still grinning down at you. “I love you (Y/N).”

You had to stop yourself from crying, or screaming, or jumping in the air, or some combination of all three, but that’s all you wanted to do. You wanted to scream and jump and cry but you preferred being in Harry’s arms much more. 

“May I kiss you?” Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper you could barely hear.

“Yes please,” You giggled, standing up on your tippy toes as he leaned down to capture your lips in his.

You poured all the passion of the past five years into that kiss, all of the stolen glances at him, all of the nights spent sobbing, thinking that he could never love you back. All of the sacrifices, all of the hugs, and the smiles you shared. They were all poured into the kiss and they all meant so much more now because being part of something so beautiful could only make those memories better.

Harry wrapped his arms around your back, pressing your body to his while being careful to mind your hurt arm. You dug the fingers on the hand of your healthy arm in his thick hair, using it as an anchor to pull yourself closer to him.

You pulled away first, taking big gulps of air in an attempt to refill your empty lungs. 

“You love me,” Harry stated simply, staring down at you adoringly.

“I love you,” You agreed with a small nod of your head.

“I can’t believe you actually love me.” He smiled again, this grin even goofier than the last, making his emerald eyes shine.

You smiled at the look of childlike happiness that adorned his face, “And I can’t believe it took me this long to tell you.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

[purplecandygerl]

Fear

— Levi x Reader

— angst, fluff, mention of death, cursing

— summary: Levi never let his fear get in a way of his decision yet for this moment he did

— word count: 2.8k

It’s that time of the month once again, when Squad Leaders were given a tremendous quantity of paperwork to be finish in an unfair amount of time, Levi is unexcluded to this time but even worse for his part. A list of cadets where handed to him early on.

The list consist of mostly from the 104th cadets and his eyes soften at the familiar name included on the list. (Y/n) (L/n). All your efforts and hardship within the past month has finally paid off, he knew about your unspoken goal of wanting to be part of his squad long time ago. He couldn’t be much prouder of you ever since, considering you to his squad would definitely increase his time with you, he can already see himself having you by his side.

Content with list of candidate given to him, he decided to set it aside as he move on to another paperworks, his calloused hand reaches to the papers near him. The thick cursive heading made his breath hitched

Certification of Death

It felt like a hard slap to him as memories of the recent expedition flash before him as he passed through the forest seeing nothing, but the bloody corpses of his members brutally killed by the Female titan as tried to protect Eren till the end.

Worries began to fill him, he couldn’t bear to see you in those situation, this is the only thing that matters to his life and one wrong situation can slip you out of his grasp in a matter of seconds, yet he couldn’t afford any distraction in the moment of the expedition as the lives of the soldiers lies on his own hands, reaching for the list of candidates once again before crossing your name before stacking another paper above the list.

“Levi?” the sound of his name being called out as the door of his office shut close, revealing his (h/c) haired lover “not done yet?” he shook his head, “I see” he notice the lethargic tone you release as you sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around him as you buried your face at the crook of his neck indulging on his scent. He lean onto his chair caressing the tresses of your (h/c) hair. “Did something happened?” he questioned, which you shake your head

“It’s nothing, I just want to ease your stress somehow” those words never failed to cause his heart to leap in adoration, he always thought there will be times that you would finally leave him seeing that he always lack of showing his affection to you, yet one year after \here you are showering him with affection at first, he would stiffen at the unpredicted kisses you place on his cheek during your private time until it become something that enlightens his sour mood daily.

Placing a kiss in your forehead, he wishes for you to forgive him for what he was planning to do. He could take all your anger at him if it meant to keep you alive by his side.

༺═──────────────═༻

The final members of Levi’s Squad was finally announced, the rush excitement you felt were shattered to piece as the roll out of names ended without getting your name called, the combination of anger, frustration and disappointment were enough to put you on the edge, clenching onto your fist as you tried to fight off the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“Are you alright (Y/n)?” you heard your friend worriedly asked as you both head back inside the castle, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine” you immediately answered. “You should head first, I��ll catch up”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you” bidding a goodbye before heading to a certain office for explanation.

“Captain” you called out from the outside of his office, giving his permission for you to enter.

“Why?” The first word that left your lips were the conclusion of messed up emotion you were trying to endure. You knew that he knows what you were talking about, you know that he would be the person who gets to decide on the final list of the members.

“There are more suitable soldiers fitted in my squad”

“So, I’m not suitable for your squad. Is that it?” you hissed, how could he say that when he knew how much you work hard to be part of his squad

“Yes” you stared at him in disbelief as your whole body began to tremble holding yourself opening your lips only painful laughter were able to leave your dry throat, which surprised the man in front you.

“Fuck you, if that was the case you shouldn’t have gotten my hopes since the beginning, you shouldn’t have fucking care if I work myself up if that was the FUCKING CASE, WERE YOU LAUGHING JUST LIKE THEM WHEN SAW WATCH ME FUCKING STRUGGLES FOR NOTHING” you snapped out

“FUCK OFF, (Y/N) ISN’T THE ONLY REASON YOU WANTED TO JOIN WAS TOO HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO FUCKIN LAZED YOURSELF AROUND ME” He spat off, his mind was screaming at him to tell the truth already yet anything that left on his mouth is nothing truthful. He was spouting to stand for his decision. For a second, he tried to reason himself it was for you own good, it really is. Until his gaze returned back to you. He watched how tears drenched down your cheeks for the first time in his life he saw you cried. He could only stand on his feet frozen as you tried to brush off the tears blurring your vision.

“it was never about that case, I--” biting your inner lips, there’s no use for you tell him everything what’s the point of everything at this point, giving up. You only turned your back at him before shutting the door close.

As the sound of the door clicking shut was the only time he realized he fucked everything up, he wanted to follow you back yet he remained frozen on his feet, the silence on his office only left your voice echoing in his mind, every word you left a stabbing guilt and regrets on him. Was everything really necessary? For the sake of keeping you alive he had to hurt you in the process.

“were you laughing just like them” clenching his fist, how his way of showing his affection were seen in a different, only then he realized someone was thinking so lowly of your effort yet it only returned back to him knowing you think he was just like them.

A knock on his door, snaps him back to his thoughts. “What?” he didn’t bothered hiding his irritation to the soldier disturbing him “S-sir, Commander Erwin called you to his office sir”

“What do you mean my squad would be on standby? I thought we would be leading for the clearing up tomorrow?” Erwin sighed, it turns out only two squads would be leaving tomorrow to examine the behaviour of the titans before clearing up the titan near the wall.

“I see, then who’s squad would you be sending instead?” he asked, taking a sip on his tea, surprisingly glad he had a free time which he would dedicated on asking for your forgiveness.

“(L/n) William’s Squad”

༺═──────────────═༻

It was supposed to be a clear up for the remaining titans roaming across the abandoned city, only expecting atleast twenty or less titans left, yet when you encounter a horde of abnormal titans gathered in the deeper corner of the city, you knew this can be the last of something. Right now, the titan’s attention were averted from you with the quantity they had you wouldn’t be able to take them all with the lack of gas and blade, if you fire the flare gun to sign the soldiers around you, the titan’s attention would directly be place to you which would lead to the first option. Lastly, if you tried to escape you will most likely lead them to the other soldiers.

Not only your choices are limited but everything is too risky for you and the other members.

“Fuck this shit” firing your flare gun instead of pointing the gun at the sky, you fire the flare at the titans instead before releasing your hook leading back to where your squadmates are, in the center of the city you found a familiar figure the vibrant red covering him.

“William!” You shouted turning his gaze his eyes widen as you fired your hook on the concrete walls in attempt to carry him “Wait no! AT YOUR BACK” he tried to warn, before you can process his warning a giant palm slaps your body like a fly.

the impact of being thrown inside of a building breaking the window in the process, a static rings across your ears as every part of your body is throbbing in pain, opening your eyes only to feel a burning pain with a blurry eyesight reminding you much of the arguments yesterday, recalling back the words you let out that time. Maybe, maybe they were right,

“Just this last time, let me see them” you speak to yourself, trying to stand up every movement you make felt like you were being electrified in pain, stabbing your blade on the ground using it as foundation for your footing. Feeling the ground continuous shaking, losing balance, hitting the concrete floor hard, a sharp pain once again pierce through you, causing you to whimper in unbeknownst to you a sharp wood stab through your abdomen, leaving you crumbling in pain on the ground the sight of shards of glass soaked a puddle of blood. was the only thing you have seen before blacking out

I was never suitable to be here in the first place.

༺═──────────────═༻

Levi anxiously waited on his seat, no matter how much he tried to focus on the meeting between regiments he found himself drifting back to your situation, despite already reminding a soldier to immediately call him when your group arrived, yet several hours have passed and the meeting is already reaching its conclusion.

“Captain!! They’re here” A soldier barged inside the office, disregarding Erwin calling him out he wasted no time to leave the meeting,

“They’re at the Medical Bay for now.” the soldier reported,

“How are they?” he noticed the grim look on the soldier confirming his fear all at once

“one of the squad were completely leaving only one soldier in critical condition” dismissing the soldier he immediately head to the medical bay, every step he make felt heavy as if the world had collapse at his grasp. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Levi” a familiar voice called out, hanji was waiting in front of the medical bay door, “Is she?” the jumbled emotion he’s feeling couldn’t continue the question he needed answers for, luckily Hanji quickly understand his struggles

“It turns out that there were more titan than what was initially reported, their squad had to face a horde of abnormal titans as we split up. We only found her inside of a building after a flare was shot. She was thrown by a titan trying to save her brother, a large wood pierce through her abdomen at the same time she already lose too much blood, the moment we found her” Hanji saw the grim expression from Levi, as he quietly listen the events that had happen, the fear, guilt, and regrets shown directly to his metallic irises. For once, Hanji saw a vulnerable side of Levi, a man so close losing a part of him leaving him once again alone.

A few hour has passed, when the door has finally opened as a doctor step out of the room, looking around the doctor only find him alone waiting.

“Captain Levi, are you perhaps the relative for Miss (L/n) (Y/n)?”

“Yes” leading him inside the medical bay, his eyes quivered at the sight of your figure wrapped in white pristine bandage up until your neck and another to covering your eyes. your pale like skin made it you look like “the progress of the surgery were slightly complicated due to the loss of blood but overall, the surgery was a success” Levi felt a relief wash over him, hearing how his lover is still alive felt like a heavy burden were lifted from his shoulder,

“at least that’s the good news, but the condition of her eyes had receive a different outcome”

“What do you mean?”

“Not only her abdomen where severely injured but also her eyes, shards of glass were able to damage her pupil that may became a permanent blindness, overall she needs to stay bedridden in three weeks before we can discharge her” the doctor explained, Levi remained stiff on his feet, his mind tried to comprehend the information given to him, blind? You wouldn’t be able to see anything from now on? You wouldn’t be able to see him?

Sitting beside your bed, his hand grasp to your bandage covered hand, entwining his fingers to yours, the coldness of your hands gave discomfort to his, it felt like he was holding onto a lifeless body the coldness of your body felt uncanny it might be because he was used to having your warm hands to his cold calloused hand. Pressing a kiss to your knuckle seeing the pattern of your chest rising and falling, was the only thing he need for now. Your alive that’s all that matters to him.

༺═──────────────═༻

Despite how much he doesn’t want to leave by your side yet with the constant nag from Erwin, it’s the third week you’ve remained unconscious, your temperature had increases in the spam of time yet it still frustrated him seeing no sign of waking up. He wanted nothing more but to hear your voice again. Placing a kiss to your forehead as he whispers his goodbye.

That was several hours ago, the sound of someone screaming from the top of their lungs had reached from the hallway he was in, either way he continue onto his path back to medical bay reaching closer the screams become clearer.

“IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ALIVE” the woman angrily yelled out, nurses already had their hands around her preventing the woman from getting closer

“MISS PLEASE STOP SHE’S STILL RECOVERING” one of the nurses begged at the woman “NO LET ME GO” she demanded wanting to remove the grasp around her, she was able to pull you out of your bed earlier leaving you on the floor. Her hand was able to reach to your hair tugging it off roughly pulling you to her.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST LISTEN TO US IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU WOULDN’T BE LEFT LIKE THAT?!”

“what do you think you’re doing?” Levi intervened slapping the woman’s wrist away sending a glare at the older woman while holding you at his arm protectively, the people The bandage on your eyes has already been removed, showing those eyes he long for were finally wide and awake.

“WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! I’M HER MOTHER I KNOW WHAT’S THE BEST FOR HER”

“I don’t care, your daughter is already adult enough to know what’s best for herself. you two” he called out the two-soldier passing by.

“guide the guardian her way out of the castle” obeying the captain’s order, the two already hand their hand to the exit, waiting for the woman to follow looking back at the two of you, clicking her tongue in irritation before following the soldiers.

After your mother left, his attention immediately turned to you carrying you at his arms placing you back to your bed, no words were exchanged during that time. Hugging your knees, leaning your head at the top. He wanted to say something, anything yet he couldn’t bring himself to left words out afraid he might hurt you once again.

“Let’s end this here, Levi”

Levi’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean?” He mumbled, afraid his voice might cracked any moment.

“There’s no point on continuing this”

“How?” your hand clutches on the white blanket covering your lower half, holding back the tears from building on your cloudy eyes.

“CANT YOU SEE?! I LOST MY EYESIGHT I’M ALREADY USELESS AT THIS POINT” snapping at him, the frustration you’ve been feeling since the moment you woke up and being informed by your condition finally took its last trigger and burst.

“I’m sorry” feeling his warm calloused hand at yours “I thought removing you from the list would keep you safer than the circumstance we had. I’m scared (y/n), I cannot bear to see you the same position that my old squad had that time, you’re an amazing soldier. I never mean what I said before”

“It doesn’t matter now, I can’t be a soldier anymore” removing his grasp from you

“Please just leave”

[theambitiouswoman]

Heeeey chicken.

Can you share some advice on how to spend money without feeling guilty!

I am consciously powering through feelings of unworthiness with self love, compassion and empathy. Every time I buy groceries, I remember to feel wholly grateful and super blessed to have the ability to do so. But thoughts - like, “you’re spending too much!”, “you don’t need almonds and dates”, “just buy the cheapest (milk, tea, whatever) - often come up for me.

Groceries are slightly easier for me to power through because I know how important it is to nourish and respect our bodies with goodness. But with things less “important”, like clothes or jewellery, I find it impossible to buy something unless I really need it.

I understand that we attract things into our lives based on our levels of self worth, and abundance needs to be practiced in order to truly flourish. But, I need some help!

Thank you.💜

you deserve it.

that's how you do it without feeling guilty. knowing you deserve it. if you find yourself feeling bad for spending money, most of the time its because you might just be surrounded by people who cant spend the money the way you would. there for, you feel bad.

i don't believe in throwing away money but i do believe that you deserve anything you want and you work hard for it. why limit yourself from buying almond milk if you can afford it. and you like it? duh. why would you buy something you don't enjoy because you feel bad? no one is going to give you an award for holding yourself back or watering yourself down.

lets say its your family making you feel bad about spending money on almond milk and now you feel bad about it. why dont you also buy them something you know they would like but cant afford.

im very into family and i believe that the first people you should share abundance with is them. i see alot of people make a little money and spend money on all these things, and leave their family on the back burner. i bought my dad a car before i bought myself my car. i couldnt even think of spending all this money on myself and not take care of my parents. it was actually never an option.

the cool thing about abundance is that once your cup is full, you can pour on to others. and thats such a different approach than it coming from a place of guilt. especially a limiting guilt.

you're right when you live a life of abundance, you attract abundance because its the reality that you create for yourself. that's why i always tell people to hang out in places that they aspire to be in. where the people they aspire to look like, or be, are. if you start hanging out with people more successful than you, you are bound to be successful too. you exposed yourself to that reality and are now in the same realm of confidence, knowledge and opportunity.

i'm not big on spending money on a lot of material things unless i REALLY love it. i think material things are a waste of money. however when i want something, i wont think twice about getting it.

start living the life you dream of. don't hold yourself back or water yourself down just so others can feel comfortable. i don't come from money myself. at all. and i once felt the same guilt about spending money. so i made more money so that i wouldn't feel bad anymore.

living a limited life, only limits you.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

                                                             *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But  then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret. 

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo

[han-shinsuke]

ɢᴇᴛᴏ sᴜɢᴜʀᴜ x ғᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Desperate to burden you more with thoughts and a few of his hard rubbing, Geto places himself between your legs and rubs his tip against your flushed lips down there, throwing you on the edge of torturous sensation. “Ge–Geto... please...” when he gets his desired reaction from you, a low chuckle emerges from him. To his kind, hearing a lady moaned softly was rewardingly good. And you did good, moaning his name like that.

🔞🌹 “does it hurt?” his tune was different compared to the normal tone he uses in class. There was a faint smell of concern in it and for a second, you wanted to believe that he cares for you for having his thing installed balls deep into you. The sheet is wet and so the pillow case where you had been muffling your moans and tears. You cried out the pain, digging your nails against your own flesh since your hands were tied behind your back while he was there, above your bareback, big hands gripping tightly on your waist as he makes sure you’d be filled with his arousal. One more long and strong push of his hips, you found yourself trembling from pain and an ounce of pleasure from his final assault. Geto withdrawn his shaft from your swollen anusx and he carefully rolled you on your back, checking your condition. “Does it hurt?” as if to make fun of your struggles, he asks again, swiping his thumb against your swollen lips. This may sounds funny but you couldn’t help but asked yourself if there were any part of you that hadn’t been touched and sucked by him. Probably, there’s none. Because Geto Suguru never missed. Putting your state in consideration, he feels obliged to answer his own inquiry, “of course, it hurts. I was your first, ms. front row.” You stared at his face, drained and in pain. If only you could wipe his smirk off his handsome face, you would. Sadly, you can’t. You need to stabilize your breathing and regain some energy in order to leave his estate. Though it feels impossible but you must. “G–get off me.” You gave him an undisturbed look, thinking of some effective ways to get to the bus station to not miss its last trip. Desperate to burden you more with thoughts and a few of his hard rubbing, Geto places himself between your legs and rubs his tip against your flushed lips down there, throwing you on the edge of torturous sensation. “Ge–Geto... please...” when he gets his desired reaction from you, a low chuckle emerges from him. To his kind, hearing a lady moaned softly was rewardingly good. And you did good, moaning his name like that. “Here’s the money,” again, the guilt was eating you up. Geto hands you the amount you both agreed on. You were no different from those department harlots who jumped on men like Suguru. “I’ll shower first, just wait here.” You got no time to waste so when he enters the bathroom, you put on your crumpled uniform, left his huge bedroom, painfully went through wide hallways and numerous staircases. As you stared back at the tall and automated gate, another slap from reality had hit you hard. Suguru Geto is reality miles away from the mud you’re in. You have reached the station on time. Luckily, the last bus hasn’t arrived yet so you took the chance to sleep in the shed. Fuck life. It will take a dozen of painkiller to calm your wrecked flesh and disturbed nerves, you thought. 🌹 “Your balance has been settled, Ms. Y/N.” The registrar shows you the updated payment of your account and you were not happy or pleased by it. You had someone in mind and just the thought of it, you can feel the anger and insult building inside of you. As usual, he’s there, surrounded by his kind. Women lurking around him as if they are there like an options for Geto to pick who knows who. He raises an arm, waving at you. You answered by nodding your head. Your knuckles turned white as he flashes you an innocent grin. The chair on the front row creates a screeching noise as you sat on it. You were so mad right now. Maybe throwing a shoe to his direction can lessen the fuming anger in you but you’re not that kind of person. You settled things privately. Just wait, Geto. You fucking wait and I’ll burn you alive. “Happy Birthday,” a hand put a protein bar and a can of chilled coffee on your desk. There’s no need to look at the giver. The bite mark on his wrist is enough to identify him. You were the one who put it on him last night. Your gaze follows Geto’s back as he returns to the back row. The place where strength and power lies. At twenty, you sold your dignity to

Geto Suguru. Now that you turned twenty one, you have promised that would be the first and last time you’ll use your innocence to overcome a problem. 🌹 “You’ve paid me well, Suguru, but I don’t accept tip for my service.” He didn’t speak. He must be in a state of shock after receiving a slap from you. After the exam, you confronted him and lashed out your anger from his doings. “I’m returning the money you had given last night. Thank you for the kind gesture.” You said in a very sarcastic tone. 🌹🔞 Suguru Geto is an heir. Unlike the other, he has no records of bad memories or any sad untold stories. The life his parents had given him was very ideal and perfect. He has friends and loved by many. And from those infos, you have come up with a thought that maybe, due to the perfectly laid out plan of his life, Suguru is trying to create a fault in his flawless existence. A fault that made you so eager to avoid him, that no matter where you tried to look at it, you’re a trial for him. Would he mind if you’ll be found in front of his doorstep, soaking and looks like a real shit? Well, that’s what he was looking for! A shit to jump in! “Geto!” he looks beautiful when he opened the door for you. The spotless white shirt he was wearing is now covered with dirt. Suguru returns your action, hugging you close against his body. “What happened?” his question after closing the door. Instead of answering, you just tightened the embrace around him and bit your lips to suppress your cry. “No–nothing... I’m sorry for barging in so late at night.” You tried to sound convincing and smiled. Your hand reached for the knob but Geto pulls you back, cupping your face between his warm hands. That’s the moment you gave in, face contorting as you cried helplessly while gripping his shirt. That’s all you need. Someone who can ask with sympathy. Someone who cares. For now, Suguru seems to care for you that’s why you let yourself cried in front of him. That moment, he looks and he feels like someone you can rely on with all the shits happening around you. You told him everything in details, not missing a part of it. You slept with him in exchange of some bucks. Gave your innocence with the man you thought who deserves it and that was him, Suguru Geto. Rather than selling it with your obsessed landlord, who also threatened to kill you if you refuse to bed him, you ran for your life, escaping the hell hole you have been in. You just wanted to graduate in college, make it until graduation but life have forced you to your limit. “I would rather die than to sleep with a psycho,” you confessed to him. You needed money and without those shit, you will not make it. You were so desperate to live. So desperate for a safe environment. You couldn’t even call your parents and tell them about your misfortunes for they are as well struggling to live, to sustain their needs. “You can stay here,” suddenly he suggested. “For free. No hidden charges.” He jokes. “I will be useful.” You ensures him. “You’re already are.” Geto smiles, tucking your hair behind your right ear. 🌹🔞⚠️ Whe he says, no hidden charges, there were really not. Guess, he doesn’t like the idea of tasting the same food he had before. You have been living with him for almost a month now but he’s not making a move to you. He lends you a spacious room and that made you felt lonely and cold. There was a time when Suguru brought a woman from the engineering department and you happened to witness their make out session in the kitchen one night. You were so embarrassed then apologized to them. As of the moment, you’re in the barn house, feeding his two pet horses while wearing the dress that Geto bought for you. “Y/N–” he swallows his words upon seeing you leaning forward in one of the stables, reaching the harness to check it. Suguru grits his teeth, seeing your thighs and curves are too much for him. Suddenly, he regretted purchasing the cerulean dress that fits perfectly on you. Your throat felt dry. You were familiar with the heat oozing from his

gaze. You’ve seen that during your first time with him. He walks to you, grabbing your hand, dragging you to the second level of the barn where you were slammed against the wooden wall. You cried in pain but immediately silenced by rough and hungry kisses of Suguru. At first, you couldn’t find the will to kiss him back but by just a lick on your bottom lip, you found yourself opening up for him, tilting your head to the side to give him easy access to your mouth. “Geto... ” his name slipped from your lips, pushing your own tongue into his, determined to play with his expert ones. He hummed between the kiss, supporting your chin through his forefinger. Suguru is really tall that you had to tiptoe to reach his mouth and kiss him back with same intensity. You gathered up enough courage and Suguru, himself, didn’t saw it coming. You caught him by surprised, pulling him down to you to suck on his bottom lip and lick it afterwards. “Fuck, babe.” He breathes when you released his mouth. Time for another surprise, you guided him to the nearest storage box and motioned to sit. You stopped him in the middle because you had to remove his pants and boxers. As soon as he settled, naked, Suguru holds your hair for you when you started sucking his thing. His moans and heavy breaths filled the space and your wet sucking sounds rings louder as he guides your face up and down to his erection covered in your saliva. You raised a hand when his grip tightened on your hair, almost like crashing your mouth with his hard and thick head that had been knocking your pipe pretty hard every time he goes balls deep in your mouth. You coughed helplessly as he frees you, gagging from the overwhelming thickness of his manhood. Geto cups your face and stares at you with malice before kissing you torridly, so eager to drown you with his lips and tongue that you accepted wholeheartedly. “Can I fuck you against the wall and tie you up as well?” a part of you shivered but you didn’t say ‘no’. He takes that as a ‘yes’ so you watched yourself slowly levitating from being tied up and held possessively by Suguru’s strong arms. You gasped for air when he enters your pretty tight hole in one swift push and managed to knock against your womb. “You’re so big, Geto aah!” your head fell back, the feeling of his throbbing manhood inside you is suffocating. You gasped again, sweats rolling down your neck as you let yourself adjust from his size. Geto licks your collarbone, nipping his lips against your skin up to your neck where he gets a taste of your tears and sweats, “really? You think I’m big? I feel honoured, babe.” He sucks the hollow on your neck and pulls slowly. Your eyes widened, feeling how a simple movement can stretch your rim wide open. “Aahhnnggg~ Ge–Getooo... ” You tugged your arms against the shackles, another pain inflicted upon you. And then there’s another pain, and it was a long one. He pushes fast, stretching you inside by installing deep inside of you, causing your hips to tremble when he smacks your ass and gropes you hard. As you can noticed, Suguru was being careful not to ruin the dress, the straps were rolled down just below your shoulder and he perfectly exposes your breasts, nipplesx really hard and red. For the second time in a row, your head fell back when he dips down your chest, sucking in a nipplesx while swirling his tongue around it. Geto. Geto. You went crazy and delirious. He’s attending your needy titsx with his thirsty mouth, biting the skin around it then going back to sucking the two buds alternately like a child. When he’s done showering your bosoms with attention, Suguru goes back to pushing further inside you, pulling his shaft roughly and then again, he never gets tired rutting you with his thing, slamming your hips against his hips. He was using different paces in stretching you wide so when he feels your breathing returning to normal, he would suddenly thrust his rod in and out of you roughly, making you gasp for air. “My arms feels numb, Geto ooohhh god!” you cried again, bursting into tears

when you felt him grinding his hips against yours while unloading his jizz. He stops moving for awhile but his loads are still oozing from his tip. “Okay, babe aahh~ hold tight.” Geto says, removing the shackles then locking your arms around his neck. Just when you thought it’s over, he lays you on the dust covered floor, folds you in half, hips ramming deep as he continues spilling his seeds into your cunt. He shoots you, with his long strings of arousal, fucked hard in a breathless mating press position. You’re just a dust in Suguru Geto’s universe. 🌹 Your surrounding turned pitch black with scattered stars in the night sky. You expected the moon to smile down at you but it was the greater creation who have his eyes on you. Universe taking his time looking at a particular dust. “where are we heading to?” you asked, blinking. He stops to carry you properly in his arms before answering, “home, Y/N.” Your eyes fell to the place you’ve been to. The door was left unlocked. “You forgot to lock the barn, Geto.” “They would not think of escaping, babe. They’re drawn to me and they are loyal to me.” You turned to the night sky once again, mesmerized by its beauty, you asked him a weird question, “since the door isn’t locked, then I’m free to go whenever I want to?” “Well, if it’s about you leaving my land, then expect some changes in the security. I can be selfish at times, Y/N.” “What do you meant by that, Geto?” “I just don’t think I’m capable of letting you go anymore.” ❤️

[madymoo-fandom]

My Opinions on Dragon Age Exodus

Currently I have 509.9 hours on DA:2 and even tho no one asked or cares, I'm gonna ramble on about it.

DA:2

In my opinion, DA2 is the worst for role playing purposes. If often feels like it doesn't matter when you say for do, it almost always has the same outcome. I've played a good Hawke, an evil Hawke and a great area Hawke and the variety between each playthrough is light.

However, the characters are pretty good. Not as good as Origins but still. Almost all the characters are driven by past trauma and is the main points of each of their character arcs. None of them "get over" their traumatic past but most of them do learn how to cope with it. Personally I like this very much, a lot of media shows characters eventually just get over their PTSD to never be brought up again or struggle, when PTSD has a habit of fading and bubbling up again at the best of times and is often a main contributer to the reason why people act a sertain way, differing depending on their up brings. It doesn't just disappear.

The combat is much better in DA2, I get that a lot of people who played Origins first really miss that slow pace combat, but it just wasn't for me and in da2 I actually feel like I'm kicking an enemy's a$$, when in DAO, I honestly just felt like I was knocking them out.

DA:2 DLC

Packs

These DLC's don't really add any new quest or gameplay, just new codex, weapons, armors and accessories, some only ment for certain companions. I honestly use a lot of cosmetic mods and having the packs did limit the need for me to download armor mods, since my main is a Mage in DA2 and all of the mages armors suck compared to the other classes, with the exception of Hawke's signature equipment, Mantle of the Champion, which in my option, the mage variant is the best version.

The Exhaled Prince

Honestly, I don't really like Sébastien. His quest are boring, his character is bland, and his romance just really bad and clearly just a second thought. He could have been a great character with an as3xual romance, but they just flopped it. His backstory too. With the trend of characters with traumatic backstories in this game, they could have done so much more with survivors guilt and made him so much more compelling. Its just disappointing. Honestly, if I didn't buy the DLC bundle, I wouldn't pay for him separately.

Mark of the Assassin

Honestly, this is my favorite DLC in DA2. I really liked Tallis and wish she was used as the companion DLC instead. The plot is fun, the dialog is actually really funny and its just a good time.

Legacy

I have mixed opinions about this DLC. Its good but I don't like it more than the vanilla game, the key is cool, the fact you can basically build your own weapon is nice and the final boss was a fun play but over time, the dlc felt a bit repetitive. I'm assuming they had some plans for the third game at this time and always planned for Corypheus to be the main antagonist of DA3 but it feels like he shouldn't have been scene this much in DA2. Its hard for me to explain. I kinda wish the Architect was the main antagonist for the Legacy DLC, learning about whats to come and wanting to destroy Corypheus, with him basically hoping to wipe out all darkspawn. I understand you can kill him in Awakening, but they reconned Leliana's and Anders's possible deaths before, clearly no one is safe from being brought back to life.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Follow my steps (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,8 k

Summary: OH3 Chapter 12/13 added content. Claire gets fed up with the way Ethan’s been treating her lately. She gives him one last chance to make things right, at Boston Opera House - for old time’s sake.

Warnings: It’s angst time.

A/N: I don’t even know what’s going on lately. I wanted angst and here it is. My girl C really is running thin on her patience for her man’s bullshit (and so am I).

Are you okay? was the first message he received from her that day. He left shortly after he revealed his departure from the team, so her concern really should be no surprise. Still, he sighed deeply, silenced his phone and turned it screen side down, then went back to cooking, unsure what his answer would be.

Minutes dragged by, yet somehow turned into hours and before he knew it, the sun was racing towards the horizon. Almost completely consumed by it. He reached for his phone, planning on heading to his living room and rest his mind after he spent what felt like ages of grueling research into his options. His face twisted into a frown at the sight of his screen. Immediately after, blood drained from his face.

Ethan, please let me know you’re in one piece.

A simple ‘I’m fine’ would be enough. Seriously, I’m getting worried.

He battled with his brain, still uncertain what to tell her. She had enough on her plate with the team and the Boards, she didn’t need his problems to be added onto the already enormous pile. He replied with the only thing he could think of in that moment, resenting himself for letting her worry about him for so long.

I’m okay.

By the time he sat down on the couch and some ridiculous show was playing in the background – Claire was the one that introduced him to it, and he would never admit it, but he enjoyed their debates about it – a new message was waiting for him.

Oh, thank god.

Followed shortly after by a longer one, contents of which made him feel a pit opening in his stomach.

So, want to share with class why you went radio silent for the whole day, instead of, I don’t know, letting your girlfriend know that you’re not dead so she could worry a bit less?

He had no answer to that. How was he supposed to tell her that he was terrified of what was to come and that it could possibly be fatal for him? How was he supposed to say that he didn’t want her to be even associated with the case, because he cared about her too much to risk her getting affected by it too?

In the end, he didn’t reply. And she didn’t say anything else. An impasse, of his own doing, that he had no idea how to end. He knew he had to do something – she was a very patient woman, much more patient than him, but even she had her limits. And this? This wasn’t the first time he’s pushed her away in a similar manner.

Although he was aware of that, he still refused to call her. It was getting late, she was probably studying or getting ready for bed. She needed her rest, the next week was incredibly important for her future as a doctor.

That’s what he told himself for the next two days. Every time he felt a tingle in his hand to contact her, he reminded himself of her commitments and pushed the thought down. Despite that, every single time his phone made even the smallest sound, he threw himself towards it, hoping that it was her.

It wasn’t. Two days of no contact between them.

Realizing how long it’s been made him think of their conversation a few months back. They were sitting in the exact same place he currently occupied, close to each other. His hand holding hers with certainty.

They promised each other no more secrets. No more pushing each other away. And honest conversation. All of which were his ideas. He whispered all of them with deep sense of urgency, in a fever-like state that surprised her. She nodded her head eagerly, muttering words of affirmation, then let him pull her onto him, their lips meeting again and again in a soft reassurance.

He’s broken the rules he wanted them so much to have. And not even once. No wonder she didn’t try to get in touch with him – he’s given her every indication that he didn’t want to talk about it, and she pushed only until a certain point was reached.

“I can take a hint, you know.” She once joked, poking his ribs when they walked out of the patient’s room, their initial consult being far from ideal. He smiled sadly at the memory, his chest aching from her absence.

As though he called her with his thoughts, his phone announced an incoming message. He planned what he would say, what he would do once he saw her – and what he would not do in the future. He hated when they didn’t talk to each other, and he hated the thought of losing her even more.

Instead of her words, like he expected, the screen greeted him with a single picture she sent him. Two tickets, for an evening show at Boston Opera House. A clear invitation, an olive branch that she should not have been pushed to extend – she didn’t do anything wrong. He looked closer at the photo, zooming in on the time the show was supposed to start.

Two hours. He had two hours to get himself together. Two hours until he’d see her again.

Heart pounding, he jumped up from his seat and began preparations, dialing another phone number and giving clear instructions to the person on the receiving end of the call.

~

He doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he was this nervous when stepping into the Opera building. And it was a different kind of nervous, a kind he never wanted to experience again. He was used to the anticipation that came with every date they ever had, the good kind of nervousness that stemmed from his inability to wait until he saw her. This, however, was torture in its purest form, and he admitted to himself with a pang of guilt that he subjected himself to it on his own.

His hands were full. Full of flowers that the florist somehow managed to put together when he called frantically two hours ago – he left a hefty tip with a grateful nod. His fingers traced the stems of the white roses, shaking nervously. From time to time, he tugged on the collar of his shirt, restlessly, the uncertainty of what was to come making his breathing labored.

“Nice tux.” She called out, waiting patiently for him to face her. It didn’t take long – her voice made him turn around haphazardly, his eyes drinking in her face and then widening when he noticed the dress she was wearing. Suddenly, he couldn’t see anything else but the way the fabric hugged her in the classiest way.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he breathed out, his brain short circuiting. Her lips curled in a subtle smile. She touched the pearl necklace he once gave her in wonder.

“Haven’t decided yet.”

Ethan took a step towards her, extending the bouquet slightly with an uneasy look. Her eyes fell towards the flowers and, for a moment, he thought he could see her gaze softening. She took the roses from him, the scent reaching her in waves.

“Thank you.” she muttered without looking up at him. Despite her being just mere centimeters away from him, he could still feel the chasm between them – and he felt like the space was suffocating him.

“It’s not nearly enough.” He tried again. Claire hummed, not disagreeing with his words. She reached into her purse, taking two tickets out and handing him one of them. He accepted it gratefully, combing his mind for something that would start a conversation between them. The silence was killing him.

He looked closer at the ticket and noticed something was off. “You didn’t book our booth?”

The corners of her lips shot up slightly at ‘our’. “No, I got us seats in the booth on the other side. I needed…” she hesitated, avoiding his searching gaze. “A change of perspective.”

His mouth opened and closed. She rarely said anything without thinking it through, so the choice of words she used made him feel unease all over again. Claire finally looked up at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

“Before you say anything, I didn’t go bankrupt because of those.” She nodded towards the tickets in their hands. “I have more than enough money to spend on things I want.”

“That resident salary is treating you that well, huh?” he tried joking and it worked. She gave him a laugh, shaking her head.

“A resident that’s also on the Diagnostic Team. And you’re clearly forgetting what my family does for a living.”

“Did you just flex your family muscle on me?” Ethan grinned, taking another step towards her. She nodded, challenging him with her stare. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“That’s your job tonight, babe.” Claire shot back, walking around him swiftly. He froze in place, turning towards her like a sunflower towards the sun – always following where she went. Her hips swayed from side to side alluringly as she walked, and he couldn’t look away. Suddenly, she stopped to look over her shoulder, smirking at the look he was giving her. “Are you coming or not?”

~

The lights from the stage illuminated her face just enough for him to see her features. Since they sat down and the show has started, he’s spent a total of maybe five minutes watching what was happening on stage. Remaining time was occupied by her, on the forefront of his mind and right before his eyes. Her cheeks were reddened slightly – something he noticed when a particularly bright light shone on her face.

They’ve done it countless of times before. Dates. He never got used to nerves that accompanied them, and he hoped he never would. It was a part of the allure that made it all the more exciting. Claire’s always made him feel nervous, since the first day he’s met her. Three years later, he still felt the same spark that ran through him when he first touched her hand.

He turned to her again, unable to ignore the pang that hit him every time he saw her stopping herself from reaching for him. She may have been the one that organized their evening, giving him a chance to make things right between them, but it didn’t mean she was going to ignore what was obviously there.  

She’d never make him talk if he wasn’t ready to do so. Their relationship was built on mutual respect. They recognized when the other needed to talk and when they needed some time to gather their thoughts. Through the time they’ve known each other, they learned to find those cues and signs.

That’s how Claire knew that Ethan wasn’t really ready to tell her what exactly happened, hence why she stuck to texts instead of calls or visits. His lack of any contact, however, hurt her – more so when his previous behaviors similar to this were taken into consideration.

In light of this, her hesitation to initiate any sort of contact between them made perfect sense. All he had to do was let her know that he was okay, however relative it was to say in his current situation, and none of this would be happening. All he had to do was let her in, even if only a little – she’s never asked for anything more. And yet, he couldn’t even give her that, not immediately at least.

It became clear to him that he needed to let her know how much he trusts her. When she said she knew him. When she said she understood him – better than anyone, he added with a grin. When she said she’s falling for him. He trusted all of those words, but his actions didn’t support it. He could see it in her eyes when their gazes crossed earlier that evening. She thought he still sheltered himself from her, and him disappearing, again, was the proof that spoke the loudest.

Slowly, he reached for her hand. A soft brush of his finger against hers, testing the waters to see if she would flinch, if she would push him away or avoid him. When she did none of those things, he carefully covered her hand with his, only to, after a moment, lace their fingers together. Ethan gave her a squeeze, unable to bring himself to look away from the way their hands fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle. She squeezed his hand lightly, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Music swelled around them, tugging on their emotions until it was difficult to breathe. He noticed how her face twisted gently, revealing more of her feelings to him than he’s seen the entire evening. The characters on the stage have separated, each singing their hearts out about the feeling of loss – Claire couldn’t have known that, but the pain in their voices was enough to bring her to the edge of tears by the time the break in the show began.

Before Ethan could say anything, she excused herself breathlessly and walked out of the booth, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And he’s been alone with them for quite some time now.

He began reflecting on the first time he took her to see an opera. The similarity of the situation was striking – he suddenly knew why she suggested this out of every place they could go to. Her thoughtfulness really shouldn’t surprise him, yet he was always amazed with how well she knew what needed to be done. Oftentimes, she neglected her own needs to accommodate others, which left not much space for her in it all. That’s what became one of Ethan’s priorities early on in their relationship – make sure she remembered about herself.

She was taking care of him too, sometimes even unknowingly. Making him take breaks in the middle of the day. Bringing him coffee when he was stuck in meetings and couldn’t walk out of the room for even a second – the whole Board by now knew about their relationship from their first-hand observations, sending him meaningful looks when she left the room.

One thing that spoke more of her feelings for him than anything else was how she persistently stayed by his side through it all. His world was quite literally falling apart, and she was the one holding it in place. She told him that she knew how it felt to risk losing something you’ve worked for, how it felt to come so close to having everything slip away and that she was going to help him in any way she could.

Claire told him all of that when he broke the protocol – yet here they were again. If there was one person between the two of them that had a pattern of behavior, it was him – running away when things got too complicated. Or, as it stood right now, when he didn’t want her to get impacted by his problems. She’s told him that she wants to be impacted, that she wants to help him, because she cares about him. She’s by his side because she cares about him. And he told her he knew and understood her concern, but clearly, he didn’t register it enough, if he was in the exact same position right now. It’s as though he hasn’t learned a thing.

Perhaps she was getting tired of it. If he continued to act the way he’s been acting up until this point, she’d surely be pushed enough to leave him – and he couldn’t imagine a fate worse than that for himself.

It was the last time I let myself run, he thought to himself, cursing for even allowing it to get to this point. Where was his brain when he even considered it a viable option? In what universe would that behavior be okay? Her resolve and persistence became even more striking to him – he knew that he most likely didn’t deserve her.

She was still here, though, so he must have done something right. But one good deed wasn’t enough to make up for letting her down, time and time again. Ethan didn’t need her to tell him that what he was doing was unacceptable – he’s realized it on his own.

It’s never happening again.

Claire walked back into the booth, leaning against the wall to watch him. He was perfectly aware of what she could see in his posture. His nervousness in the way he played with the edge of his jacket. She’s been gone a moment too long and he was a second away from standing up from his seat to go after her.

Ethan turned around at the sound of her steps, refraining from saying anything until she was seated. His hand itched to reach for her, to feel her skin again. He got the permission to do just that, when their gazes finally crossed and she nodded gently. Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, he laced their fingers together, feeling the soft fabric of her dress under his skin.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, raising their joined hands to kiss her wrist. Claire guided the movement, pressing her palm to his cheek. The gesture ensured their eyes didn’t stray from one another and allowed them a moment of clarity.

“Aren’t you tired of running?” her words were laced with emotions so much, it felt like a mental blow to both of them. It was a simple question that he already knew the answer to. Nothing was more obvious to him.

“I am.”

She held his gaze, silent for a moment, then placed her second hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do it again.” she whispered, a hint of a tear shining in her eyes. “We’ve talked about it before, Ethan. I’m tired of going in circles with you.”

“I know.” He brushed the tear away, bringing her closer to rest his forehead against hers. “You don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t.” Claire agreed, nodding her head. She leaned away, lowering their hands and resting them in her lap. “You can tell me anything, in your own time. I’m the last person to judge, because I know that some things need that time. But I would never cut you out the way you just did, especially if I knew that you were worried.”

Ethan lowered his head in shame, finding no words to defend his dense behavior. He knew she was right – his behavior left a lot to be desired. Claire continued.

“It tells me that you don’t view me as your equal. You don’t trust me enough to confide in me. Every time something happens, it’s always the same story.” She sighed, falling deeper into her seat. Her hand was still in his, allowing him that form of contact. “I need transparency here, Ethan. We have rules, that you came up with, that you break every time things get tough.”

He winced at the vulnerable edge in her voice. More than ever before, he felt as though the ground was about to be pulled from beneath him.

“You can’t be in a relationship only a little. Or only on weekends. You’re either in it for good, and you take everything that comes with it, the easy and the difficult, or there’s nothing left to say.”

And there it was.

Ethan’s eyes widened. A hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed, making him feel lightheaded. If he ever had gotten a wake-up call before, this one was the loudest one. And the most devastating.

“Claire, wait.” He said, his voice strained when she tried to pull her hand out of his hold. She glanced at their hands, then up at him, her eyes glassy. Ethan breathed out heavily, pleading with his whole being for her to stay where she was. “You’re right. I haven’t been fair towards you.”

“That’s saying it mildly.”

“I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re my person. I trust you more than anyone else, even if I’m utterly useless at expressing it.” He gave her fingers a tender squeeze, his eyes finding hers urgently. “I’m an asshole for making you worry, and an even bigger one for keeping you in the dark. You deserve better, and lately, I’ve been messing up.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” She mused, tilting her head slightly. “Is there a reason for that?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan’s thumb traced her ring finger “It’s as though there is this outside force that’s making me do all those idiotic things, and before I realize what’s going on, everything’s already going to hell.”

“Sounds like you need to work on your impulse control.” Claire said, a tiny grin appearing on her face.

“You’re my impulse control.”

He cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroking the line of her cheekbone softly. She leaned in, just a fraction of a centimeter. Her gaze was a mix of feelings Ethan couldn’t describe – it made him feel a bit more at ease and at the edge of his seat, all at the same time.

“I’m sorry, Claire.” He muttered, voice low and thick, overcame with emotions. Claire nodded her head, a sigh filling the space between them. Her eyes, even though they were growing softer just a moment ago, were now hardened and serious.

“Don’t ever do that to me, ever again.”

“Of course. I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cleared her throat, straightening her posture. “If you don’t start treating me like your equal here, I will leave you. There’s only so much I can take, Ethan, and I draw the line at this.” Ethan’s entire body froze at a very real perspective of her walking away. The feeling of ground disappearing from beneath him came back, twice as strong. He shook his head, words rushing through his head. “And that would suck, because I don’t want to leave you.”

“I can’t lose you, Claire.”

“Then don’t lose me. Don’t push me away.” She breathed out, at last, squeezing his hand tightly. The atmosphere between them was heavy and it became difficult to breathe. Ethan knew they were not out of the woods, but he felt a bit less nervous when she cracked a smile. “Do I need to tie you down so you’d stop running?”

“You already did.” he mused, waiting for her permission, then leaning in to kissing her cheek softly.

They missed the second part of the show. He leaned close to rest his chin on her shoulder, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her by his side – she wrapped her hand around his forearm in return. Voice low and quiet, he finally began telling her everything, sparing nothing. Once the show ends, he’ll follow her lead – after all, he’s never gotten lost with her by his side.

Notes

Am I above dissing PB in a fic, of all places? Hell no, I’m not. 

Opera because C is clever like that - and we love throwbacks to better times. 

PB is making Ethan act like an angsty teen. And don’t get me started on the ‘prying’ bit. Ma’am, it’s not prying, it’s called caring about your husband boyfriend because something is clearly going on and it seems as though he’s covering someone else’s ass and taking a fall for it. It’s called *concern*.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[apexqueenie]

The Blood King (Bakugou x Reader, Medieval AU) Ch1

Synopsis: In fairytales, princesses like you got to marry handsome princes like your best friend Shoto, but you’re not living a fairytale. You find the harsh realities a punch to the face as you and Sho run away outside palace grounds and into the real world. But the harsh brings out the beautiful, and in your case, it took the form of the scarlet covered barbarian king, whose territory you disturbed.

A/N: This is the first long series that I’m writing, I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, a bit of violence (This is Bakugou lol), eventual smut (I’ll put a warning dw, totally skippable)

[Ch1]->[Ch2]->[Ch3]->[Ch4]->[Ch5]->[Ch6]

You didn’t know how much more badly a plan could go, but here you were, lost, wounded, and scared in the middle of the freaking forest, the sound of a very angry beast trailing after you. You tugged at the unconscious man on the floor, his head bleeding severely. He was losing too much blood and you couldn’t keep pulling him along without stopping the bleeding first. Your only option was to fight. How did this all start exactly? Well, it started when you decided to ditch your wedding.

***

In a daze, you pulled yourself from your slumber, rising to the sound of gentle knocks at your door. “Who’s there?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. 

You shivered slightly and crossed your arms, realizing that you had kicked off your blankets in your sleep. Your best handmaiden, Ochako, barged in, not even bothering to answer the question. 

“Good morning princess” she sang delightfully as she opened your large curtains, allowing the morning light to spill into the huge room. Ochako, although not being of royal blood, was a close friend of yours throughout the years. It was her job to serve you, but you loved her and treated her as your sister. 

“Chako, I told you (y/n) is fine when we’re alone” you said with a yawn.

Ochako hummed as she walked to your wardrobe, sifting through it for the perfect dress. “Ah, but you see your highness, we aren’t alone.”

Before you could question her, a familiar face peeked around the door, heterochromic eyes glancing around the room. “Hi” he says before entering the room and closing the doors behind him.

“SHO!!!” You yelled, launching yourself out of your bed to give your childhood friend a big hug. You haven’t seen him since last summer.

The both of your fathers were Kings of kingdoms who traded with one another, meeting in person once a year to discuss the details. While they both enjoyed a bit of drinking and chess, you and Shoto ran around the gardens barefooted with sticks in hand for fake swordplay. They were always about knights and dragons, and since there were only two of you, you took turns being the dragon or the knight. Princesses weren’t taught to practice swordplay, so Shoto took it upon himself to be your mentor. He taught you what he remembered from his private lessons, insisting that if you were to meet a real dragon like in your games, you would be able to fight it off. 

“But won’t you be here to protect me?” you asked, lowering your stick.

“Yeah,” he said, “but when we meet a real dragon, we’ll be protecting each other.”

Every year, you two would meet to run around the gardens, hiding from your handmaidens and butlers until meal time. Every year, you would shy a bit away from the games and start sparring for real, Sho providing the wooden swords to teach you what he’s learned from the top sword fighters across the continent. Every year your blades danced with his until the both of you could read each other’s movements with a single glance. And every year, you felt a growing affection for the boy that you were too afraid to bring up. 

The two of you talked about your home lives often, sharing stories and complaints about being “perfect” and a “role model” to your citizens. Shoto’s father constantly pushes everyone in their family to their limits, causing the Queen to go insane and burn Shoto, leaving a signature red scar on his left eye. While she was locked in the medical housing part of the castle, Shoto started to understand why his mother lost her mind and silently started to rebel against his father. Your father was similar, always correcting you and forcing you to practice perfect mannerisms. You were his first born, you were supposed to be the perfect example of what a future Queen was to be, especially for your younger siblings; the second born son barely of age to train by sword. If you were anything less, you were to be locked in your room until you had time to “reflect”, your maids unable to speak to you in fear that the King would hear and throw them in the dungeon. Your mother, being too vain to involve herself with any of her children, never saw any of you until your birthdays. She opted to drown herself in self-pampering every other day. Both of your lives were royal hell until “The Meeting”, where the both of you could forget about being perfect for a day.  

You wrapped your arms around Shoto’s neck and buried your face in the crook of his neck, the both of you clutching each other close. His body radiated its own heat, warming you more than the thin fabric of your nightdress could. You pulled away, realising he got even taller this year. 

“I missed you Sho!” you smiled.

“Likewise” he replied, slinging his sword from his back, only there was another object wrapped in silk next to it. “Did...anything interesting happen this year?” 

“Hmmm,” you pondered, walking to your vanity and grabbing a brush. “Well, Jinko is pregnant again.”

“Your mother?”

“Heh, she was never around enough to be a ‘mother’, she’s merely my birth-giver.” you snorted, combing your soft locks. 

“So, is that the fourth…?”

“Fifth.”

“Well then.”

“Yep, and as soon as she’s done pushing it out, she’ll ignore it 364 days of the year. Hell, Ocha was there more for me than my mother ever could be” you say, earning a small blush from the girl.

Shoto sighed, taking a seat on the edge of your bed and placing his sword next to him. 

“Anyways, what’s the meeting about this time?” you asked now moving onto cleaning your face.

“That’s… uh...well, I have to talk to you about something soon, but first, I brought you a gift” Sho said a bit awkwardly. He turned and handed you the silk wrapped object. You took it gently, afraid of breaking it, that was, until you unwrapped it. Your mouth dropped as you felt the silk fall off and onto the floor, completely forgotten as you held up the object in awe. In your hand was a long silver blade engraved with delicately curved patterns surrounding a single mother pearl at the center and down the blade itself. The hilt fit perfectly in your hands, the weight completely balanced. 

You were damn near about to cry. “Sho...its-”

“Get dressed so we can try it out” he smiles and hands you the sheath.

Giddily, you sheath your sword and headed to the dressing curtain where Ochako waited for you with a big smile. She seemed to have known about this whole visit because she held up a bit more of a casual dress, one that wasn’t as long as it normally would be. You never understood why you had to wear dresses as a princess, but it couldn’t be helped, you had no control over your clothing choices. Ochako however, had the power to hem the dresses for you so you could run with a bit more freedom. 

***

“Sho! I can’t believe you did this! How’d you manage to sneak this by your dad?” you ask once you are dressed. You moved to take the direct route to the gardens, but Shoto pulled you to a different route around. “Sho?”

“That’s the thing I have to talk to you about,” he said, peeking into all the rooms and hallways before entering, “I don’t want to run into anyone else right now.” He pulls you along swiftly until you reach the gardens, taking one last look around you before relaxing a bit.

“Hey, Sho, what the heck is going on?” you ask, lowering your voice.

The boy in front of you couldn’t look you in the eyes. He was worried about something, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. Trying to ease his nerves, you reach out and gently squeeze his hand, but he doesn’t respond back. Instead, he just sighs, finally about to say something.

“So...you know how we...always meet up every year?” he asks.

You nod, slightly confused at where this was going.

“Well, our fathers have been discussing…”

“Discussing what?”

“Something very.. special for next week-”

“My birthday isn’t for a couple of months”

“It’s not that-”

“Then?”

He turned his head and sighed. 

“...Discussing our marriage…” he trails off.

“Sho! Oh wow, This-this is great!” you beamed. You always thought about the day you’ll have to marry someone. Your role as a princess was to marry a prince, and become a beloved Queen to your kingdom. You dreaded that it would be for trading purposes, that you’d have to marry some pudgy old man so that your father could share more land, but you had the option to marry your best friend! Anyone would be delighted at the thought...anyone but Shoto.

Your smile quickly faded as you studied his face. He expressed a mix of guilt, awkwardness, worry, and something you haven’t seen before…was that fear?

“What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, still unable to look at you, “I can’t do this-”

“Is it too early still? Because it’s ok, we don’t have to-” The words stung, but you couldn’t let that get to you.

“No! No, that’s not it, it’s just that I can’t”

“You can’t what? Tell me what so I can help you.”

“I… I love you (y/n), just...not like that” he says, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What? Wait, what do you mean?” you asked, stomach dropping.

“I just mean that I, I don’t see you like that.” he said.

“So, I’m not good enough?” you shook your head.

“-No-”

You could feel the tears stinging in your eyes, “so...there’s someone else?”

He lets go of your hand to rub his arm in a nervous manner, “No, that’s not it either, I just don’t know how to explain it-”

But he was lying. You knew Shoto was a bad liar around you. It was bad enough that he couldn’t look at you, but even worse that he was taking steps away from you, slowly inching backwards in the opposite direction. He wasn’t trusting you with something and you didn’t know why, but your anger took over, and suddenly, you didn’t want to know why either.

“Well then, I’ll leave it to you to inform our fathers that this wedding won’t be happening, Todoroki.” you huffed. You saw the hurt in his face when you called him by his last name, but you could care less right now. You turned around and headed back to the castle, back to your room, and back to Ochako so you could cry in comfort. You kept your eyes trained at the ground, a silent message to all your servants to leave you alone. However, the message was left unknown to someone who didn’t live in the palace, someone like King Enji. 

You were cut off from the path to your room by the tall and heavily built man, his eyes cold and harsh staring at you from above. You stopped and immediately curtsied in respect, as you were representing your father every time you met with a leader of another kingdom. 

“Good morning, King Enji.” you said, giving him a well practiced ‘princess smile’.

He only grunted in response, nodding his head to the sword strapped to your back. “I see you received my son’s wedding gift, do you find it satisfactory?”

“Oh-the sword, right! It’s beautiful, your greatness. I am so humbly honored to receive such a gift.” you bow. You had completely forgotten it was there after what happened with Shoto. It was supposed to be a wedding gift, a sign of his love for you, but he didn’t love you like you loved him. You should be throwing this thing away, you should feel disgusted...so why did those words come out so naturally? Why did the sword feel so familiar? Hopefully Ochako could help you answer those. 

King Enji nodded in approval, motioning to some servants he had waiting out of your sight. “You have good manners, young one. Perhaps my son could learn a thing or two from you when it comes to respecting his elders.”

Two female servants took place besides you, awaiting further instructions from their King. 

“Your father has agreed to allow me to provide the dress, courtesy of the profits he helped me make last year. My servants will be taking your measurements, as well as note your likes and dislikes for the preparations.” he says before walking off.

All you could do was smile now. You couldn’t make your father look bad, even in front of servants. You continued to hold back tears as the handmaidens escorted you to your chambers.

So much for spilling your heart out to Ochako. 

***

The maidens were merciless, insisting that every measurement be as precise as possible. You tried to delay them, but your efforts were futile. They brought every bit of conversation back to the dress, and to the wedding plans you know you won’t have. Guards were installed in front to ensure no one came in or out until every inch of your body was measured to perfection. They measured your breasts and behind about five times over to ensure that “your best qualities were perfectly framed” for the wedding. Best qualities? Were you just boobs and ass for the future King? You sighed, still letting them continue their measuring. Shoto wouldn’t have cared…

No, he was Todoroki to you now, until he can give you an explanation. 

But...do you even deserve one?

As King Enji’s servants gave you a break to bring out supplies for your fitting, you walked over to the sword your “fiance” gave you, unsheathed for its glory to shine on your bed. He knew how you liked it, designing it to perfectly mirror you. He took note of everything you loved, remembering your style interests from whenever you two would talk for hours on end. You traced the flawless engravings on the blade itself, almost tearing up again. Turning the sword over, you saw the engraving on the bottom of the hilt, small, yet beautiful nonetheless. 

“Let’s protect each other from now on”

All the anger you felt before was gone, replaced by pure guilt.

He really did love you.

Just not in the way that you had hoped. 

You were being selfish, and you needed to make it right. 

Before you knew it, you were yanked back to the full length mirrors for more measurements. 

Both the measuring and interrogations lasted nearly the entire day with the servants drawing several designs and re-measuring you for each one. Of course, they didn’t accept a “that looks fine” or “this one is good'', so they continued to create new ones, each more extravagant and beautiful than the last. Evening came, and the maidens packed their materials to head back to their own kingdom. You thanked them sincerely for all their hard work and rushed off to say goodbye to Shoto until he disappeared over the hill and into the forest, like you’ve always done...except you weren’t.

You arrived to meet your father, King Enji, and Shoto in the main hall a little out of breath while they said their last goodbyes. King Enji broke his attention away from your father to give you a polite nod, acknowledging your presence. Your father noticed this and turned to give you a big hug, laughing heartily. 

“Can you believe it? You’re getting married in a week! I need to tell your mother straight away! She would be so proud.” he says, pulling strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“Yes, I believe she would” you smile. You weren’t in the mood to explain that she’d only use this as an excuse to out-fashion you on your own special day. 

Shoto hung his head in silence right next to his dad, still not making eye contact with you. You tried to pay him no mind and instead focused on building up your courage to ask something of King Enji in the politest way possible. 

When you got the chance, you squeezed out every bit of bravery left in your system to say “Erm, King Enji, is it alright if Prince Shoto stays?”, twiddling your fingers innocently.

The red headed man looked a bit taken back by the question, but he didn’t seem opposed to the idea. He snorted, waving his hand to Shoto, who stared at you with an open mouth.

“Ah, young love,” your father chuckled, and went to see his comrade out the door.

Without a second to spare, you grabbed Shoto’’s hand and led him to your room, closing the door behind you quickly. 

“(y/n), what are you doing?” he asked, watching you shove a chair underneath the handles of your doors. You had enough palace servants for today. 

You turned around and immediately threw your arms around his waist. He stood rigid with surprise before hesitantly hugging you back with a light grip. He was still confused from the fiasco earlier, but didn’t blame you.

“Sho....I’m so sorry, I should have understood.” you whispered. “I hope you could forgive me..”

He gave you a slight squeeze, “Of-course, (y/n). I’m sorry too, I-”

“Stop. You don’t need to explain anything to me. All we need to do is get this wedding cancelled.” you interrupt, looking up at him. “Also, I’m glad you didn’t say anything.” 

He looked relieved, giving you a soft smile. “Thanks, (y/n).” He pulls away from you and takes a seat on your bed next to where your blade still sat, unbothered. “But, I realized that if I were to tell my father, he’d assume it to be an insult no matter what I say, and end the friendship. with your people. Then he’d have me married off to someone else and make my life more hell than it already was. I’d rather be married to my best friend than a stranger.” he smiled.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words escaped you. You were stumped. After all of this, it turned in your favor, but you didn’t want this anymore. 

You huffed and stood up abruptly, heading to your drawers and searching through them. 

“What are you-?” Sho trailed off, standing up with you. 

Finally, you found an assorted set of bags you use to collect things on your trips to the forest. With most of your years being devoted to molding you into a perfect queen, you haven’t used these for anything more than bringing home a pretty set of rocks in hopes that your mother would pay attention to you. Now, you were finding the biggest ones, planning to fill them with essentials to help you survive the woods. 

“We’re not going to do anything we’re forced to be into,” you said, “No matter what, our fathers won’t allow us to cancel this, but they can’t do anything if we’re not here.”

“(y/n), you’re not thinking of leaving are you?” he asked, worry apparent all over his face. 

You handed Sho a bag, staring him straight in the eye. “I’m absolutely thinking of that.” You grabbed a bag for yourself and shoved the rest back into your drawers. “We both have siblings who can inherit the throne, right? And if we disappear together and write a note saying something like “oh this is going too fast and we decided to take a break together in the mountains”- neither of our fathers could blame each other, so-”

“Hey,” Sho laid a hand on your shoulder, “we don’t have to do this. I told you, I really thought about this, and as long as it’s you, I’ll be happy-”

“No, Sho,” you said, shrugging off the hand and looking through your closet for extra clothes, “you can tell yourself that, but that’s not going to be true. I want you to be just as happy, and that’s not gonna happen if we go through with this marriage. Look, I know Ocha’s grandmother lives in a small town East of here, past the forest. If we can get there, we can rest and figure out what to do, ok?”

You looked at him for confirmation, his brows furrowed and his lips spread into a thin line. For a few seconds, he contemplated the terrible outcomes of your plan, but he knew you would just do this yourself if he didn’t come with you. 

Finally, he nodded before he could change his mind.

This probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but at least you were together.

[shortnotsweet]

Bakudeku: A Non-Comprehensive Dissection of the Exploitation of Working Bodies, the Murder of Annoying Children, and a Rivals-to-Lovers Complex

I. Bakudeku in Canon, And Why Anti’s Need to Calm the Fuck Down

II. Power is Power: the Brain-Melting Process of Normalization and Toxic Masculinity

III. How to Kill Middle Schoolers, and Why We Should

IV. Parallels in Abuse, EnemiesRivals-to-Lovers, and the Necessity of Redemption ft. ATLA’s Zuko

V. Give it to Me Straight. It’s Homophobic.

VI. Love in Perspective, from the East v. West

VII. Stuck in the Sludge, the Past, and Season One

Disclaimer

It needs to be said that there is definitely a place for disagreement, discourse, debate, and analysis: that is a sign of an active fandom that’s heavily invested, and not inherently a bad thing at all. Considering the amount of source material we do have (from the manga, to the anime, to the movies, to the light novels, to the official art), there are going to be warring interpretations, and that’s inevitable.

I started watching and reading MHA pretty recently, and just got into the fandom. I was weary for a reason, and honestly, based on what I’ve seen, I’m still weary now. I’ve seen a lot of anti posts, and these are basically my thoughts. This entire thing is in no way comprehensive, and it’s my own opinion, so take it with a grain of salt. If I wanted to be thorough about this, I would’ve included manga panels, excerpts from the light novel, shots from the anime, links to other posts/essays/metas that have inspired this, etc. but I’m tired and not about that life right now, so, this is what it is. This is poorly organized, but maybe I’ll return to fix it.

Let’s begin.

Bakudeku in Canon, And Why Anti’s Need to Calm the Fuck Down

There are a lot of different reasons, that can be trivial as you like, to ship or not to ship two (or more) characters. It could be based purely off of character design, proximity, aversion to another ship, or hypotheticals. And I do think that it’s totally valid if someone dislikes the ship or can’t get on board with his character because to them, it does come across as abuse, and the implications make them uncomfortable or, or it just feels unhealthy. If that is your takeaway, and you are going to stick to your guns, the more power to you.

But Bakudeku’s relationship has canonically progressed to the point where it’s not the emotionally (or physically) abusive clusterfuck some people portray it to be, and it’s cheap to assume that it would be, based off of their characterizations as middle schoolers. Izuku intentionally opens the story as a naive little kid who views the lens of the Hero society through rose colored glasses and arguably wants nothing more than assimilation into that society; Bakugou is a privileged little snot who embodies the worst and most hypocritical beliefs of this system. Both of them are intentionally proven wrong. Both are brainwashed, as many little children are, by the propaganda and societal norms that they are exposed to. Both of their arcs include unlearning crucial aspects of the Hero ideology in order to become true heroes.

I will personally never simp for Bakugou because for the longest time, I couldn't help but think of him as a little kid on the playground screaming at the top of his lungs because someone else is on the swingset. He’s red in the face, there are probably veins popping out of his neck, he’s losing it. It’s easy to see why people would prefer Tododeku to Bakudeku.

Even now, seeing him differently, I still personally wouldn’t date Bakugou, especially if I had other options. Why? I probably wouldn’t want to date any of the guys who bullied me, especially because I think that schoolyard bullying, even in middle school, affected me largely in a negative way and created a lot of complexes I’m still trying to work through. I haven’t built a better relationship with them, and I’m not obligated to. Still, I associate them with the kind of soft trauma that they inflicted upon me, and while to them it was probably impersonal, to me, it was an intimate sort of attack that still affects me. That being said, that is me. Those are my personal experiences, and while they could undoubtedly influence how I interpret relationships, I do not want to project and hinder my own interpretation of Deku.

The reality is that Deku himself has an innate understanding of Bakugou that no one else does; I mention later that he seems to understand his language, implicitly, and I do stand by that. He understands what it is he’s actually trying to say, often why he’s saying it, and while others may see him as wimpy or unable to stand up for himself, that’s simply not true. Part of Deku’s characterization is that he is uncommonly observant and empathetic; I’m not denying that Bakugou caused harm or inflicted damage, but infantilizing Deku and preaching about trauma that’s not backed by canon and then assuming random people online excuse abuse is just...the leap of leaps, and an actual toxic thing to do. I’ve read fan works where Bakugou is a bully, and that’s all, and has caused an intimate degree of emotional, mental, and physical insecurity from their middle school years that prevents their relationship from changing, and that’s for the better. I’m not going to argue and say that it’s not an interesting take, or not valid, or has no basis, because it does. Its basis is the character that Bakugou was in middle school, and the person he was when he entered UA.

Not only is Bakugou — the current Bakugou, the one who has accumulated memories and experiences and development — not the same person he was at the beginning of the story, but Deku is not the same person, either. Maybe who they are fundamentally, at their core, stays the same, but at the beginning and end of any story, or even their arcs within the story, the point is that characters will undergo change, and that the reader will gain perspective.

“You wanna be a hero so bad? I’ve got a time-saving idea for you. If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life...go take a swan dive off the roof!”

Yes. That is a horrible thing to tell someone, even if you are a child, even if you don’t understand the implications, even if you don’t mean what it is you are saying. Had someone told me that in middle school, especially given our history and the context of our interactions, I don’t know if I would ever have forgiven them.

Here’s the thing: I’m not Deku. Neither is anyone reading this. Deku is a fictional character, and everyone we know about him is extrapolated from source material, and his response to this event follows:

“Idiot! If I really jumped, you’d be charged with bullying me into suicide! Think before you speak!”

I think it’s unfair to apply our own projections as a universal rather than an interpersonal interpretation; that’s not to say that the interpretation of Bakudeku being abusive or having unbalanced power dynamics isn’t valid, or unfounded, but rather it’s not a universal interpretation, and it’s not canon. Deku is much more of a verbal thinker; in comparison, Bakugou is a visual one, at least in the format of the manga, and as such, we get various panels demonstrating his guilt, and how deep it runs. His dialogue and rapport with Deku has undeniably shifted, and it’s very clear that the way they treat each other has changed from when they were younger. Part of Bakugou’s growth is him gaining self awareness, and eventually, the strength to wield that. He knows what a fucked up little kid he was, and he carries the weight of that.

“At that moment, there were no thoughts in my head. My body just moved on its own.”

There’s a part of me that really, really disliked Bakugou going into it, partially because of what I’d seen and what I’d heard from a limited, outside perspective. I felt like Bakugou embodied the toxic masculinity (and to an extent, I still believe that) and if he won in some way, that felt like the patriarchy winning, so I couldn't help but want to muzzle and leash him before releasing him into the wild.

The reality, however, of his character in canon is that it isn’t very accurate to assume that he would be an abusive partner in the future, or that Midoryia has not forgiven him to some extent already, that the two do not care about each other or are singularly important, that they respect each other, or that the narrative has forgotten any of this.

Don’t mistake me for a Bakugou simp or apologist. I’m not, but while I definitely could also see Tododeku (and I have a soft spot for them, too, their dynamic is totally different and unique, and Todoroki is arguably treated as the tritagonist) and I’m ambivalent about Izuocha (which is written as cannoncially romantic) I do believe that canonically, Bakugou and Deku are framed as soulmates/character foils, Sasuke + Naruto, Kageyama + Hinata style. Their relationship is arguably the focus of the series. That’s not to undermine the importance or impact of Deku’s relationships with other characters, and theirs with him, but in terms of which one takes priority, and which one this all hinges on?

The manga is about a lot of things, yes, but if it were to be distilled into one relationship, buckle up, because it’s the Bakudeku show.

Power is Power: the Brain-Melting Process of Normalization and Toxic Masculinity

One of the ways in which the biopolitical prioritization of Quirks is exemplified within Hero society is through Quirk marriages. Endeavor partially rationalizes the abuse of his family through the creation of a child with the perfect quirk, a child who can be molded into the perfect Hero. People with powerful, or useful abilities, are ranked high on the hierarchy of power and privilege, and with a powerful ability, the more opportunities and avenues for success are available to them.

For the most part, Bakugou is a super spoiled, privileged little rich kid who is born talented but is enabled for his aggressive behavior and, as a child, cannot move past his many internalized complexes, treats his peers like shit, and gets away with it because the hero society he lives in either has this “boys will be boys” mentality, or it’s an example of the way that power, or Power, is systematically prioritized in this society. The hero system enables and fosters abusers, people who want power and publicity, and people who are genetically predisposed to have advantages over others. There are plenty of good people who believe in and participate in this system, who want to be good, and who do good, but that doesn’t change the way that the hero society is structured, the ethical ambiguity of the Hero Commission, and the way that Heroes are but pawns, idols with machine guns, used to sell merch to the public, to install faith in the government, or the current status quo, and reinforce capitalist propaganda. Even All Might, the epitome of everything a Hero should be, is drained over the years, and exists as a concept or idea, when in reality he is a hollow shell with an entire person inside, struggling to survive. Hero society is functionally dependent on illusion.

In Marxist terms: There is no truth, there is only power.

Although Bakugou does change, and I think that while he regrets his actions, what is long overdue is him verbally expressing his remorse, both to himself and Deku. One might argue that he’s tried to do it in ways that are compatible with his limited emotional range of expression, and Deku seems to understand this language implicitly.

I am of the opinion that the narrative is building up to a verbal acknowledgement, confrontation, and subsequent apology that only speaks what has gone unspoken.

That being said, Bakugou is a great example of the way that figures of authority (parents, teachers, adults) and institutions both in the real world and this fictional universe reward violent behavior while also leaving mental and emotional health — both his own and of the people Bakugou hurts — unchecked, and part of the way he lashes out at others is because he was never taught otherwise.

And by that, I’m referring to the ways that are to me, genuinely disturbing. For example, yelling at his friends is chill. But telling someone to kill themselves, even casually and without intent and then misinterpreting everything they do as a ploy to make you feel weak because you're projecting? And having no teachers stop and intervene, either because they are afraid of you or because they value the weight that your Quirk can benefit society over the safety of children? That, to me, is both real and disturbing.

Not only that, but his parents (at least, Mitsuki), respond to his outbursts with more outbursts, and while this is likely the culture of their home and I hesitate to call it abusive, I do think that it contributed to the way that he approaches things. Bakugou as a character is very complex, but I think that he is primarily an example of the way that the Hero System fails people.

I don’t think we can write off the things he’s done, especially using the line of reasoning that “He didn’t mean it that way”, because in real life, children who hurt others rarely mean it like that either, but that doesn’t change the effect it has on the people who are victimized, but to be absolutely fair, I don’t think that the majority of Bakudeku shippers, at least now, do use that line of reasoning. Most of them seem to have a handle on exactly how fucked up the Hero society is, and exactly why it fucks up the people embedded within that society.

The characters are positioned in this way for a reason, and the discoveries made and the development that these characters undergo are meant to reveal more about the fictional world — and, perhaps, our world — as the narrative progresses.

The world of the Hero society is dependent, to some degree, on biopolitics. I don’t think we have enough evidence to suggest that people with Quirks or Quirkless people place enough identity or placement within society to become equivalent to marginalized groups, exactly, but we can draw parallels to the way that Deku and by extent Quirkless people are viewed as weak, a deviation, or disabled in some way. Deviants, or non-productive bodies, are shunned for their inability to perform ideal labor. While it is suggested to Deku that he could become a police officer or pursue some other occupation to help people, he believes that he can do the most positive good as a Hero. In order to be a Hero, however, in the sense of a career, one needs to have Power.

Deviation from the norm will be punished or policed unless it is exploitable; in order to become integrated into society, a deviant must undergo a process of normalization and become a working, exploitable body. It is only through gaining power from All Might that Deku is allowed to assimilate from the margins and into the upper ranks of society; the manga and the anime give the reader enough perspective, context, and examples to allow us to critique and deconstruct the society that is solely reliant on power.

Through his societal privileges, interpersonal biases, internalized complexes, and his subsequent unlearning of these ideologies, Bakugou provides examples of the way that the system simultaneously fails and indoctrinates those who are targeted, neglected, enabled by, believe in, and participate within the system.

Bakudeku are two sides of the same coin. We are shown visually that the crucial turning point and fracture in their relationship is when Bakugou refuses to take Deku’s outstretched hand; the idea of Deku offering him help messes with his adolescent perspective in that Power creates a hierarchy that must be obeyed, and to be helped is to be weak is to be made a loser.

Largely, their character flaws in terms of understanding the hero society are defined and entangled within the concept of power. Bakugou has power, or privilege, but does not have the moral character to use it as a hero, and believes that Power, or winning, is the only way in which to view life. Izuku has a much better grasp on the way in which heroes wield power (their ideologies can, at first, be differentiated as winning vs. saving), and is a worthy successor because of this understanding, and of circumstance. However, in order to become a Hero, our hero must first gain the Power that he lacks, and learn to wield it.

As the characters change, they bridge the gaps of their character deficiencies, and are brought closer together through character parallelism.

Two sides of the same coin, an outstretched hand.

They are better together.

How to Kill Middle Schoolers, and Why We Should

I think it’s fitting that in the manga, a critical part of Bakugou’s arc explicitly alludes to killing the middle school version of himself in order to progress into a young adult. In the alternative covers Horikoshi released, one of them was a close up of Bakugou in his middle school uniform, being stabbed/impaled, with blood rolling out of his mouth. Clearly this references the scene in which he sacrifices himself to save Deku, on a near-instinctual level.

To me, this only cements Horikoshi’s intent that middle school Bakugou must be debunked, killed, discarded, or destroyed in order for Bakugou the hero to emerge, which is why people who do actually excuse his actions or believe that those actions define him into young adulthood don’t really understand the necessity for change, because they seem to imply that he doesn’t need/cannot reach further growth, and there doesn’t need to be a separation between the Bakugou who is, at heart, volatile and repressed the angry, and the Bakugou who sacrifices himself, a hero who saves people.

Plot twist: there does need to be a difference. Further plot twist: there is a difference.

In sacrificing himself for Deku, Bakugou himself doesn't die, but the injury is fatal in the sense that it could've killed him physically and yet symbolizes the selfish, childish part of him that refused to accept Deku, himself, and the inevitability of change. In killing those selfish remnants, he could actually become the kind of hero that we the reader understand to be the true kind.

That’s why I think that a lot of the people who stress his actions as a child without acknowledging the ways he has changed, grown, and tried to fix what he has broken don’t really get it, because it was always part of his character arc to change and purposely become something different and better. If the effects of his worst and his most childish self stick with you more, and linger despite that, that’s okay. But distilling his character down to the wrong elements doesn’t get you the bare essentials; what it gets you is a skewed and shallow version of a person. If you’re okay with that version, that is also fine.

But you can’t condemn others who aren’t fine with that incomplete version, and to become enraged that others do not see him as you do is childish.

Bakugou’s change and the emphasis on that change is canon.

Parallels in Abuse, EnemiesRivals-to-Lovers, and the Necessity of Redemption ft. ATLA’s Zuko

In real life, the idea that “oh, he must bully you because he likes you” is often used as a way to brush aside or to excuse the action of bullying itself, as if a ‘secret crush’ somehow negates the effects of bullying on the victim or the inability of the bully to properly process and manifest their emotions in certain ways. It doesn’t. It often enables young boys to hurt others, and provides figures of authority to overlook the real source of schoolyard bullying or peer review. The “secret crush”, in real life, is used to undermine abuse, justify toxic masculinity, and is essentially used as a non-solution solution.

A common accusation is that Bakudeku shippers jump on the pairing because they romanticize pairing a bully and a victim together, or believe that the only way for Bakugou to atone for his past would be to date Midoryia in the future. This may be true for some people, in which case, that’s their own preference, but based on my experience and what I’ve witnessed, that’s not the case for most.

The difference being is that as these are characters, we as readers or viewers are meant to analyze them. Not to justify them, or to excuse their actions, but we are given the advantage of the outsider perspective to piece their characters together in context, understand why they are how they are, and witness them change; maybe I just haven’t been exposed to enough of the fandom, but no one (I’ve witnessed) treats the idea that “maybe Bakugou has feelings he can’t process or understand and so they manifest in aggressive and unchecked ways'' as a solution to his inability to communicate or process in a healthy way, rather it is just part of the explanation of his character, something is needs to — and is — working through. The solution to his middle school self is not the revelation of a “teehee, secret crush”, but self-reflection, remorse, and actively working to better oneself, which I do believe is canonically reflected, especially as of recently.

In canon, they are written to be partners, better together than apart, and I genuinely believe that one can like the Bakudeku dynamic not by route of romanticization but by observation.

I do think we are meant to see parallels between him and Endeavor; Endeavor is a high profile abuser who embodies the flaws and hypocrisy of the hero system. Bakugou is a schoolyard bully who emulates and internalizes the flaws of this system as a child, likely due to the structure of the society and the way that children will absorb the propaganda they are exposed to; the idea that Quirks, or power, define the inherent value of the individual, their ability to contribute to society, and subsequently their fundamental human worth. The difference between them is the fact that Endeavor is the literal adult who is fully and knowingly active within a toxic, corrupt system who forces his family to undergo a terrifying amount of trauma and abuse while facing little to no consequences because he knows that his status and the values of their society will protect him from those consequences. In other words, Endeavor is the threat of what Bakugou could have, and would have, become without intervention or genuine change.

Comparisons between characters, as parallels or foils, are tricky in that they imply but cannot confirm sameness. Having parallels with someone does not make them the same, by the way, but can serve to illustrate contrasts, or warnings. Harry Potter, for example, is meant to have obvious parallels with Tom Riddle, with similar abilities, and tragic upbringings. That doesn’t mean Harry grows up to become Lord Voldemort, but rather he helps lead a cross-generational movement to overthrow the facist regime. Harry is offered love, compassion, and friends, and does not embrace the darkness within or around him. As far as moldy old snake men are concerned, they do not deserve a redemption arc because they do not wish for one, and the truest of change only occurs when you actively try to change.

To be frank, either way, Bakugou was probably going to become a good Hero, in the sense that Endeavor is a ‘good’ Hero. Hero capitalized, as in a pro Hero, in the sense that it is a career, an occupation, and a status. Because of his strong Quirk, determination, skill, and work ethic, Bakugou would have made a good Hero. Due to his lack of character, however, he was not on the path to become a hero; defender of the weak, someone who saves people to save people, who is willing to make sacrifices detrimental to themselves, who saves people out of love.

It is necessary for him to undergo both a redemption arc and a symbolic death and rebirth in order for him to follow the path of a hero, having been inspired and prompted by Deku.

I personally don’t really like Endeavor’s little redemption arc, not because I don’t believe that people can change or that they shouldn't at least try to atone for the atrocities they have committed, but because within any narrative, a good redemption arc is important if it matters; what also matters is the context of that arc, and whether or not it was needed. For example, in ATLA, Zuko’s redemption arc is widely regarded as one of the best arcs in television history, something incredible. And it is. That shit fucks. In a good way.

It was confirmed that Azula was also going to get a redemption arc, had Volume 4 gone on as planned, and it was tentatively approached in the comics, which are considered canon. She is an undeniably bad person (who is willing to kill, threaten, exploit, and colonize), but she is also a child, and as viewers, we witness and recognize the factors that contributed to her (debatable) sociopathy, and the way that the system she was raised in failed her. Her family failed her; even Uncle Iroh, the wise mentor who helps guide Zuko to see the light, is willing to give up on her immediately, saying that she’s “crazy” and needs to be “put down”. Yes, it’s comedic, and yes, it’s pragmatic, but Azula is fourteen years old. Her mother is banished, her father is a psychopath, and her older brother, from her perspective, betrayed and abandoned her. She doesn’t have the emotional support that Zuko does; she exploits and controls her friends because it’s all she’s been taught to do; she says herself, her “own mother thought [she] was a monster; she was right, of course, but it still [hurts]”. A parent who does not believe in you, or a parent that uses you and will hurt you, is a genuine indicator of trauma.

The writers understood that both Zuko and Azula deserved redemption arcs. One was arguably further gone than the other, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are both children, products of their environment, who have the time, motive, and reason to change.

In contrast, you know who wouldn’t have deserved a redemption arc? Ozai. That simply would not have been interesting, wouldn’t have served the narrative well, and honestly, is not needed, thematically or otherwise. Am I comparing Ozai to Endeavor? Basically, yes. Fuck those guys. I don’t see a point in Endeavor’s little “I want to be a good dad now” arc, and I think that we don’t need to sympathize with characters in order to understand them or be interested in them. I want Touya/Dabi to expose his abuse, for his career to crumble, and then for him to die.

If they are not challenging the system that we the viewer are meant to question, and there is no thematic relevance to their redemption, is it even needed?

On that note, am I saying that Bakugou is the equivalent to Zuko? No, lmao. Definitely not. They are different characters with different progressions and different pressures. What I am saying is that good redemption arcs shouldn’t be handed out like candy to babies; it is the quality, rather than the quantity, that makes a redemption arc good. In terms of the commentary of the narrative, who needs a redemption arc, who is deserving, and who does it make sense to give one to?

In this case, Bakugou checks those boxes. It was always in the cards for him to change, and he has. In fact, he’s still changing.

Give it to Me Straight. It’s Homophobic.

There does seem to be an urge to obsessively gender either Bakugou or Deku, in making Deku the ultra-feminine, stereotypically hyper-sexualized “woman” of the relationship, with Bakugou becoming similarly sexualized but depicted as the hyper-masculine bodice ripper. On some level, that feels vaguely homophobic if not straight up misogynistic, in that in a gay relationship there’s an urge to compel them to conform under heteronormative stereotypes in order to be interpreted as real or functional. On one hand, I will say that in a lot of cases it feels like more of an expression of a kink, or fetishization and subsequent expression of internalized misogyny, at least, rather than a genuine exploration of the complexity and power imbalances of gender dynamics, expression, and boundaries.

That being said, I don’t think that that problematic aspect of shipping is unique to Bakudeku, or even to the fandom in general. We’ve all read fan work or see fanart of most gay ships in a similiar manner, and I think it’s a broader issue to be addressed than blaming it on a singular ship and calling it a day.

One interpretation of Bakugou’s character is his repression and the way his character functions under toxic masculinity, in a society’s egregious disregard for mental and emotional health (much like in the real world), the horrifying ways in which rage is rationalized or excused due to the concept of masculinity, and the way that characteristics that are associated with femininity — intellect, empathy, anxiety, kindness, hesitation, softness — are seen as stereotypically “weak”, and in men, traditionally emasculating. In terms of the way that the fictional universe is largely about societal priority and power dynamics between individuals and the way that extends to institutions, it’s not a total stretch to guess that gender as a construct is a relevant topic to expand on or at least keep in mind for comparison.

I think that the way in which characters are gendered and the extent to which that is a result of invasive heteronormativity and fetishization is a really important conversation to have, but using it as a case-by-case evolution of a ship used to condemn people isn’t conductive, and at that point, it’s treated as less of a real concern but an issue narrowly weaponised.

Love in Perspective, from the East v. West

Another thing I think could be elaborated on and written about in great detail is the way that the Eastern part of the fandom and the Western part of the fandom have such different perspectives on Bakudeku in particular. I am not going to go in depth with this, and there are many other people who could go into specifics, but just as an overview:

The manga and the anime are created for and targeted at a certain audience; our take on it will differ based on cultural norms, decisions in translation, understanding of the genre, and our own region-specific socialization. This includes the way in which we interpret certain relationships, the way they resonate with us, and what we do and do not find to be acceptable. Of course, this is not a case-by-case basis, and I’m sure there are plenty of people who hold differing beliefs within one area, but speaking generally, there is a reason that Bakudeku is not regarded as nearly as problematic in the East.

Had this been written by a Western creator, marketed primarily to and within the West (for reference, while I am Chinese, but I have lived in the USA for most of my life, so my own perspective is undoubtedly westernized), I would’ve immediately jumped to make comparisons between the Hero System and the American police system, in that a corrupt, or bastardized system is made no less corrupt for the people who do legitimately want to do good and help people, when that system disproportionately values and targets others while relying on propaganda that society must be reliant on that system in order to create safe communities when in reality it perpetuates just as many issues as it appears to solve, not to mention the way it attracts and rewards violent and power-hungry people who are enabled to abuse their power. I think comparisons can still be made, but in terms of analysis, it should be kept in mind that the police system in other parts of the world do not have the same history, place, and context as it does in America, and the police system in Japan, for example, probably wasn’t the basis for the Hero System.

As much as I do believe in the Death of the Author in most cases, the intent of the author does matter when it comes to content like this, if merely on the basis that it provides context that we may be missing as foreign viewers.

As far as the intent of the author goes, Bakugou is on a route of redemption.

He deserves it. It is unavoidable. That, of course, may depend on where you’re reading this.

Stuck in the Sludge, the Past, and Season One

If there’s one thing, to me, that epitomizes middle school Bakugou, it’s him being trapped in a sludge monster, rescued by his Quirkless childhood friend, and unable to believe his eyes. He clings to the ideology he always has, that Quirkless means weak, that there’s no way that Deku could have grown to be strong, or had the capacity to be strong all along. Bakugou is wrong about this, and continuously proven wrong. It is only when he accepts that he is wrong, and that Deku is someone to follow, that he starts his real path to heroics.

If Bakudeku’s relationship does not appeal to someone for whatever reason, there’s nothing wrong with that. They can write all they want about why they don’t ship it, or why it bothers them, or why they think it’s problematic. If it is legitimately triggering to you, then by all means, avoid it, point it out, etc. but do not undermine the reality of abuse simply to point fingers, just because you don’t like a ship. People who intentionally use the anti tag knowing it’ll show up in the main tag, go after people who are literally minding their own business, and accuse people of supporting abuse are the ones looking for a fight, and they’re annoying as hell because they don’t bring anything to the table. No evidence, no analysis, just repeated projection.

To clarify, I’m referring to a specific kind of shipper, not someone who just doesn’t like a ship, but who is so aggressive about it for absolutely no reason. There are plenty of very lovely people in this fandom, who mind their own business, multipship, or just don’t care.

Calling shippers dumb or braindead or toxic (to clarify, this isn’t targeting any one person I’ve seen, but a collective) based on projections and generalizations that come entirely from your own impression of the ship rather than observation is...really biased to me, and comes across as uneducated and trigger happy, rather than constructive or helpful in any way.

I’m not saying someone has to ship anything, or like it, in order to be a ‘good’ participant. But inserting derogatory material into a main tag, and dropping buzzwords with the same tired backing behind it without seeming to understand the implications of those words or acknowledging the development, pacing, and intentional change to the characters within the plot is just...I don’t know, it comes across as redundant, to me at least, and very childish. Aggressive. Toxic. Problematic. Maybe the real toxic shippers were the ones who bitched and moaned along the way. They’re like little kids, stuck in the past, unable to visualize or recognize change, and I think that’s a real shame because it’s preventing them from appreciating the story or its characters as it is, in canon.

But that’s okay, really. To each their own. Interpretations will vary, preferences differ, perspectives are not uniform. There is no one truth. There are five seasons of the show, a feature film, and like, thirty volumes as of this year.

All I’m saying is that if you want to stay stuck in the first season of each character, then that’s what you’re going to get. That’s up to you.

This may be edited or revised.

[alwaysmychoices]

Retirement Talks

Synopsis: Charlie decides to return to Edenbrook to meet Kyra for lunch, but little did she know that a scandal has rocked the hospital. During lunch, secrets on all sides are revealed - some of which make Charlie question if she should leave medicine altogether. 

Chapter 25 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: Teen 

Also available on AO3 & Wattpad (link in Masterlist)

Charlie was back in Edenbrook.

Not by her own desire, of course.

It was her therapist’s idea. She thought visiting Edenbrook would help Charlie so she could see it without the looming threat of a bioterrorist attack or meeting Ethan’s estranged mother. Her therapist hoped that it would ease Charlie’s anxiety and show her that Edenbrook really was just a building at the end of the day.

Not some evil place full of death and destruction. Even if it housed her most painful memories, those were just memories. She couldn’t fault the building itself.

She needed to stop fearing Edenbrook. If she didn’t, she could never return to Edenbrook.

Those were easy things to say – very appealing in its rationality.

But if it was just a building, it was a building haunted. The halls were lined with ghosts of memories long gone, seemingly forgotten by all but Charlie. All the hope and innocence she saw on her first day was replaced with stinging bitterness. She was afraid of what Edenbrook would take from her next.

She didn’t want to be here.

She probably would have left if she hadn’t made lunch plans with Kyra – who, of course, was late.

It had already been fifteen minutes since they’d initially planned to meet, and Charlie saw no sign of Kyra showing up any time soon. Charlie initially waited in the lobby, but after a text from Kyra that said she was stuck in an emergency staff meeting, Charlie moved to Kyra’s office to wait in privacy.

It was easier to wait there. Charlie had very few memories in the administrative wing of the hospital – even fewer negative ones. There were also fewer onlookers in Kyra’s office, and Charlie didn’t want to be stared at. Besides, Kyra kept snacks in her desk, and Charlie was starving.

This wasn’t the first time Charlie had stolen from Kyra’s snack drawer, so when she walked in, she knew exactly where it was.  A few months ago, lunches like these were regular occurrences. Then secrets – primarily Charlie’s relationship with Ethan – started to separate her from her friends, little by little. Most of her spare time was taken from her friends and immediately dedicated to the intoxicating and less than honorable pursuit of falling in love with Ethan Ramsey.

Charlie had been lying for a very long time.

Two months of her relationship – almost three. Even longer if she counted the build-up.

Her friends allowed it. She wasn’t sure why, but as she stole a Twizzler from Kyra’s desk, she had the distinct feeling that she didn’t deserve it.

Just before Charlie could lose herself in the depths of guilt and a dizzying inner monologue, her companion finally appeared.

20 minutes late, not that Charlie or her grumbling stomach were counting.

“Twizzlers, thank God,” Kyra skipped the pleasantries, instead making a beeline for her friend and the snacks in her hands. Kyra took a handful from the snack drawer and waited until she’d chewed through at least one before turning to Charlie.

Kyra looked amazing.

Particularly for being on death’s door only a month earlier.

Charlie wished she had been there for more of the recovery. After finding out Kyra survived the surgery, they had an emotional moment, and they frequented each other’s room in the hospital. But after the memorial service, Charlie and Ethan left town, and Charlie struggled once she returned to Boston.

During that time, Charlie visited Raf and Kyra. Sometimes, seeing them was the only time she left her apartment. But Kyra was the strongest of all of them – to no one’s particular surprise. Kyra returned to work within only a few weeks, and with Raf and Kyra still on leave, they primarily heard from her via text or rambling phone calls where Kyra shared hospital gossip they didn’t understand.

Looking at Kyra and Charlie, you could tell that one of them almost died, but you’d think it was Charlie, not Kyra. Kyra was stylish and trendy with high heels, a freshly shaved head, and a new series of gold ear piercings to celebrate her successful surgery. She oozed effortless coolness and accentuated it with a devilish smile everyone adored.

Charlie, on the other hand, hadn’t bounced back so smoothly. She’d dressed for the snow by picking up a pair of jeans she hadn’t washed in over a week, and coupled with her anxious expression, her style that usually read as classic and laidback seemed boring and stiff.

Or at least that was what Charlie felt like in comparison.

“Everything okay?” Charlie asked, claiming another Twizzler for herself as she settled comfortably on the edge of Kyra’s desk.

“Just the hospital freaking out,” Kyra grumbled, digging through her snack drawer for something else. She didn’t seem satisfied with any of her options, so she settled on a pack of fruit gummies from the bottom of the drawer.

“About what?” Charlie’s interest was piqued, though she tried to keep her tone casual. After staying home for so long, she couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“Another crisis,” Kyra evaded her, “Which isn’t helping the dire financial straits the hospital was already in.”

“Oh… Are you sure you can still get lunch today?”

“Are you kidding!” Kyra’s eyes widened as if horrified by the idea of a cancellation, “After all that, I need lunch. Let’s get out of the hospital and actually go somewhere good.”

Kyra wanted to get Charlie out of the hospital. Something about her eagerness to do made Charlie suspicious but not enough so that she would push it further. She was so eager to leave – despite her therapist’s suggestions – that she quickly accepted the proposal.

“Sounds perfect,” Charlie agreed.

After only a few moments of discussion, they decided to go to a restaurant within walking distance. Despite its close proximity, it was unpopular with Edenbrook workers because it was notorious for slow service, a recipe for disaster for short lunch breaks. Charlie, who had nowhere else to be for the rest of the day, didn’t mind. Kyra, who regularly extended her break beyond its limit, suggested it on purpose so she could avoid their coworkers.

As they walked to the restaurant, Kyra silently lamented she’d brought Charlie to Edenbrook on the worst day possible.

But she smiled and kept it to herself.

When they took their seats, Kyra started her usual game of looking for the craziest thing on the menu and deciding she should get it just so she could live a little. She inspired Charlie to order something a little more adventurous than the basic chicken sandwich she’d been eyeing when they first walked in.

After they ordered, Kyra was smiling.

“What?” Charlie asked, “The chicken won’t be that spicy,” she felt the need to defend her order, assuming her friend was judging her hot chicken and waffles – an impulsive choice on Charlie’s part but familiar enough that she was comfortable with it.

“Not that,” Kyra rolled her eyes dramatically, still grinning though, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Charlie smiled back – genuinely.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Kyra shook her head as if shocked by their recent time apart.

“I know… I haven’t been around much,” Charlie admitted sheepishly, reaching for her water as if she could hide behind the glass.

She didn’t need to feel embarrassed about needing time after the attack to heal. But that wasn’t really what she was embarrassed about. It was the weeks of lying and hiding that preceded it.

“I’ve heard,” Kyra smirked softly into her drink.

“You’ve heard?” Charlie repeated, her heart rate spiking just a bit.

“I mean, even before everything happened, you were getting hard to find. And then, after the attack, you’re entitled to space, but…” Kyra smirked like she knew some grand secret, and Charlie’s stomach flipped. “Honestly, all of your roommates wonder where you are but are too polite to ask because of all you’ve been through.”

Charlie’s face fell.

Shit.

She should’ve known. Of course, they’d eventually put it together that she was often gone and frequently spent nights away, but she didn’t realize they were talking about it.

Charlie swallowed hard, and Kyra took that as her sign to continue.

“At first, they thought you were seeing someone casually and didn’t want to tell anyone after what happened with Raf, but then they thought they would have come around after the attack. For a little while, they thought you were with Raf and had secretly united after he broke up with his girlfriend because you guys were suddenly getting along again,” Kyra explained, watching as Charlie’s blanched with shock, “And he explained your absences a lot of the time, but he denied being your boyfriend, by the way. So, if you are having a secret love affair, you should know that your boyfriend denies it.”

“And do you guys still think I’m with Raf?” Charlie couldn’t believe there had been this much discourse about her absence. How many theories had they gone through?

“No,” Kyra shook her head, “You guys don’t act like a couple when you’re together. Plus, there’s no real reason to keep it a secret.”

Right…

Charlie was amazed Rafael hadn’t told her about all the gossip, but he was probably just trying to protect her from it.

“You guys aren’t, are you?” Kyra asked, just to be sure.

“No, definitely not,” Charlie insisted forcefully enough that Kyra was satisfied she was telling the truth.

“Good,” Kyra grinned in relief, “I already made a bet with Elijah that you two weren’t together, so he owes he me $20 now.”

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh.

Still, her curiosity burned.

“So, what are the other theories?”

Kyra raised an eyebrow, surprised Charlie was digging into it more. Clearly, something was there if she was this curious.

“Some are better than others. Aurora thought you might have a secret apartment to be by yourself. Sienna thinks you’re just going around to different supporters like Dr. Banerji when you need them. She usually thinks you’re at his cabin when you’re away. Bryce likes to joke that you’re out at bars on the prowl for a new boy toy,” Kyra winked with a laugh, “And then there’s this really funny one we came up with at Donahue’s, but it’s probably not true.”

“What is it?” Charlie pushed.

Kyra blushed. She was embarrassed to tell her how crazy their conspiracies had become.

“Well… it’s just that Dr. Ramsey’s been really supportive and protective since the attack. And we all saw how devastated he was right after. Plus, he’s the one who took you to Dr. Banerji’s cabin,” Kyra began, but the way she spoke made it clear she thought it was unlikely.

But she was right.

“After everything that happened with you last year, I know that you probably wouldn’t even give him the time of day, especially since you’d started dating other people right before you got sick. But… we thought you and Dr. Ramsey were, you know, together.”

Kyra expected an emphatic rebuttal or an amused laugh. Instead, Charlie stared.

“You weren’t, right?” Kyra laughed, waiting for her expected response.

“Um…” Charlie hesitated.

She wondered if she should keep lying.

But she couldn’t fathom it, not anymore.

“I was, actually,” Charlie said it casually, like it wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation that she had reunited with the man who broke her heart last spring.

Kyra was stunned to silence.

So stunned that she hardly noticed the waitress deliver their meals. Charlie thanked her on behalf of both of them.

Charlie waited for Kyra to do something.

Literally anything.

But she was just staring.

“We were actually together before the attack, though,” Charlie spoke up, trying to fill the silence. She kept her tone nonchalant in hopes it would keep the conversation that way, reducing the impact of her truth, “About a month. Not including the back and forth preceding it, where we slept together a few times.”

Kyra’s eyes widened more and more until they couldn’t possibly get wider.

“I thought you liked David! Didn’t you go out with him to get over Ethan?” Kyra asked, having set up them up just so Charlie could stop crushing on her boss.

“I did like him! But… I only saw him once. And I actually cut that date short because Ethan called me drunk, and I wanted to check on him,” Charlie admitted sheepishly.

“And that’s when you decided to be with Ethan?”

“No,” Charlie averted her eyes, “It was about a week later, I think. We, um… we had sex in Ethan’s office. We didn’t mean to do that, but as you already know, it wasn’t the first time. So, Ethan suggested that we start an actual relationship. I said no initially, but the next day, I said yes.”

“You’re in a relationship?”

“Oh… yeah,” Charlie winced, realizing her friend thought they were just sleeping together.

“How serious?”

“Like we’ve met each other’s parents, and we regularly say, ‘I love you’ serious,” Charlie’s voice got higher as she spoke until she was almost squeaking.

This was crazy. She’d been having a secret relationship – and not the kind where you text someone and show up at their door. She’d been building something meaningful with Ethan. She loved Ethan. She truly wanted to spend the rest of her life with Ethan, and along the way, she’d forgotten that her friends had no idea.

“Holy. Shit,” Kyra’s jaw dropped, and she leaned in close, “Tell me everything.”

She was smiling, and Charlie let out a deep sigh of relief.

So, Charlie told her.

Their promise to have a one-night stand. The way they pulled away and always came back. Her first date with David and the night she spent with Ethan. The morning where they shared breakfast and became friends again. The night in Ethan’s office where he offered a relationship and her teary acceptance the next night. The first time they said I love you. The way he helped put her back together after the attack. Their fight about her returning to Edenbrook. Everything.

Kyra was enthralled.

She asked more questions.

Most of which involved how Ethan was in bed. The others questioned how such an asshole could be a good boyfriend. And most importantly, why they’d kept it a secret.

On that front, Charlie didn’t have a great answer.

It was obvious why they kept it a secret from most of the hospital. The hospital didn’t approve of interdepartmental relationships, particularly if one party was a superior. It could jeopardize her place on the Diagnostics Unit, and rumors of sleeping to the top could damage her career permanently.

But why she didn’t tell her friends?

At first, just to keep the secret from spreading and maybe because she thought they’d think it was a terrible decision. Then… as time went on, it was just harder to share.

Though disappointed with Charlie’s lack of an answer, Kyra loved the conversation.

A few months ago, she’d strongly urged Charlie to stay away from Ethan, convinced he could only hurt her if they got any closer. But now that Ethan had seemingly proved himself, Kyra was eager to hear everything.

The rest of lunch was spent dishing on Charlie’s secret relationship and gossiping about the fabulous men – and the gorgeous woman – Kyra had been casually seeing in the last few weeks. Out of all of them, the only one who came close to acting like a partner was ironically Bryce – the only one she wasn’t sleeping with. Charlie, as always, encouraged Kyra to ask Bryce out and act on their perpetual flirting. Kyra just waved off the suggestion.

It wasn’t until the end of the meal that the conversation naturally drifted back to the financial state of Edenbrook and the resulting long hours Kyra had been working.

Kyra forgot why she didn’t bring it up earlier. She forgot that, as much as she loved Charlie, certain topics were still of limits. Something about the conversation made Kyra feel safe and comfortable – like she was catching up with an old friend, not protecting her from a hospital tragedy.

“I didn’t realize things were that bad,” Charlie confessed, signing her name on the check as they collected their things to leave.

“The whole thing’s on the verge of collapse,” Kyra sighed, “We’re trying everything –even begging our donor list to the point where they hate us. And things are going to get so much worse after today…”

“Today? What happened today?” Charlie asked curiously. Kyra, who had just looped her arm through Charlie’s, stilled as she realized her mistake.

“Just a little crisis. Nothing we can’t handle,” Kyra murmured casually.

“Is that why you had the emergency meeting?” Charlie prodded innocently, unaware of the change in her friend.

“Mmmhmm,” Kyra hummed avoidantly.

“Well… What was it?” Charlie asked again, growing more intrigued by the minute, “There hasn’t been an emergency admin meeting since someone tried to kill me. And before that, the last one was when Mrs. Martinez’s family threatened to sue. It’s got to be something big.”

And it was.

Something monumental and horrible.

“It’s not great,” Kyra warned, “You probably don’t want to hear about it…”

Well, now Charlie had to know.

“Kyra,” she said softly, pausing on the sidewalk once they exited the restaurant, “what is it?”

Kyra chewed on her lower lip, mulling over the decision on whether or not to tell her.

If Kyra was the one to tell her, at least she could control the way the information was spread. Charlie wouldn’t first be exposed to the news through sensationalized gossip or accusatory questions.

Maybe it was better this way.

“An intern made a mistake, or we think it was a mistake,” Kyra began, her hand resting on Charlie’s arms as they moved through the bitterly cold city. Even with their heavy jackets, they huddled together for warmth, and Kyra was comforted by Charlie’s closeness.

“A mistake,” Charlie repeated, the cogs in her brain already churning.

The last time the administrative wing panicked because of an intern mistake, it had been her own.

“What unit?” Charlie asked, hoping it would be something completely unrelated to her line of work. Maybe surgery made the wrong cut or psych misdiagnosed. Even dermatology was capable of mistakes if they tried hard enough.

“Diagnostics,” Kyra’s soft voice was almost lost to the roar of the Boston streets.

Charlie knew.

Without being told, she knew exactly what happened.

And the fact it came so easily to her meant that she had known the risk before now.

She let it happen.

“Esme,” Charlie blurted out her assumption. She prayed that Kyra would correct her.

“How did you know?” Kyra asked, bewildered.

Charlie winced.

“And the patient was Levi Coates.”

“Did someone already tell you?” Kyra’s eyes were so wide they took up most of her face. She was astonished – maybe even a little relieved she wouldn’t have to share the gory details if Charlie already knew.

Charlie couldn’t speak.

Without either noticing, the crosswalk turned green.

Most of the lunch rush had already left the city streets and returned to their office building, so the sidewalks weren’t crowded. Only a few people stood next to Charlie and Kyra, and once the light changed, they left the pair on the sidewalk by themselves.

“No…” Charlie murmured finally, only becoming aware of the crosswalk once it turned red again and stranded them in their original location.

No one needed to tell Charlie.

It all came back to her in horrific detail.

The day she came back to work – her last day before she abandoned Edenbrook and the care of her intern.

Esme acted strangely. She said things she shouldn’t have said to Charlie. She asked dangerous questions. She was too close to Levi – and too willing to take on the risks involved with helping him. And the party…. The party should have been a sign. No one survived a party at Edenbrook, it seemed.

But back then, Charlie couldn’t take it on. She was too fragile and overwhelmed to assume the responsibilities, stress, and mistakes of another. She couldn’t care for herself enough to teach someone else.

She’d left Esme.

She assumed someone would take over, spot it, and do something.

Or her little warning speech would be enough to warn Esme off from career-ruining misery.

But now, Charlie saw it wasn’t enough.

She failed Esme. She failed Edenbrook, and now she failed Levi.

Charlie didn’t want to ask what Esme had done, but she hoped it was benign – something like threatening a parent and having a lawsuit thrown in her face. She couldn’t watch another bright young intern lose a patient and devastate a family.

“What happened?” Charlie asked, not to sate curiosity but to be prepared. She knew that everyone would stare and whisper once she walked into Edenbrook again.

She didn’t look at Kyra as the light finally turned green again. While Kyra collected her thoughts, Charlie tugged her friend across the crosswalk.

Kyra sighed. There was no right way to say it, but even still, it felt wrong to say, “Levi died.”

Charlie’s world felt like it ended again.

“What?”

Charlie stopped in the middle of the street. Locked into her arms, Kyra was stuck there with her.

“She overdosed him. After everything his body went through, he couldn’t take it,” Kyra explained, looking at the crosswalk sign as she was eager to get out of the road.

“So, it was an accident?” Charlie meant to clarify, but it sounded more like a demand.

“Well…” Kyra swallowed, “We’re not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“She was close to the patient, and judging by the interviews we’ve conducted thus far… it’s possible that she did this to spare him, most likely with his permission. And that’s the result the admin office wants.”

“Why would they want that? That’s illegal in Massachusetts,” Charlie demanded, seemingly oblivious to the countdown on how much longer they had in this street.

“Charlie, let’s get out of the road,” Kyra implored.

“Just tell me.”

Kyra huffed, eyes scanning the cars waiting for the green light to run them over. Backed into a corner, she confessed, “Because, if she did, the hospital isn’t liable, and we can’t afford the lawsuit right now.”

Oh my God.

Finally, Charlie took a step, and Kyra immediately ushered them to the other side of the street. Only moments later, cars roared through the intersection, much to Kyra’s relief.

But Charlie was disgusted.

She was horrified. She hated that a death had turned into money so quickly. She hated that she hadn’t saved Esme and Levi. She hated that her experience with Mrs. Martinez had been repeated in another generation.

For the next block or so, Kyra and Charlie walked in silence.

Then Edenbrook came into view.

That place.

Full of death and destruction. Pain and misery. Mistakes and heartache.

An anxious building was suddenly clothed in danger.

She hated it. She hated the whole place and all it had done to those she cared about.

Kyra watched her carefully, hoping that she wouldn’t have to leave her friend in a bad state. Finally, she asked, “Should I not have told you?”

“No, you should have,” Charlie murmured, “Better you than someone like Declan Nash telling me it’s a tradition.”

Kyra squeezed Charlie’s arm, wishing she could absorb whatever terrible emotions she felt. She’d been through enough already.

“Do you think it was an accident?” Charlie bit her lip, unsure if she wanted the answer, “If only you got to decide, what would you do?”

“Me?” Kyra considered it, “I don’t know. I’ve only read a few interviews, and I hardly know her. But… looking at his file, I wouldn’t blame Esme if she did. With parents who wouldn’t allow him to give up, he didn’t have many other options, but… I don’t want her to get blamed for this for the sake of a hospital budget.”

Charlie appreciated Kyra’s fair consideration, but personally… Charlie felt sure of what Esme had done. And she couldn’t blame her, not when she saw Levi’s suffering. But it felt like a failure on Charlie’s part nonetheless. She should have been there to find other alternatives before it came to this.

They were close to Edenbrook now.

Soon, they’d say goodbye.

“Are you going to be okay?” Kyra inquired. She wouldn’t leave her friend like this, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t bring her back to the chaos in the administrative wing, and aside from Rafael, all of their other friends were currently working in Edenbrook, the source of the tragedy.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie affirmed half-heartedly.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” Kyra asked casually. Or it was supposed to sound casual – because, in actuality, it definitely wasn’t. Kyra wanted to know that Charlie wasn’t going to mope about all day or go on a downward spiral after the news.

“Not particularly,” Charlie shrugged, “While I’m here, I think I’ll run up and see Ethan.”

“Your boyfriend?” Kyra teased, and Charlie shot her a glare. Kyra nudged her playfully, “You should tell everyone, you know.”

“I will… eventually.”

“Eventually? So, they’ll find out by getting a wedding invite?”

“I’ll tell them when it’s time,” Charlie insisted, a ghost of a smile creeping across her lips at the joke.

“Just make sure I’m there when you tell Bryce. I want to see his reaction. Promise me, okay?” Kyra demanded once they got to the front door.

“Okay,” Charlie agreed weakly, feeling the color drain from her face as she stepped inside.

“Alright…” Kyra sighed, hesitating to leave. She balanced on either foot as she tried to think of a reason to stay, but ultimately, she just gave Charlie a hug, “Call me later, okay?”

Charlie nodded her agreement.

Kyra wasn’t totally satisfied, but she walked back to the admin office anyway.

Leaving Charlie in Edenbrook.

This building. This horrible building.

Charlie started walking to Ethan’s office on autopilot, but the halls plagued her. Ghosts of patients lost, mistakes made, and heartaches received whispered to her. And then they screamed.

The panic built in her chest – mixing with her sense of regret and responsibility.

Everything here had been a devastating failure.

In her blind rage, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Ethan felt something similar as he walked to his office.

He’d spent his lunch break with Naveen. Their scheduled lunch had been disrupted by a crisis with Dr. Ortega, and their resulting time together amounted to picking up food from the cafeteria and eating it in Naveen’s office between emergency meetings.

This lunch turned into what Ethan usually called Naveen’s “retirement talks.” Every year or so, Naveen would tire of the politics and stress associated with their profession. He would meet Ethan for drinks or dinner, and he would propose a retirement. Throughout the meal, Naveen would build a fantasy of retirement – one where he read, fished, and hosted dinner parties with frequency. Ethan played the role of reminding Naveen why he loved his job. At the end of all of these talks, Ethan’s side always won because, truthfully, Naveen was never looking to retire. After all, even when Naveen almost died, he couldn’t stay retired for even a week after his recovery.

But today was different.

Today, during the hurried meal, Naveen hadn’t built a fantasy. He reflected on the reality of their job and the pain it can produce. The death of Levi Coates and the accusations against Dr. Esme Ortega were proof enough that this was a difficult burden to bear. Naveen felt responsible. So did Ethan.

It was Ethan’s department, and she worked under Ethan – not that Ethan could say he’d given much effort to her education recently. He’d been so entangled in his own life that he hadn’t been much of an attending. Perhaps he could have taught her something to prevent this.

Then there was the day Charlie came back to work… He’d seen Ortega. She’d been up to something. If Ethan hadn’t been so focused on Charlie, he would have seen it. He could have done something.

Though he felt similarly, he lacked Charlie’s rage and depth of pain.

So, when he opened his office door and saw his beloved girlfriend standing there, he smiled. Because it felt like old times, if just for a minute. When they were so eager for time together that they’d meet here in secret…. His heart ached for the innocence of that time.

Then, he remembered she was still nervous in Edenbrook, and she was pacing the room anxiously. This couldn’t be a romantic visit.

Ethan closed the door behind him quickly and greeted her with confusion, “Charlotte?”

“You know about Esme,” Charlie skipped pleasantries.

In the comfort and safety of this office, the apprehension poured out of her. In front of him, she was going to lose it.

Ethan frowned.

He wished she hadn’t found out yet. It was the last thing she needed.

“So, you know too then?” Ethan clarified, turning the lock on his office door out of precaution.  

Charlie didn’t answer. She just held her breath, sucking in air through her nose and holding it in her chest. She thought it would calm her. It didn’t.

“This is my fault,” she decided.

“You weren’t even here!” Ethan objected.

“But she’s my intern.”

“You were mine,” Ethan stepped towards Charlie, “And I never took responsibility for Mrs. Martinez’s treatment.”

“But you were there to teach me. You did what you could. I wasn’t there for Esme. I wasn’t even here at all!” Charlie retorted.

“What do you think you could have done?” Ethan asked, knowing she was expecting too much of herself.

“I knew something was wrong, Ethan. Esme was acting inappropriately. She asked me questions about ‘doing the right thing’ even when it’s not allowed. I should have told someone or at least told her more about what happened to me. All I did was give her a short speech and then leave,” Charlie huffed, “I failed her.”

Ethan felt strongly that she hadn’t. Or even if she had, she was justified given her traumatic near-death experience only a few weeks ago.

“You didn’t administer the dose. You’re not responsible.”

Charlie paused, her green eyes boring into his. He felt exposed as she seemed to read his rawest emotions with ease. And to prove it, she inquired, “You feel no responsibility then?”

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t want to lie.

Charlie shook her head as if unsurprised, and she began to pace again.

The panic was rising, and tears prickled at her eyes.

“This fucking place,” Charlie scorned, “All I wanted to be was a doctor. I thought I would come here and learn from the best. I thought I’d leave tired and deeply in debt but satisfied with my decision. And at every turn, something horrible happens. Why am I even here? I came here to help people, but who has been helped? Levi? Mrs. Martinez? Bobby?”

“Charlie…” Ethan eyes softened, “You’ve helped a lot of people.”

“Not enough. Not enough for this…” Charlie felt like she was breaking.

She was cracking and splintering. She was giving up.

“Why am I even trying to be a doctor if I’m just getting people killed?”

“Charlotte,” Ethan didn’t expect to react so viscerally, but something about her accusation stung him deeply. He placed either hand on her shoulder and insisted, “You haven’t killed anyone.”

“I can’t do this,” she shook her head so quickly, so fervently that her snow-dampened curls flew, “I can’t come back here. I can’t come back to Edenbrook, where nothing goes right and everyone gets hurt. Ethan… I’m leaving medicine.”

He could have sworn the earth stopped turning.

“Charlotte,” Ethan began, prepared to give a speech on why she was wrong, but she cut him off.

“I’ve already made up my mind. I made it up before I even got here. I can’t take another tragedy in this hospital. I can’t keep going, Ethan. I’m literally building up my tolerance just to stand in this office! How am I supposed to practice again?”

“You haven’t given yourself enough time!” Ethan asserted.

“It’s been over a month. How much more time will it take, Ethan?”

“Naveen is willing to give you as much time as you need.”

“But when is enough time? Ethan, there isn’t enough time! I am broken. I lost the instinct. I can’t do it anymore,” she felt like she was begging him to understand, just as he was begging her to change her mind.

“You are not broken, no matter what. You haven’t even tested the instinct to know if it’s lost,” Ethan knew that pinpointing the holes in her argument would do little to sway her, but it felt like all he had.

“I can’t keep going like this, Ethan,” Charlie said so passionately that Ethan instantly knew she was right. His hand went to hers, and he squeezed it.

“I know…” he murmured.

For a second, she thought she’d won. But the racing panic and horror didn’t leave her mind…

“But you don’t have to quit to change this,” Ethan decided.

Charlie frowned, but having decided on his mission, Ethan ignored her. He went to his desk and collected the chart for the newest patient of the Diagnostics Team – a patient they hadn’t even seen yet.

He handed the file to her and told her, “Read it.”

“I’m not even on duty. I can’t read this,” Charlie dropped the chart back to his desk.

“You can, and you are. And read it quickly because you’re going with us to meet the patient.”

“I’m on leave.”

“I’m your supervisor, and if you’re going to quit, I’m taking you off leave first,” Ethan determined.

It was a risk.

He could either change her mind or make it much, much worse.

“You should grab your jacket. The patient is at a ski resort, and we’re leaving in half an hour,” Ethan announced authoritatively.

She could say no, of course. She was very good at calling him out on his bullshit, particularly when he claimed authority he didn’t have. But he didn’t think she would because she wanted to know just as much as he did.

“So, what? You don’t want to leave me alone when I’m upset, and you think you can entice me back into work with a mystery? Is that what you have planned?” Charlie accused Ethan.

“No,” Ethan stood firmly, “I’m bringing you because I know you’ll solve it, and you need a reminder of all the good you’ve done here.”

Charlie made a show of rolling her eyes. She hated that he dared to fight her on her own career decisions, particularly after everything she’d been through. But she still reached for the chart. Just as he suspected, she didn’t continue the fight. Instead, she gathered her coat and started reading about the patient.

She wanted to know if Ethan was right.

And honestly… part of her hoped he was.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for continuing to support this series! I didn’t mean to take this last hiatus, but with finishing up my semester, graduating, saying goodbye to friends, and moving, I ended up needing more time than I originally imagined.

Please share your thoughts on this chapter - and Kyra finding out!

[bookwyrminspiration]

Do you think that anyone is going to die in Book 9? We haven't had a death in a while from the "good guys." (I believe the last one was Forkle 1) The only people I can think of could die would be Dex, Linh, (Maybe that explains the short POV), or maybe Amy. idk, I feel like Sophie is gonna have a hard time in the next book, with the way that the last book left off. But, Shannon might not have time, so I have no idea.

[Image: Screenshot of an anonymous ask. In all caps, it reads: "Sandor will most definitely die at the end of the series I don't want him too but ive been going thru the books and there is so much evidence it will happen." End description.]

I hope you two don't mind me combining these asks, they're just so similar and my thoughts cover both of them!! Because Sandor dying is one of the one's I feel is most plausible in the coming books, rather than talking about it in two different places it's easier to mesh both your asks!

The last death we had was, you're right, Mr. Forkle in Lodestar, but that was in book five and we're coming up on nine, so it's been a considerable length of time. It doesn't feel like we can keep going at this rate and have everyone consistently come out alive at the end of the day. You know all those kids games like Pie Face and Don't Break the Ice? it's like that. the longer things go on, the more the anxiety build because with each passing turn, the game gets more risky and you have a lower chance of escaping unharmed. In the same way, we've been moving along without incident through the series and we're just waiting for everything to blow up in our faces.

First, I'll discuss a few of the characters the first ask brought up! Dex is an interesting one; I could see there being an aspect of "he could only cheat death once" in reference to the time he was presumed dead. I think his death, based on how he's incorporated into the story right now, would serve as a way to make Sophie feel guilty and responsible because she wasn't paying enough attention to him. I don't think it would be a satisfying conclusion to his story, though. There's an element in writing when a character dies, generally you want it to be because it's an appropriate ending to that characters journey and story, a culmination of their triumphs and losses and their past. We had this in a sense with the first Forkle because all his accomplishments had led to a meeting with the leaders of the world alongside Sophie, and he had gone down protecting someone else and the future, and while part of that was for its impact on Sophie is does make enough sense with his character to be satisfying. I don't think we're quite there with Dex yet, so maybe it would take more of an approach of those sudden deaths that are meant to show that life isn't a story, that sometimes people die for no reason and you can't do anything about it. But enough about Dex, onto Linh!

Same as Sandor, who I'll talk about later, I think Linh might be more plausible as far as going down protecting her friends. We've seen in Neverseen and Nightfall that she has no problem going past some of her physical limits to ensure the safety of others, so I could see a scene where things are getting intense but she just keeps pushing herself further and further past the edge, just promising herself she'll hold on a little longer, just a little longer for her friends because they're counting on her. I think it'd be the kind of death where no one realizes what's happening to her until it's too late and she's given all she can give. Everyone would be so caught up in the fighting and just trying to survive that they wouldn't realize until a few moments later that no one can find Linh, that she hasn't said a word. I don't think she'd give any sort of final words goodbye, she'd just show her love for the people she surrounded herself with through her actions.

Amy I'm personally a little iffy on, just because we've already had so much drama with Sophie's human family that it might feel like "seriously?? you can't give them a break?" Sophie had to loose her human family, endure them being taken and tortured, then loose them again. Adding Amy's death on top of all that seems a little too close to older events to have the dramatic effect Shannon would want. There's also the matter of her being very disconnected from the elven world and all the drama, so there'd need to be a lot more connection back to her in the next book for this to be something more plausible. But! not completely off the table!

that's not to say all of these are completely improbably and can't happen at all, just that I think there might be some better options for deaths that would have a better effect on the story! But I do like all your suggestions and there's a lot I could talk about for each of them individually!!

So now, onto Sandor. Personally, he's one of the characters I can see dying the most believably. and the reason the second ask found "so much evidence it will happen" is likely because Shannon has literally admitted to planning to kill him off in every book since he's been introduced! I don't remember where exactly she said this, but I do know she shared this lovely bit of information a year or two ago. So not only have there been plans to kill him, there have been hints of those plans throughout the series.

some of my reasoning: he's a bodyguard; his line of work is literally in physical combat and protection, opening him up to a lot more opportunity for injury and disaster. I mean, he's already fallen off a cliff, and that was when he wasn't as emotionally invested in Sophie as he is now. On top of that, both Sophie and the fandom have gotten attached to him--he's been here even longer than Tam and Linh. So it would have that emotional impact and guilt from Sophie that Shannon would want to show us, same as it would have with Dex. The difference here for me, though, is that Sandor's death would be a better ending to his story than Dex's would (not that it was a bad suggestion! there's just a lot to it). In the same way I suggest Linh die protecting her friends, I think Sandor would die protecting Sophie. I simply have trouble imagining there's a more believable way for him to die.

He's been protecting her and getting hurt in her place for so long, I think it would be fitting for him to be doing the same thing he always does, but this time it's just...a little too much. A little too late. A little too bad. I think he'd be the kind to have a few final words instead of Linh, to thank Sophie for his time with her and to remind her that it isn't her fault. The little things like that.

and then jumping back to the first ask to round this out: I think we've had enough time and build up throughout the past eight and a half books that even if number nine is the last one in the series, Sandor could be killed and there would be enough time to figure all that out. he doesn't have a bunch of weird background stuff going on like Kenric or Forkle did that would draw out his death over several books, so I personally think Sandor specifically could be killed in the next book and it would make sense timing wise. All the others feel a little different though, so depending on who Shannon wants to kill, whether or not it would work out would change.

Those are just a few of my thoughts on death in the keeper universe! I don't know if it's possible to keep going and have everyone survive, but the tension has been mounting and we know Shannon is okay killing characters so there's a lot to take into consideration!

[ddarker-dreams]

Fallen From Grace. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

Giorno has given you too many gifts to count.

This benevolent act serves multiple purposes, culminating towards the goal of making your time here better. He doesn’t shy away from the reality of what he’s doing to you, the extent of your loneliness after being displaced. Forcing himself to remember this bitter truth keeps him from getting complacent, striving to make your experience all the better. 

No detail is to be overlooked. In what little free time Giorno has, he molds your surroundings to your liking. The meals that are planned for you consist of high nutritional value, often rotating your favorites with only the best ingredients and chefs to prepare them. Your wardrobe is full of outfits tailored to your measurements and tastes. Rare and ethereal flowers span across the master bedroom you share with Giorno, him creating them with the purpose of soothing you. 

For all this effort, Giorno never has an expectation for your gratitude. He doesn’t believe he deserves it, having stolen you from your normal life. He’s the reason for the tear soaked pillows, the restless nights and detached demeanor you’ve adopted. Whether it’s to ease the guilt that suffocates his heart, or to see your eyes light up for only a moment, Giorno tends to you. 

This custom, handmade journal is one he gave you at the start of your time here. With you receiving limited human interaction, Giorno found it important for you to have a way to express your thoughts. While you were initially antagonistic towards him about the journal, you began to use it. He lets you hide it from him, letting you believe it’s out of his reach for peace of mind. 

Ironic as it may sound, Giorno respected you by never laying a finger on it. The overwhelming temptation of learning his beloved’s most inner thoughts isn’t lost on him. He could read it and place it back to its original spot without you being none the wiser. For months, he made a point in refusing this alluring idea. 

That is, until this very second. 

Sitting on his dark mahogany desk, is the journal that contains your private thoughts and experiences. Giorno’s eyelids flutter shut, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Leaning further into his chair, he gives more thought to the situation. The forbidden fruit lays before him, ready to give knowledge he shouldn’t have. 

There’s a grander reason for this dilemma. When spending time with you, Giorno is keen to pick up every nuance of your behavior. It’s a trait of his that has followed him since childhood. Every twitch of your mouth or hesitation in your voice paints a larger picture. He’s capable of reading you, knowing your thoughts before you even know them yourself. This often works out in his favor. 

But lately, when he speaks to you, something feels different. In a way that doesn’t make sense. You still hold apparent dislike for him, but you avoid eye contact less. There’s a sense of underlying assurance, like you’re privy to information that he isn’t. It gets under his skin, eating him from the inside out. 

No longer do you threaten him with bitter words, detailing your resentment towards him. You seem content to sit in his presence, talking casually about what you’ve done that day and asking him the same. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like the development. But his gut tells him there’s a malicious intent laced in your new behavior. 

What are you hiding from him? 

The realm of possibilities is few and far between, and Giorno considers every possibility. None of his theories placate a voice in his head, a gnawing that something is very wrong. Talking to you and asking questions laced with hidden agendas has led to no discoveries, options growing limited to discover the truth.

Running his fingertips over the spine of your journal, he gingerly opens to the first page. It’s a dirty feeling to be doing this, invading your privacy behind your back. He’s done worse for the sake of your well being, the justification spurring him to continue on to the next page. It contains your first entry. 

“I didn’t want to write this. Putting the words into paper almost feels like I’m accepting the reality of what’s happening to me, this parody of a life. I don’t have much else to do to pass the time. 

Even my hobbies bring me little joy, knowing who set them up for me like a doll in a dollhouse. Focusing is another thing entirely. How can I focus knowing I’m always being monitored to some degree? Even as I write this, I wonder who’s watching me. 

In the past, when I felt anxious, I’d write. And well… anxiety is the heartbeat of my life now. Everyday I wake up, more numb than the last. All I look forward to is when I’ll sleep next. At least then I don’t have to feel anything, I can just exist without trying. There’s nothing else for me to say.”

He knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Giorno’s lips curl down into a frown, his eyebrows furrowing and stomach dropping. Seeing the depths of your pain so tangible, in your own words, kills a piece of his soul. It’d be an insult to you to waver now, he thinks, resolve staying firm. Not wanting to invade your privacy more than necessary, he skims through more entries in hopes of finding any leads on your current behavior.

“It’s already been three months since I’ve begun living here, if you can even call it that. I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards. I like to think of it as a little game. They’re good, I give them that. But when you have nothing to do, living in a house with no noise, it grows easier to listen. To notice things I wouldn’t have before. 

Maybe I’m going stir crazy. I don’t like knowing how I’m being monitored, but I’ve grown accustomed to it. I hate to admit how he was right , when he said I’d grow accommodated to this with time. I don’t want to. I don’t want to learn to live like this. But I can’t stop it. Resisting the inevitable is a pointless waste of energy, which I hardly have anymore.” 

Giorno picks up on your lack of mentioning him by name. In most of your entries, you avoid even insinuating to his existence when possible. It’s a cold sensation, knowing who he loves most omits him at every chance. He understands -- it’s what he deserves after putting you through this isolation -- yet the complex hurt remains prevalent. Every word stingers more than the last.

He soldiers on, searching through more entries. 

“I wonder if they’re allowed to talk to me. When I call out to the occasional shadow, or creak in a room beside me, there’s no response. But I know they’re here, I’ve seen him giving them orders in the past when I pretend to sleep. It’s always in hushed whispers, as if anything they say could surprise me. 

I just want to talk to someone. Someone that isn’t him. Someone that doesn’t avoid my gaze like everyone else here. It makes me feel like I’m a disgusting sight to behold, even though I know why they look away. The guilt from witnessing what they do, outweighed by their longing for money. I hate it. It makes me hate them. At least look at me, like I’m a human. 

They’re spineless cowards. All of them. Disgusting subhumans that take a paycheck over my suffering. I hate them so much, almost more than I hate him.” 

Giorno freezes, noticing small crinkles in the paper towards the end of this entry. Signs that you must’ve been crying, he deduces. God. He wants to tell himself that it’s worse than he thought, but that’d be a lie. All along he’s been aware of the great extents of your suffering, all pointing back to him. 

Running a hand through his hair, loose from its normal styling, Giorno wonders if he should stop now. Every word is like a nail in the coffin of his heart, paining him in more ways he thought possible. Making difficult decisions has come as second nature to him, so he preserves on. 

“Yesterday was my birthday. What a shitty thing to realize. I got a lot of things. More than I ever had gotten before. More offline games, clothes, perfume, shoes, jewelry, and even a painting. By the looks of it I think it’s rare, but who gives a fuck. 

An interesting development occurred. One of my guards, if that’s what you’d even call them, approached me. He had just gotten off the phone, and informed me that my plans for the day were going to be different. Apparently the big boss got held up at work, so he wouldn’t be joining me for dinner.

Am I supposed to be upset about that? Well, I certainly wasn’t. Who cares. Seeing him would just make me feel worse. I hate how out of control I feel like he’s around. I almost find myself forgetting about all he’s done, when he speaks to me so calmly. Just thinking about it makes me feel dirty, like I should shower. 

I didn’t see a point in responding at first. But eventually, I spoke up before the guard could leave. I asked him why he was okay with this, what he sees everyday. He didn’t offer a response. But I noticed something. His breath hitched, I’m sure of it. 

Maybe there is another human being in this pseudo-prison after all.” 

A painful reminder of the past. It did hurt him at the time to have to miss out on an important day with you, even though Giorno was self aware to know his presence brought you little comfort. There had been emergency phone calls over an attack from former Passione members, retaliating for losing drug related income. 

The timing of it was awful, just thinking back to it reminds Giorno of the impatience he felt then. Hours were spent personally dealing with cleaning up what had happened, meaning he wasn’t able to see you as was originally planned. Orders were given back home to inform you of this change, though it’s now evident it impacted Giorno more than you. 

The last section piques his interest. You felt you had noticed guilt in one of the guards? The pool of men that Giorno had carefully sifted through are no strangers to witnessing barbaric acts. Such is the life of a gangster. In your state of heightened emotions, there’s a possibility you could’ve imagined it. 

The journal goads him to continue, unraveling the mysteries of your heart.

“I’ve gotten better at spotting the guards.

I can’t believe something like this is exciting to me, but it is these days. It’s kinda funny in a pathetic way, watching as they shrink back when I spot them. The guard from before is the one I recognize the most. I pretended to be hurt, and he came out of the shadows to check on me. 

I guess he wasn’t expecting me to turn around looking fine after my acting, because he didn’t leave right away. Before he got the chance, I asked what his name is. He sighed, probably relieved that he wouldn’t have to report to his boss about me being harmed. He said his name is Marco. 

At that point, it was my turn to be surprised. I guess he was too, given the slip up. I must confess, it felt nice talking to someone. It’s been so long since I’ve heard another person’s voice. He went to walk away soon after, but I stopped him. It’s not like they can use force to get rid of me, so why the hell not? 

I told him I was bored and wanted someone to talk to. And, for some reason… he stayed.” 

Giorno rereads this passage multiple times, scrutinizing it. So you managed to speak to one of the guards he assigned to watch over you? When he was recruiting within Passione for the position, he made expectations explicitly clear. They were not to interact with you unless an emergency calls for it. And if they felt the situation called for it, they needed to report it back to Giorno. 

Your safety is paramount in his eyes. Regardless of this being a minor grievance, this guard will be punished accordingly for breaking the rules Giorno set. All of them were put in place knowing that if you grew connected to someone and they you, possibilities of insubordination would blossom. 

The dates on the pages are getting closer to the current day, not many more entries left. 

“Marco and I have been speaking more frequently.

He gave me a rough idea of the conditions in which we can talk, only in certain blind spots and times where other guards aren’t around as often. I wish it wasn’t so complicated. In our rushed conversations, I’ve learned more about him. I didn’t really think I would get all that invested in this person, since he’s stood by and watched my situation for a while now.

But now it makes a bit more sense. He told me that his little sister is unwell, having to practically live in a hospital room. That this dirty job is the only one that can cover the full expenses, and that without it she wouldn’t last. I can’t say that I forgive him entirely yet, but… I guess I can sympathize. I wish there was more I could do to help. 

Her name is Lucia. One of the times we talked Marco told me she’s the strongest person he knows, staying dedicated to her studies despite having waning strength. She’s a few years younger than me, but I think we’d have gotten along well. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this place, but I wish I could meet her one day. 

Having him to talk to is nice.” 

Ah... so that’s what it is then.

Unpleasant emotions rise within, feelings that Giorno long thought were gone. Times before when you were speaking freely with your friends, laughing among them and living your life to the fullest. Those times were he wanted nothing more than to join you, to have you by his side and share in the experience. His position shot down any hopes of that, the possibility of endangering you deterring him. 

It was a painful time. Knowing that what he wanted was close and yet so painfully far, just out of his reach. Giorno wanted you to look at him like that, mirth in your eyes and a smile on your lips. To enjoy outings to the movies like you did with your friends, to have inside jokes and memories to fondly look back on. 

Envy doesn’t begin to describe the hideous feeling that permeates within him. Giorno’s grasp on your journal feels weaker, fingers shaking as he flips to the next page. Predator-like intent shines on his visage, emerald eyes narrowed and grip tightening. Not typically one to dwell on what could’ve been, it’s rare Giorno would feel like this. He makes the most out of every situation, his resolve unwavering and sights set on a single goal. 

You throw all of it into a loop, his normal composure a long forgotten memory. 

“Today I played a game of checkers with Marco. 

I think he was letting me win, but it was fun nonetheless. Apparently one of the normal guards was tending to business elsewhere, so we had more time together. He’s kind, kinder than I would’ve ever expected. When we’re together I just forget about everything other than the present moment. 

For once, I don’t feel like a prisoner all on my lonesome. I don’t notice the heavy ring on my finger, the suffocating air of this villa that I despise. It’s just us, cracking jokes and learning about one another. It’s what I look forward to the most, what I hold onto even when Marco isn’t around. It makes me feel human again. Like I’m not [First] Giovanna, but entirely myself.

Smiling comes a lot more naturally these days. I can even find myself stomaching his presence easier, though I still don’t like when he’s around. As long as he doesn’t find out about Marco and I, I feel like I can get through this. Everyday I change the location of this journal, within the expanses of this mansion. 

I still wish there was more I could do to help Lucia. I suggested giving Marco some of this stupid jewelry to pawn off, but he said it’s too risky. It’s surreal to know even pawnshops in Italy are fiercely loyal to Passione’s Don, and would be too hesitant to purchase his wife’s jewelry in fear of retaliation. 

Having all this wealth surround me feels like a waste when I know there’s someone who could actually use it. As much as I don’t like the thought, maybe I could convince Giorno to help Marco somehow. I have a few ideas but they’re probably all too risky. He does always tell me, ‘If you ever want anything in this world, tell me.’ 

I want to help Lucia. I want to help Marco, who I’ve found myself caring for. 

I’ve never asked Giorno for anything really. I don’t know how to propose it without making him suspicious--” 

Giorno can’t stand to read it anymore. 

Closing the book and placing it down, he steeples his fingers together. It takes a great deal of effort to frustrate him, normal composure melting away. Is it betrayal? Hurt? Jealousy? Everything wraps around his person, the air in his office feeling thick. Loosening the tie around his neck, he takes a much needed deep breath. 

A flash of your smile from earlier this evening at dinner comes to mind. You called him by his name, maintaining eye contact and asking about his day. Lulled into a false sense of security, wanting to believe nothing more than the farce unfolding before him. Of course you didn’t love him back. He was a fool to have deluded himself into believing that. 

At his fingertips is his phone. With a single phone call, he could command the world to fall. To have this guard who failed him tortured in the worst ways imaginable, experiencing hell on earth. Or to even join Passione’s former boss in a never ending cycle of death, that stretches the lengths of eternity. 

So many possibilities. Yet none of them would soothe the agony of his heart. Completely and utterly alone once more, like his earlier days. Requited love was all but an illusion, a fog that has now been lifted. 

Giorno purses his lips, considering. Fingers drum against his desk, the sound reverberating across the empty room. Grabbing a hold of his phone, he calls upon someone who could help him deal with this traitor appropriately. A message must be sent, he thinks, that will set the tone within the organization. It will hurt you to lose this newfound companion, but it’s a sacrifice he is willing to make. It’s not like you need to know the details either. 

The phone rings. Once, twice. Before his second in command on the other line picks up. 

“Yo, Giorno? You’re calling pretty late,” Mista’s voice is chipper as ever, the distant sound of music playing in the background. “Everything alright?” 

Getting up from his chair, he walks over to the window that overlooks his garden. His beloved wife walks among the paths, bending down and inspecting a rose. Giorno remembers when he turned an object into that very flower, how your dull eyes lit up at the awe inspiring sight. 

This is ultimately all for you, he reminds himself.

“Yes, everything is fine. Are you free at the moment? I have a job for you.”