#like they did kind of murder people but you get my point

[terukotime]

allow me to be super delulu for a second

if either Eden or Ace are the actual killer, that would mean one of them would be saying their secret quotes in the next coming episodes. but...do we really feel like the situation warrants them saying what their quotes are?

Ace's is: "I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

Eden's is: "You can't go back, no matter how hard you try."

Ace's feels a little strange to say in the trial. we're very close to unearthing the real culprit, and if Ace really is the killer, when would he say that? immediately upon being found out? the quote itself has their air of melancholy and defeatism, and even at his lowest, we know Ace isn't someone to concede or go down without a fight. and if he knows he's about to die, what's the point in saying "I don't know what to do with myself anymore" when he's not even going go be alive in the next few moments? He WON'T be doing anything with himself anymore, he'll be dead.

Eden's, while not as strange of a thing to say as Ace, is also kind of peculiar. when would she say it? while she's admitting to the murder? if Eden did it, sure, it's believable that she'd feel some regret, but the setup to her being the killer feels very odd now that we've gone through this big emotional moment between her and Teruko. honestly, after all that, if Eden really is the killer, i'd be more inclined to believe she WOULDN'T regret killing Arei. it'd seem like her crying and pleading was all just emotional manipulation. it also seems strange to me that Eden would have already had it in mind to kill Arei when she and Teruko found Ace, and took the opportunity to steal the tape to carry it out. i could definitely be wrong, and please correct me if i am, but i think the attempted murder was the same day as what happened with Eden and Arturo? honestly, even if it wasn't, it just feels weird to me that Eden would find some way to disguise her handwriting, set up a murder method even more elaborate than Nico's original version, and then do the whole trial pleading and sobbing for people to believe she didn't kill her and actually have regretted her actions. that shit is so premeditated that everything Eden has done thus far feels like immense emotional manipulation. while that could still be possible...it's not really that satisfying, i'd say. who knows, maybe i'm in severe denial, but i just think this characterization of Eden would be really weird. it would feel less like a betrayal of "man, this character i liked turned out to be awful", and more like a betrayal of "man, this character i liked has made a 180° in their personality without any foreshadowing of having a darker side to them".

and i'm just still really hung up on Hu. her secret quote, "I want to pay for what I've done. But even then, I still want to live." makes total sense in the context of this trial, especially after her secret reveal. and while it's pretty unlikely she took the tape from the gym, there's no guarantee that the person who took the tape at the time HAS to be the murderer. i'm just still hung up on the fact that it feels like there needs to be one last, big twist before the true killer is revealed. a moment where Teruko comes to her realization and the culprit is selected before she makes any actual accusation against them. we already knew Eden and Ace would be the ones Teruko was going to interrogate in the selection because of her explanation. just given how drdt has been written thus far, i feel like they wouldn't hand the potential answer to us like that so easily. like we wouldn't get to the point of selecting the culprit with the story already telling us it can only be one of two suspects.

it's entirely possible that i'm just coping and am refusing to accept that one of my favorite characters is actually the culprit. or that drdt could have a trial that isn't greatly written. it's totally fine if i'm wrong and Eden or Ace really is the killer, i definitely won't enjoy it much but it's not my story, nor would it completely make me drop drdt.

i honestly just needed to rant LMAO. this episode left me with a LOT of feelings.

[gaylordscooter]

You're at the Party

“so you brought mass murderers to my place without warning me beforehand?” Cross said.

“Haha, nice.”

“don't humor them, chara.”

Blue wrung his hands together, opening his mouth to explain only for Ink to cut in.

“Listen, these guys aren't gonna cause any trouble. Besides, I thought this was a place where people could start over.” Ink crossed his arms.

“Two of them killed everyone in their universe? Hm, a Sans killing a bunch of people…Where have I heard that before?” XChara nudged Cross’s arm.

“you know that isn’t the problem here.”

Everyone gave Cross a look as if he was the one that was being unreasonable here.

Cross sighed, “fine, they can stay. but they need to pass a test first.”

Blue narrowed his eyes skeptically. “What kind of test?”

“well, i guess it's more of a favor.”

“Is this what I think it is? You're not sending them there.”

Cross waved away his concern. “it’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“What are we talking about?” Ink questioned.

Blue leaned close to Ink. “He’s totally planning to use them to retrieve his friend.”

“Oh! Hah. Ahahahahaha!” Ink giggled like he told him a joke. His eyelights reflected his amusement as he stared at Cross. “So we’re at this part now, huh?”

Cross looked confused while Blue huffed at his words and XChara looked bored.

Ink clapped his hands together. “Well then~! Have fun with that~!” he said cheerfully.

“I'm sure those tildes have no malice behind it,” Blue deadpanned.

“Oh, when have my tildes ever held malice~?”

Blue opted for putting his hands on his waist rather than gracing that with a reply.

“Anyway, I gotta bounce! I’ll see y’all later. Don't have too much fun without me~!” He painted a hole in the ground and hopped into it while waving goodbye.

“Eugh, he's like a kid that just learned about emoticons,” XChara said.

“you can't even see the tildes,” Cross pointed out.

XChara rolled their eyes. “I don't have to. I can hear it in his voice.”

“Never mind that. Cross, you can't send them there! I’ve already been making a careful plan. To just toss it out the window and replace it with an improvised one isn't a good idea!”

He rolled his eyelights and crossed his arms. “It doesn't need to work, anyway. I don't expect it to.”

Blue’s sockets widened as he gasped. “So you're just,” he gestured wildly, “sending them off to their deaths? Where's your compassion?”

“Where was their compassion when they hurt all those monsters?”

Blue narrowed his eye sockets. “Where's your compassion?” he repeated in a duller tone.

“Don't you have a Mettaton to serve? This isn't your business.” he snapped back.

Blue threw his hands up, “Wow! Sheesh. Fine. Go have fun torturing the prisoners of war.” He stormed off with a frown.

XChara and Cross watched as he walked in a direction that definitely led to nowhere rather than towards the town.

“He has a point,” XChara stated.

“Awful navigation skills is what he has,” Cross spat. He noticed XChara’s unamused face and did a double take. “Do you actually agree with him?”

“Huh! Do I agree with him that you have no right to judge these morally messed up monsters and that sending them to that freak’s place as punishment is completely hypocritical of you?” They stroked their chin and pretended to think about it hard. “Yes, Mr. ‘the reason why our world has become a hotspot for people who messed up like you!’”

“You don't care about them at all. You're just saying that to spite me.”

“I am, thanks for noticing,” they deadpanned.

Cross brought a hand to his face and sighed.

Killer awoke. He wasn't refreshed in the slightest and he nearly panicked over waking up in unfamiliar surroundings if it wasn't for Dust smacking him on the head.

No wait, he was called Dusk now. He even came up with that name for him.

Sheesh, the sudden change is gonna be hard to get used to.

Right. New chapter of his life. Again. Again again, actually.

Ironically, he was starting to get sick of new experiences.

This wasn't a bad change, really. In fact, it was a clear upgrade. Well, that's what he thought back when Nightmare first found him too, so.

He was waiting for the catch. He was ready this time.

There was a knock on the door.

Both of them had the knee-jerk reaction of summoning a blaster angled at the door but then the rational part of their minds took over and they scrambled out of bed to hold their blasters' mouths shut.

“good morning to you guys too,” said the voice behind the door.

They managed to desummon their blasters once they recognized that it was, in fact, Horror that knocked.

There was unmistakable joy on Killer’s face. He didn't say it, but he was convinced Horror was going to avoid them since they got settled in.

He skipped over to the door like a gleeful idiot and opened the door.

Killer was surprised by his getup. It was the first time he's seen him in different clothing. If it wasn't for the red eye in his socket he wouldn't have recognized him.

The first thing he noticed was the cap he was wearing. It was a generic white cap that covered the hole in his head. Other than that, his outfit was the same as any other normal Sans, sans the signature hoodie. He also looked a lot less tired.

“‘sup, h—sans. ‘sup sans,” Killer said, barely catching himself. He couldn't help but still refer to him as “Horror” in his mind, since from the day they met that's what he called him and known him as. But those names were nothing but brands that Nightmare put on him and Dusk. They weren't names that they chose for themselves.

“hey,” he replied with a small wave, mostly aimed at Dusk to acknowledge his presence even though he hadn't approached the door yet. “so…” he trailed off, unsure.

So.

They were in unfamiliar territory now. After a whole year of living with Nightmare, they formed somewhat of a schedule. A loose one, but a schedule nonetheless—mainly built off of the way Nightmare acted. 

With that thrown out the window, every step they took was unfamiliar. Potentially dangerous. Ironic, considering they were in a safer area now. At least they assumed so.

They hoped so.

They would normally eat breakfast at this time, probably. They weren't ever exactly sure what time it was, but that's how it's been their whole life. It felt like it was around that time, at least.

“my bro said there's a bakery here.” Another pause. Okay, he didn't have to make this that awkward. “you two wanna scope the place out with me?”

Killer’s smile perked up at the edges. “hate to say it, that sounded like you just asked us out on a date.”

“‘k, forget i asked.” He made the move to shut the door.

“nah, i’m joking! we’ll go—” he whipped his head to Dusk for verification, who gave him a thumbs up. “—yeah, let's go.”

So they got out of the hotel room. The lobby had a few people, unlike last time.

None of the three really acknowledged anyone there and no one acknowledged them, until some Monster Kid said a mere hello that made them all awkwardly respond; either with a curt head nod, wave, or quiet “hi” back.

Boy, they weren't ready to be perceived by anyone else. How the hell were they going to handle entering a cafe, let alone going outside? Well, Sans managed, so.

Sans was probably the most stable of the three, let's be real. He was the only one who had contact with other people before Nightmare came to them. When it comes to interaction, Killer and Dusk have done nothing but literally talk to themselves for who knows how long.

The second Sans started to open the door, Killer protested, “actually. could you just grab me something instead? i’ll stay in the room.” When he turned to retreat, Dusk grabbed him by the arm.

Dusk gave him a look that spelled “really, coward?”

“i don't think i’m ready, okay? sue me,” he said. He could already feel eyes on him. The stares gnawed away at his bones, trying to eat him alive. 

They knew what he wanted to do.

Dusk sighed, letting go of his arm. “we can't go,” he signed to Sans.

“right…” he sounded disappointed—no that was pity in his voice. He probably didn’t even expect the two to agree in the first place. “anything specific you want?”

“nothin’ with chocolate.”

Dusk shook his head.

“gotcha. i’ll be back in a bit,” he said.

Dusk and Killer watched as he sauntered off to be a normal monster that was a part of society. Then they walked at a breakneck pace back to their room.

Once they were back in the safety of their private room, they collapsed on their beds.

Killer, face buried against his pillow, groaned in frustration. “i hate this. we're safe now and i can't even go outside. do you feel it too, dusk? that tug on your soul?”

He might kill someone if he went outside. It was highly likely.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy to return to a normal life—of course his high LOVE would haunt him. He was too tired yesterday to be bothered by it, but now, any other monster he saw that wasn't Dusk or Sans had his soul screaming for more exp.

“i’m trying to ignore it,” Dusk mumbled.

He laughed. That's not going to work. That is not going to work and they both know it. 

That’s.

That's not going to work.

“it was—it was better when we were stuck with Nightmare. we wouldn't be able to—”

“It wasn’t better,” Dusk interrupted.

“—we’re going to kill someone. we're going to kill someone and it's going to snowball and it'll—hah—it'll be like a snowball of dust!”

He was choking now, on the rotten determination coming out of his skull.

“killer.”

That's what he was, wasn't he? A killer.

“killer!”

That's all he was.

“Killer.”

Oh, someone was holding him by the shoulders. Wow, everything was blurry and stained black. No, that was just the liquid in his sockets. He tilted his head down, letting it flow out until he could see better.

Oh, it was Dusk. Right.

He shuddered out a breath. He realized all his senses had turned off for the past few seconds. When the hell did he get on the floor?

His eyelights finally focused enough to stare back at Dusk. He didn't like the worried look he had on his face. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but all that did was make him hack out more rotten determination.

“well…” the sentence died on his teeth the second he started. “i want to go back to sleep,” he settled on saying.

Dusk brought him into a stilted not-quite-a-hug, where he brought him closer and draped his skull over his shoulder.

They just. Stayed there. For a bit.

“another episode…i’m starting a daily streak, really.” Any humor he thought that statement would have was completely absent. God, how fucking pathetic was he? Surely Dusk was struggling with his LOVE just as much as he was but he didn’t fuss about it. He shouldn’t need Dusk’s comfort and Dusk shouldn’t need to comfort him. He was so selfish. So needy.

Killer willed himself to move away from Dusk to lay back down on his bed.

The room was quiet until someone knocked on the door again.

Dusk opted to answer the door since Killer wasn't budging.

Fortunately it was Sans who was at the door but unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Behind him was another skeleton he hadn't seen before.

He wore monochromatic clothing and there were large x’s on his sleeves and boots. He looked a lot younger than all of them. He must've been in his 20’s. His eyelights were a lot bigger than the average sans, with a slitted pupil reminiscent of a cat’s.

Despite the youthful look, one glance was enough to tell Dusk that he had a lot of LOVE too. It wasn’t nearly as much as he or Killer had, but it was more than the amount Sans had.

Dusk glared at the stranger as if he personally wronged him.

Sans didn’t look too happy either with the death grip he had on the bag containing their breakfast.

“hey,” Sans said. He walked in as if everything was fine and normal.

The stranger also tried walking in as if everything was fine and normal.

A wall of bones rose in front of him to block his path.

Killer sat up on the bed, “nope. not dealing with unwelcome company now, thank you.”

The stranger cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “well, i’m actually the organizer of this place. the name’s cross. i’m sure ink told you three about me.”

“i’ve never heard of you in my life,” Killer said.

It was painfully clear that Cross was already annoyed by Killer, despite his attempts to keep his face neutral. “i’ll just get to the point—”

“he’s gonna test us. if we pass, we can stay. if we don’t, we’re getting kicked out,” Sans said. He opened the bag of food and grabbed a pastry for himself before handing it over to Dusk.

Dusk hesitated as he grabbed the bag. He quickly grabbed the first pastry he laid his hand on and turned to Killer.

“we’re getting kicked out?” Killer repeated.

“only if you don’t pass the test,” Cross emphasized.

Killer stood up as the wall of bones went away. He shambled over to him with a misleadingly calm expression. He leaned close to Cross’s head, keeping his hands by his sides. “what’s the test?”

Cross stood his ground, keeping his eyes locked on Killer as if he would attack him if he merely glanced away. “a rescue mission,” he answered with a steady voice despite the tension.

“the blue guy said you weren’t going to torture us,” Killer spat.

“it’s not torture. i have a plan. it should be simple,” Cross insisted.

He narrowed his eye sockets. “so why are you using us as fodder?”

“it’s a test.”

Sans snagged the bag from Dusk and shoved it over to Killer. “no point in complainin’, just roll with it.”

Killer pushed the bag aside. “why are you being so compliant? he’s going to send us to our deaths!”

“because we don’t have a choice,” he sighed. “besides, we’ve gone through hell and back, what’s one more trial?”

Killer caved in and grabbed the bag to fish out a pastry for himself. He took a hefty bite from it specifically to talk with his mouth full, “you gonna leave us alone after we complete this ‘rescue mission’?”

“yeah, just this one thing and you’ll all prove that i can trust you to stay here.”

Killer winced at the word “trust”. He quickly scarfed the rest of the pastry down. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame Cross for putting them through a trial considering that they’re all murderers. Well, he didn’t think Sans should be judged to the same extent as them. He needed to kill all those humans in order to survive.

“why does sans need to go too? his friends and family have already been staying here,” he asked.

Cross looked surprised by his question. Fucker probably didn’t expect him to be considerate. “the plan’s easier with three people, and all three of you worked with nightmare.”

“worked!?” Killer shoved the bag towards Sans and grabbed Cross by his shirt. “we didn’t work with that bastard. he KIDNAPPED us! if you think for one second that we associated with him? oh you got it entirely wrong, asshole! do you think we had fun being his fucking toys?” he snapped.

“killer, let go of him,” Sans said.

“y’know what? fine. i’ll do your stupid test. nothing you put me through will be worse than what he did to us,” he snarled before pushing him away.

Cross fixed the wrinkles Killer made on his clothes. His nonchalant behavior pissed Killer off even more.

He was lucky he actually listened to Sans.

“sorry, i wasn’t aware of that,” he said quietly.

Killer calmed down only slightly at the apology. He crossed his arms and scoffed, “you better be.”

Cross waited for them to finish eating breakfast before he went over the plan.

As he talked more, the three were even less psyched about doing this.

They were going to disguise themselves and then enter the place through a portal made by Ink. The first part of the plan was finding the right monster. Cross handed them an image for reference. They collectively sighed when they saw it was yet another Sans. If he wasn't wearing the same outfit it would be hard to find him, that's not to mention that Cross said the place they were infiltrating was a packed warehouse.

The second part of the plan was actually leaving the place. Which was supposedly the easier part of the plan because Ink will arrive and make another portal once they find the monster.

All in all, this just sounded like some dumb hidden object game rather than a rescue mission.

Ink arrived at the room shortly after Cross finished explaining. He came in holding a pile of clothes, their disguises.

Said clothes were all campy and flashy.

“in what world,” Sans held up a sequin jacket that had colors that could blind hawks, “are these disguises?”

“Well you're going to a party! A rave, specifically,” Ink explained.

Killer snatched a red leather jacket and bell bottom jeans from the pile. “all of these shirts suck, i’m gonna change.” He went over to the bathroom with the articles in hand.

“Oh yeah!” Ink snapped his hand. He reached into the pockets of his pants and took out three pairs of sunglasses, each were different shapes. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

“glasses,” Sans remarked.

Dusk and Sans exchanged glances with each other.

“it's really bright there,” Cross explained.

“in a warehouse?”

“trust me, the strobe lights could probably blind you otherwise.”

Sans narrowed his sockets.

Killer finished changing and waltzed out of the bathroom, flaunting his gaudy outfit.

“no shirt?” Sans remarked.

“i said they all suck.”

“surely you could just wear the shirt you already had on.”

“actually,” Cross butted in, “after you three get back we’re burning those clothes immediately. so probably don't wear anything that's actually yours.”

“and why are you doing that?”

“Cooties,” Ink deadpanned.

Cross frowned at him.

“Anyways, take a pair. Whatever you do, do not take them off.” Ink held out the shades with a wink.

Killer opted for the triangular ones while Dusk grabbed the rectangular ones and Sans got the circular ones.

Then Dusk and Sans grabbed whatever clothing, tossing any attempts to make a cohesive outfit out the window, and took turns changing in the bathroom.

Finally, Cross looked over the three, determining if their disguises were good to go. Dusk and Sans’s fits were horrible. That neon fluffy bucket hat that Sans wore was definitely not comfortable. At least Killer had a cohesive outfit.

He spent a second longer looking at Killer's sunglasses. He leaned close to Ink. “it doesn't cover his sockets fully,” he whispered.

“It’ll be fiiine,” Ink assured. He clasped his hands together. “Okay! You're all ready to go. Don't forget, you're looking for Epic, the most notable feature is the scar on his eye socket. Keep your distance from other partygoers and do not take off those shades.” His scarf swept at the floor underneath the three, creating holes that lead to their destination.

The three could barely see Ink waving goodbye as they fell.

The landing wasn't bad, all of them landed on their feet just fine, but the change in atmosphere gave them whiplash. While it was dark as night, strobe lights flashed and lit up the place erratically.

Oh god the music.

Eurodance from the 90’s was blasting with bass heavy enough to shake the building.

Oh god, the amount of monsters.

They were also dressed in gaudy outfits, which explained why their disguises were like that.

“cool. all we need to do is find whoever the hell ‘epic’ is. should we split?” Killer asked.

“oh god no,” Sans said.

Dusk grabbed them by their shoulders to drag them around and start their search.

“they're all wearing glasses too, didn't they say a scar on the socket is how we can differentiate him?” Sans said.

Killer groaned, “this is gonna take forever! we should just ask around or something.”

“you suddenly in the mood for social interaction?”

“this sensory nightmare’s making me feel like i’m floating out of my body, i just want to get this over with.” Killer approached one of the partygoers. “hey, y’know where a skeleton called epic is?”

He was completely ignored.

“cool. awesome. if we don't split up this’ll literally take forever, peace.” Killer walked off without waiting for the other two’s input.

Dusk and Sans watched as he got lost in the crowd in a whopping five seconds.

Dusk face palmed.

“maybe…maybe we can ask the dj? then they'll put out an announcement, or something,” Sans said.

“not that simple,” Dusk signed. He spelled out “fishy”.

“would it hurt to try?”

Dusk frantically shook his fist in a “yes.”

“eh, don't be a downer. where is the dj, anyway?” He looked around, fortunately most of the monsters here were around the same height as him so his view wasn't too obstructed. “yeesh, this place is big.”

The strobe lights flickered more as they all started moving to one point. The lights shone on the DJ station, the DJ themself was still shrouded in darkness. The sound of scratching discs filled the building as the music quieted down. “HOW WE FEELIN’ BROSEPHS ‘N JOESEPHS!?”

A mechanical roar of cheers rang out among the crowd.

They recognized that voice. They most definitely recognized that voice.

Dusk grabbed Sans by the arm.

“okay,” Sans breathed, “that's fine. maybe, no one knows his deal. we can just. leave the building.”

Dusk tugged at Sans, pointing furiously at the ground.

It was hard to notice due to how dark and packed it is, but on the ground were several piles of dust.

“hm. nice knowing ya.”

“You party animals havin’ fun?! I know I am, yo!” The unmistakable sound of Fresh’s voice boomed throughout the warehouse. The lights finally shone on him. He looked exactly the same as the first time they saw him. He was spinning. a disc on his finger. “I just gots some totes rad news before we continue on with gettin’ jiggy.”

The colored lights moved over to his side, revealing a stage that was hidden in the darkness, and on the stage was Killer. He looked confused, as if he didn't even know how he got up there.

Sans nearly swore but Dusk slapped a hand over his mouth.

When he caught sight of Fresh he stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Any bros know this fool?” Fresh asked. He put the disk back on the turntable and scratched his chin. “I don't. Did we invite him?” His bemusement barely masked his elation at having prey he didn't have to catch.

Killer didn't know what to do. He looked down at the crowd. The sunglasses they wore were originally all blank but the familiar “YOLO” text was on them now.

Running definitely wasn't going to help.

“Eh no biggie. I’ll give him a proper introduction to this rad party.” Fresh turned the music back on.

Killer internally swore at Cross, cursing his entire life. He was going to die and it was going to be to the fucking tune of a stupid 90’s song about sex. Well he wasn't going down without a fight.

He summoned a blaster aimed at Fresh and fired.

Only for one of the partygoers to leap into the blast to block it.

Killer watched in horror as he dusted that monster. The familiar rush of exp hit him like a truck, he couldn't help but fall to his knees.

“oh god,” Sans muttered from the crowd.

The three were completely powerless in this situation. This wasn't a fucking test. They were sent to their deaths.

What a sick joke.

“Oh snap! Well, you're just gonna hafta replace that now, aren't ya?” Fresh disappeared with a poof, promptly reappearing behind Killer.

Killer quickly pushed himself up and backed away from him.

Fresh didn't even follow him, the stage wasn't that big anyway.

He reached the edge of the stage, back to the crowd. Only Fresh could see the fear on his face.

Some of the crowd climbed on stage to grab his ankles, anchoring him down.

 He was hyperventilating, he was overwhelmed, he felt nothing at all.

He felt nothing at all.

Dusk and Sans went as far as they could away from the stage. They eventually reached a wall. Sans leaned against it in defeat while Dusk banged his skull against it.

Sans winced at the loud thud.

They could vaguely see the stage from here. Killer was gone and Fresh returned to his station.

The party continued on like nothing happened.

“so. do you think you’ll end up back in your universe after, or.”

Dusk huffed.

“right.” Dumb question.

They just stood there against the wall watching the neverending party. They questioned if this was hell or purgatory. No, this was definitely hell.

“ey, i finally found you guys.” It was Killer.

Dusk and Sans tensed.

His soul was a shape they’ve never seen it be before. It was in the shape of a flower.

“chillax, i’m not gonna do anything,” he said. His cadence was off. “you two have just been standing there all gloomy…” He put a hand on the wall just above Dusk’s shoulder. “why don’t you come join the fun?”

With how close he was, Dusk was able to see the parasitic flower in the small sliver of his sockets that wasn't covered by the triangular shades.

Killer leaned closer to his face. “c’mon, i’m getting lonely.”

Sans socked him in the face.

Dusk flinched back in surprise as Killer fell to the ground from the impact.

Sans shook the pain off his hand. “i think we're good.”

Dusk knelt down by Killer. He took his shades off and immediately plunged his hand into the socket containing the flower.

“uh—” Sans reached a hand out but was interrupted by Killer’s lucid screaming.

The nearby skeletons slowed their dancing, turning over to the interruption.

With one last quick yank, the flower snapped off. Dusk dropped it and stamped his foot on it repeatedly.

Killer gasped for air and keened in pain. Then he passed out.

Dusk blinked in shock.

Sans cringed, “think you went a bit overboard.”

“you were the one who punched him!” Dusk blurted stupidly.

“yup, and you committed malpractice.”

The music came to a halt with a dramatic record scratch.

The lights landed on the three.

“Yo, dudes. Quit harshin’ the vibe,” Fresh scoffed into the mic.

Dusk rolled his eyelights and picked Killer up, draping him over his shoulder.

They were surrounded now, by the skeletons under his control.

Dusk summoned multiple blasters overhead, ready to fire if any of them stepped closer.

“Yeesh! You three weren't even invited! What's the dealio? That scummy octo brought you here to rustle my jimmies or something?”

That. Wasn't even 90’s lingo.

There was some feedback coming from the mic. “That thing’s not comin’ here for real, actually, right?” For once he sounded unsure.

Was he actually threatened by Nightmare?

They had to roll with the lie. They could survive this. They just had to convince him he was coming.

Sans put a hand on Dusk’s shoulder. “nah yeah, he won't have to intervene as long as we get what he needs.”

“Bogus! Whaddaheck would that dillweed need?”

Sans pulled out the image of Epic from his pocket and showed it to the nearest partygoer. “we just need this guy, and we'll be outta your hair.”

“Oooh, yeah, I get what you're layin’ down.”

Said nearest partygoer grabbed Sans’s wrist.

“You're fibbin’.”

Welp.

Dusk was just about to fire the blasters on standby, only for a cluster of bones to sprout from the ceiling and stab through the giant skulls.

Dusk grumbled. He adjusted his grip on Killer so that he didn't drop him.

“you're kinda grabbing his butt,” Sans pointed out.

“we’ve done worse.”

“go back to not talking.”

“Aight. So y’all come on in uninvited and interrupt my bodacious party? S’all good. I’ll let you dudes bounce…not!” Fresh yelled into the mic. “I’m gonna enjoy taking y’all over. You're not worming your way out this time.”

Right as his sentence ended, it was disproved. A portal opened. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

That portal looked similar to the ones Nightmare made, actually.

“Ah, nah, what’s the dealio?”

But instead of the guardian of negativity arriving, a huge wave of tiny not-quite-skeletons poured in like a flood.

“what,” Dusk and Sans said in unison as absolute chaos unfolded in the warehouse.

These “not-quite-skeletons” acted more like hyperactive temmies. Their giant skulls were bigger than the rest of their body making them look more like aliens than anything. They all wore bandanas that matched the color of their huge star eyelights. They bounded around the place causing total anarchy.

Fresh among others were trampled by these small menaces. Some were simply dancing to the music while others were actively jumping some of the partygoers. They swore they even saw one playing with a pile of dust.

And all of this was happening while “We Like to Party!” by the Vengaboys was playing.

A second portal opened up behind them. They didn't even get to process this before someone yanked them through.

They both landed on their backs. Killer peacefully laid atop Dusk, still managing to sleep through that all. Hopefully he wasn't in a coma.

Dusk and Sans looked at each other, unsure if they were both already dead or if what they saw was all real.

Certainly one hell of a deus ex machina, but with all the shit they’ve gone through they might as well accept it with open arms.

It was Blue that stood over them, looking utterly concerned. “oh my GOD, you three almost died! well, you would’ve been under fresh’s control for whoever knows how long and then you would collapse from exhaustion and then die, but still,” he rambled. He put a hand on his face. “If my plan didn't work…well! Glad it did! Even if it wasn't the one I initially had,” he sighed in relief. “I’m SO sorry you guys went through that! I told Cross not to do it but, ARGH, no one listens to me!” He stomped his foot, it reminded them of Papyrus.

Another portal appeared next to him and two skeletons walked out. One was dressed like they just walked out of an anime convention and the other was clearly a skeleton from Fresh’s party.

“Thank you so much Dream,” Blue said.

Dream?

The two looked closely at him. There was a star made out of magic floating by his forehead. It reminded them of the crescent moon that rested near Nightmare's forehead. He was the one that created the portals similar to him too.

“you're his brother,” Sans said.

“Hm? Brother? I don’t…”

“They already know he's your brother, Dream,” Blue interrupted.

Dream darted his eyelights away guiltily. “I promise you, I’m not like him at all. I’m so sorry he held you all captive for a year! It must've been horrible.”

Dusk and Sans didn't really care about the needless pity. Both of them had one thing on their mind and it was punching the living daylights out of Cross.

“Right…” Blue said awkwardly. “Anyway, Dream, please tend to Epic, I’ll take these guys from here.”

Dream nodded and teleported himself and the other skeleton, who was apparently Epic, off to someplace else.

Blue stared down at the three who hadn't budged at all. “So, do you guys need help getting up, or.”

“i’m staying down here, thanks,” Sans said.

“Is Killer knocked out, or sleeping?”

“he's been out cold ever since Dusk ripped off the flower in his socket.”

Blue smacked the side of his skull, looking distraught. He looked around the place—they just realized they were in someone's living room—and told them to stay there before bolting off to another room.

Sans turned his attention to Killer and Dusk. “are you just gonna have him lay on top of you the whole time?”

Dusk shrugged. Honestly he was kind of comfortable like this. Killer was like a weighted blanket.

Sans finally got up from the floor, stretching his back with a groan. He stumbled over to the couch nearby and flopped onto it. He massaged his face. “god, i don't want to do anything ever again.”

Dusk hummed in agreement.

Blue came back shortly after with a stash of snacks. He dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “I got some snacks so you guys can replenish your energy. Do any of you know healing magic?”

Dusk nodded.

Blue walked over to him, leaning down to pick up Killer off of him only for Dusk to slap his hand away. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were stuck,” he said, embarrassed.

Dusk sat up, holding Killer in his arms. He carefully put his hand over his soul and started healing it.

“you're not even going to eat first—Okay, that's fine.” Blue looked away from the poor medical practice. He waited a moment. “Okay, you're not supposed to keep going until he wakes up, you're gonna overload his soul with magic.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and drew his hand away.

“He should wake up in a few minutes. In the meantime,” he grabbed something off the table and threw it at him, “eat something!”

The packaged snack bumped his head and fell to the floor sadly.

Dusk laid Killer down, having his head rest on his legs so that he could pick up the snack and eat it.

Blue turned to Sans. “You should eat something too.”

Sans glanced at the food on the table, then back at Blue. “why are you helping us?” he asked.

Blue looked disheartened by his suspicion. He fidgeted with his hands. “because i want to. And why wouldn't I? Everyone deserves help!”

“real naive of you to say.”

Blue’s expression hardened. “Fine, maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I want to feel like I’m worth something by helping people out. Maybe I’m sick of people dying when I could’ve done something. Maybe I’m guilty, so I help assholes like you in order to cope! Is that a selfish enough answer for you?”

Sans grabbed something off the table to eat. “sure.”

Blue sighed, crossing his arms. “good.”

They sat in silence as the two ate a bit. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Killer finally woke up.

He rolled off of Dusk. He immediately fired a round of questions, “everything hurts. why’s it so dark. where am i?”

“The lights are on?” Blue said.

“who the hell are you?”

“i think you blinded him, dude,” Sans said.

“what?!” Killer shouted.

“He shouldn’t be permanently blinded, he just needs to eat!” Blue assured. “Carelessly yanking out Fresh’s flower temporarily blinds the victim because it injures the orbit, and any injury to that area causes temporary blindness as our magic prioritizes healing it over being able to see.”

“oh, you’re the nerd that gave us food yesterday.”

“i’m the huh?” Blue mumbled. He shook off the insult and grabbed some packaged crackers off the table to give to Killer. “Anyway, we’re not at the hub right now. You guys are gonna crash at my place, which is here, until I give Cross a talk.”

Killer gnawed on the crackers without removing the wrapper, until Dusk snatched it from him to properly open it and hand it back to him. 

Killer poured the crumbs into his mouth, a good amount of it missed and landed on the floor which Blue decided to ignore.

After blinking a few times, Killer was able to see again. “where is ‘here’?”

“I don’t really have time to explain what this place is but uh, I suggest not going outside because you might end up in a different universe,” Blue said casually. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long, but in case I am, you guys are free to raid the kitchen, watch some tv, etc—Oh yeah! I also have a book containing all my notes on the multiverse if you wanna read it. Since you three are outcodes now it’ll be useful to know about some of the threats and important areas in the multiverse.”

The three of them looked at him like he was speaking a different language.

He coughed into his hand and pulled the book out from his inventory to set it on the coffee table. He awkwardly waved goodbye which got no responses and left the house.

“that guy’s too nice,” Killer remarked. “how hasn’t he died?”

“my guess is dumb luck or he’s hiding something.” Sans sat up on the couch, looking curiously at the book, which was actually just some spiral bound notebook. He picked it up, might as well read it to pass the time.

Killer stood up, stumbling a bit as he waited for the vertigo to pass. “i’m gonna snoop around,” he announced.

“have fun with that.”

While Killer wandered off and Sans read, Dusk went over to the fridge.

Sans flipped through the pages of the notebook, skimming over the titles of various names of people and places. He paused when he saw Nightmare’s name.

“dusk, get over here!”

Dusk walked over with no haste at all. He was holding two glasses, and was currently drinking out of one. He held out the other to Sans.

Sans looked up from the book to see the concoction he was giving him. It was nearly the same as all the past times Dusk made the mistake of playing bartender. Except this time…”did you add crushed chips? that thing has at least four different textures in it now.”

Dusk shrugged.

Killer walked back in the room, looking very dissatisfied. He wasn’t able to find anything interesting or any skeletons in the closet. His sights immediately landed on the drinks. “what the fuck is that?” he chuckled.

“nah, killer this ain’t for you.” Sans took the second drink from Dusk’s hand.

“aw, what?”

“anyway,” he took a sip, “this guy has notes about nightmare.”

Killer walked around the table and sat next to Sans. “woah, that's crazy.” He leaned closer at the book, but quickly switched his target to the drink.

Unfortunately, Sans was quick enough to move the drink away before he could take a sip.

Killer grumbled disappointedly and looked back at the book, actually reading the page this time. “i mean, we already know all of this, i don't see how this is…” he trailed off as he got halfway through the page. “huh. he’s had quite the history.”

“whaddya think being ‘the guardian of negativity’ means?”

“does it matter? we hate him. end of story.”

Sans eyed the line that said Nightmare couldn't feel positive emotions. If that was true, that explained a lot of things, but did that change anything? Not really. “yeah, i guess it doesn't.”

Once he was back at the hub, Blue hunted down Cross. His angry speech died on his metaphorical tongue the second he saw him and Epic having a reunion. He stopped in his tracks and watched them from a distance.

Ink appeared by his side, also watching the two. “Ah, a happy ending.” “It was completely unnecessary for any of this to happen and you know it,” Blue said sternly.

Ink pouted. “Aw, are you mad at me? It wasn’t my idea to send those three to their deaths.”

Blue scowled at him. “But it’s your fault Fresh kidnapped Epic in the first place.” Ink looked dumbfounded and then guilty, like a dog that was caught doing something it shouldn’t. “You’re getting too good at reading me…” he sighed. “How long did you know?”

“The second we found out it was Fresh that took Epic I immediately knew it was you,” Blue deadpanned. There were only a few people who could’ve let Fresh into the place, and only one person who would’ve. Besides, ever since Cross rescued Epic from his scripted death, Ink would glare at him like he personally wronged him.

“Aw,” Ink gave him a hug, “and you didn’t tell anyone?” He didn’t just not tell anyone he also covered for him. There was a reason Cross didn’t know he did it. “There wasn’t any point to.” “And you wouldn’t rat out your best friend!”

Blue flicked his cheek bone. “Sure,” he said sarcastically. He ended the hug with Ink with a gentle shove. “Those three are probably gonna try to kill Cross though. I’m making that your responsibility.”

Ink giggled at the idea of the three hunting down Cross. “Eh, he can handle that on his own.”

[googledetective]

my thoughts on the new episode as always, as I am currently losing my shit lol. I know a lot of people dislike me after last ep when I spoke up about my thoughts, but this time I'm ready to be more mature about it.

1. I love the Hu argue uhhh thingy! I forgot what it's called ngl! I love her and Nico's new sprites too, they were really all amazing and conveyed so much emotion!

And then Hu said this 💀

genuinely insane analogy to make here. I'm sorry, but that was actually insanely uncalled for imo.

2. I think everyone forgot Hu's custom weapon is wire, (if you realized and predicted this, huge props to you), and I did not expect Nico to try and frame Hu for murder like that. NicoHu divorce arc when??? Just kidding, but they're much more cruel then I originally thought. I completely understand trauma from not being accepted as the person you are which was likely in the form of bullying/abuse, but I was genuinely surprised that they really try and murdered Ace just because they didn't like him and they didn't want to go through that again. Very interesting. I also feel very bad for Hu, because she's poured her heart into trying to protect Nico, and even though her methods are EXTREMELY flawed, it must hurt to know someone you really tried to help would try to frame you for murder. This makes me wonder if Nico felt Hu was a threat to their sense of self like Ace was, if they were going to try and pin a murder on her. I'm glad Charles and J told Hu to shut up though, because she was becoming unreasonable. I really hope things turn out the best for her though, because it's clear she's coming from a place of kindness, even if her kindness is mostly self-serving.

3. As much as I don't really like the guy, I'm very glad to have seen Ace pop off. Everyone has treated him like shit, and even if he's treated everyone like shit back, he did not deserve to be almost murdered and then for people to just not care. I really hope Ace ends up making a friend if he isn't the killer, because he really deserves someone to care about him the way mostly everyone in the cast already has someone.

4. They both make very good points here. I think Ace deserves an apology, but a real one.

5. "of course I regret doing it, I'm not Levi" - Nico

THATS ACTUALLY INSANE- but that may be my favorite line of the ep. I'm glad Nico regrets the crime though, because I was scared for awhile they didn't and there might be another incident of the same thing again. This makes me think they won't try and kill again, but it's drdt so you never know, and I think they're a definite threat if they get provoked to that point so easily.

6. I feel so bad for Rose, but let me say, dare I say, I think Whit asking if Rose is okay might've been the sweetest thing Ive ever seen. A lot of people tend to forget that Whit is actually very compassionate, so I'm glad to see that part of him shine through again. Rose is so human, and I think she may be the most realistic character I've ever seen portrayed in a fangan. A lot of characters are able to just get back up after a murder, but she's stuck, and I think I would be the same way. Unfortunately there's zero mental health professionals (obviously, cause they all need to be in a ward) in drdt, but I hope that she maybe can come to cope in a healthier way with what's going on around her, because she doesn't deserve this mess. I didn't actually realize before that the cast had put her on a bit of a pedestal due to her amazing memory, but it makes sense. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I hope that Rose comes to peace with the turpentine and the tape thing because it really isn't her fault and that she can get help for her trauma due to Min and Xander, and Teruko's almost death. No matter how much people expect her to memorize a crime scene, she's human, and we all take things at much different paces.

7.

Hey David, didn't Whit teach us that trauma is a serious thing? You know I've been defending this guy a bit because of how he helped Eden and how I think he's trying to do what's right, but NEVERMIND. Because what the actual fuck is wrong with him to say something as messed up as these two statements. Rose and Arturo do not owe you anything, and they deserve to heal healthy, and at their own pace.

8. Teruko defending Rose was not in my ch2 trial bingo card, but oh my god, that really is sweet. I think Teruko really has started to change from talking with Rose.

I'm running out of images so I can't include her monologue, but it genuinely makes me happy she's starting to get some sort of character development. She really deserves it, and Charles really deserved being so fucking right about being social, lol. Also Teruko thanking Rose with that genuine smile on her face- brought me to tears. I hope they become friends :)

9. Ace and Eden, huh? To be honest, I'm completely torn and I can't see it being either one of them, but then again, I can't see it being anyone. I know so many people are complaining about not having a culprit reveal this ep, but I'm fine. I could wait another year and a half for the reveal. Actually, I don't think we need one at all. Maybe the true drdt is the friends we made along the way. Maybe it's better to choose delusion that nobody could've done it than it to have been Ace or Eden. Maybe, I killed Arei.

(I'm not that smart so I don't think I should be making killer theories, lol. I think it's safe to say I should stick to memes.)

10.

LMAOOOO. She right though.

11. "It pains me to come to Ace's defense" - David

another laughable moment, but a win for the Acevid shippers, I guess. I don't think David was lying though, and it was my suspicion all along that he had seen the body before anyone. I'm not very smart so I'm a bit confused as to whether later they're saying David actually did see her body (which is weird bc he'd have an alibi), or if he thinks someone else might've seen it and wanted to include that as a possibility.

12.

Teruko handled this whole situation super well, I was very impressed with her. Obviously you can't rule Eden out as the killer and Teruko explained that, but she was so compassionate and understanding about it that it made me cry. I never thought I'd say this, but here's a Teruko W. As for Eden pleading... I wish I could say more and I'm sure I'll be able to later, but it's just so likely she could be the culprit that I can't take anything she says at face value rn, and I was having trouble empathizing with her. Of course that's just my take, and I have already chatted with others who felt the whole scene was just a heartwarming experience, and that makes me really happy. This being said, the fact Teruko immediately turned to Ace as her main suspect TOOK ME OUT. I feel so bad for him he has literally done nothing but be suspicious to warrant this, while Eden is at the same level of suspicion. I really like that Teruko is playing favorites now, because Eden's been so good to her all this time.

13. I forgot to include David trying to get Teruko to not trust others!!! Shit!!!

Is that seriously how he plans to end the kg.. I can kinda see what he's going for bc so far the trope is in most danganronpa that you need to trust others to live and be fulfilled (not saying drdt is gonna follow that trope though). Hm.

Bro is actually down horrendous for Teruko though 😭

tierlist after watching this ep (kill me now)

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

"the news said Jefferson's victims weren't sexually assaulted" the news said the diaz brothers were heartless murderers. btw.

[boarprinceofdelusion]

Recognizing Early Signs of Mental Illness

[six-improbable-things]

I forgot to post anything about this, but I did the scene where I had to read some of my writing to the dnd party (twice!) and they were SO nice about it. I couldn't stop smiling. (which was kind of a weird disconnect since the scenes were super dark, lmao.) But augh, I'm so glad they were nice to meeee. My poor boy Rook is Going Through It right now, and things are about to get worse.

Next session we also might get to do our first version of ship combat using the rules I made which is kind of wild. I'm very nervous, but I feel like after this last session and sharing stuff I wrote with them (out loud!!!) I can handle it. Probably.

[a-soft-fluffy-girl]

TL;DR: Steam just made library sharing so much fucking easier and so much fucking better. Instead of login-trading, it's just a simple goddamn invite.

Read this. Really. It's a good read. Because it shows that, full-stop, Valve isn't just doubling down on their stance to make sure that people can and should be able to share their copies of digital goods as easily as they can physical ones, but they're making it better and easier than ever.

But you know how Steam allowed you to, with either friends or family, link accounts with another person to be able to establish an ability to share game libraries with one another? The general gist of Steam Family Sharing was that, with a limit of five people plus you (six in total) on a limit of ten computers total could share account access to willingly mix your libraries. You could play theirs. They could play yours.

This was a huge boon. It was meant to emulate sharing a physical copy of a game. A way to allow children to play games their parents or siblings had bought without having to fork over double the cash to buy it a second game. But it had some major limitations and drawbacks, and was archaic to use.

If a person did not share the same computer, you had to manually log into that computer to give it and the accounts on it access. This wouldn't be a problem if both accounts were used on the same computer, but many households (and astronomically more family and friend groups) had multiple computers, all used by different people.

If that computer, at any point, was hard reset to any point before the sharing occurred, you lost access. And had to do the whole process again. This was also an issue with computer transfers. The whole kit and kaboodle needed to be redone on upgrades. On top of that, the old computer is now just dead weight that you may not realize you have to manually revoke access to.

Putting your account information on another person's computer opens up security issues. They could, intentionally or accidentally, land themselves on your account if the login information was stored. Which could easily lead to purchases or bans you did not want to happen.

If anyone was, at any point, playing any game on their own library, you had no access to their games. Even if it was a totally different game, you had to wait your turn as if waiting for their computer to be freed up to sit at. (Admittedly this is kind of like the "mom said it's my turn on the xbox" meme, but hey, kinda archaic.)

You could not choose whose library you accessed a game from. Not at all. It always prioritized the first library it gained access from, DLC access and multiplayer be damned. If another friend you were accepting games from had more DLC? Too bad.

And yet here we are. Steam Families Beta fixes EVERYTHING about the above issues. By just going through Settings > Interface > client Beta Participation and clicking onto Steam Families Beta? You get:

No more login sharing. No more computer links. You can now choose which person's library you borrowed from. And you can play any other game from someone's library, even while they're in-game. It just needs to be a different game than what they're playing.

Pick five people. Invite them to your family. And now everyone has access to everyone's library. My goddamn library went from 150-ish to almost a goddamn thousand in ten minutes of setup.

Account sharing and password sharing are dirty words that "lose" billions of dollars. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Max. They aren't game storefronts, but they still allow you to access massive libraries and scream like you murdered their firstborns for daring to share your password with your mother after you moved out.

Microsoft tried pushing to demonize and undercut used games sales and borrowed copies of physical games. Remember the first attempt to reveal the Xbox One? People forget, but these vultures tried to make an always online console that checked to see if you were the account that owned the game, even if you had a physical disc, and prevent access to the disc's contents if you weren't the original downloader.

Valve walked the fuck up. Valve tapped the mic. And Valve dropped the fucking thing right onto the ground with one feature's revamp.

About the only issues I can see with this are twofold:

If someone sharing your library gets banned from a game's servers... so do you. No one else in the family does, but the both of you do. This is... rather unpleasant, because banhammers can be dropped quite frequently by mistake. I'd urge Valve to rethink this one, but I see the logic: don't cheat and effectively bite the hand feeding you. Still making me side-eye that, though.

If you leave a family you've joined? You have to wait a YEAR to join a new one. It's to prevent people form jumping ship to another group and screwing over who's in the former one in the process, but a YEAR? OUCH.

Problems aside, though... it's probably the biggest fucking power move I have ever seen a media distributor make in the current economic climate. It's the kind of thing that would let so many new games be available in a way that's easier than ever. Just a few clicks to send or accept an invite, and bam. Permanent access to dozens or even hundreds of new games with so much more freedom than earlier drafts of the system.

It's the kind of thing that slaps you in the face with positivity after so many Ls from the games and media industries. And I'm all the fuck for a W like this.

[fiercynn]

okay, if you have ever made or reblogged a “hold your nose and vote for biden” post, this is for you.

here’s the fucking thing about these kinds of posts. i've been seeing them since i first returned to tumblr in, I think, late 2022? they've certainly increased in frequency since october 7, but they were there before too, ready to counter any kind of opposition to biden that has cropped up. many of them are not just trying to educate people about what positive things biden has done, which, like, at least I can understand the motivation behind those ones? but so many of them are directly in response to people criticizing biden, and their only real point is “sure you’re upset at this thing biden did, but have you considered the election?” starting YEARS before the next presidential election, mind you.

and october 7 only made that clearer. i don’t think it had been a week before i saw these posts cropping up. can you not see how fucking ghoulish that is? to look at the rightful pain and anger of those whose relatives and communities are being slaughtered with active american support, to respond to one of the few pieces of agency most americans have in influencing what their governments do – their vote – by saying “yes but trump would be worse.” as if the primary people you’re lecturing – palestinians, muslims, arabs, black people, indigenous people, disabled people, other marginalized people – don’t remember exactly how bad it was under trump!

and even if you think not voting is an empty gesture – something i, who studied political science at a mainstream american lib college, who has worked as a field organizer on a previous democratic presidential campaign and for several policy campaigns, who currently works in public policy in america, used to believe, but have absolutely changed my mind on – what is in no way an empty gesture is saying publicly that you will not vote for someone. the arguments people usually have about why simply not voting is bad are that you can’t tell why someone is not voting, so it is as likely to be apathy or disenfranchisement as it is a political statement. but saying publicly that you will not vote for someone, and why you will not vote for them, absolutely is a political statement, and potentially a powerful one! but you choose to negate and/or ignore that by trotting out the “lesser of two evils” bullshit.

and then there’s the whole “yes but people will DIE under trump”. PEOPLE ARE DYING NOW. even if you’re fucking racist and have decided that palestinian lives don’t count, have you forgotten biden’s ongoing covid minimalism and dismantling of the CDC’s covid research and prevention infrastructure? have you forgotten his increase in spending for law enforcement scant years after the murder of george floyd and his administration's surveillance of protesters, including cop city protesters? have you forgotten his recent ramp-up in deportations of undocumented immigrants, including the active continuation of many trump-era policies?

maybe you have forgotten all those things and do purport to care about palestinians, but you just think that biden is doing his best to influence netanyahu and is getting nowhere! but then you must have forgotten all of the things that biden and his administration themselves have done to further this fucking genocide, including:

continuing to send arms to israel

putting together a military task force within days of yemen’s red sea blockade and attacking yemeni ships

bombing yemen

bombing syria

bombing iraq

vetoing three ceasefire resolutions at the united nations

testifying to defend israel and its genocide and occupation at the international court of justice

refusing to rescue palestinian-americans stuck in gaza

halting funding to the united nations relief and works agency for palestinian refugees (UNRWA) based on israeli claims that 12 of UNRWA’s over 30,000 staff were hamas agents, even though u.s. intelligence has not been able to independently verify this

lying that he’s personally seen photos of babies beheaded by hamas when he hadn’t because they didn’t exist (and even when his own staff cautioned him that reports of beheaded babies may not be credible)

questioning the number of palestinian deaths reported by the gaza ministry of health (when even israel has not questioned them, since they are in fact proud of those numbers)

perpetuating lies about hamas having committed the attack on al-aqsa hospital

questioning united nations reports of adults and children raped by israeli soldiers while claiming to have proof (that no one else has seen) of hamas doing the same

honestly so many more things that i can’t remember them all but others feel free to add

or maybe you haven’t forgotten any of that, and think that you’re still justified in lecturing people about why they should vote for biden, because you genuinely believe trump would still be worse. if that is the case, you have still failed to see that by saying you will vote for biden no matter what, you are part of the problem of biden continuing to act like this. because biden is counting on fear of trump to win him this next election no matter what else he does. despite his appalling polling numbers, despite the knowledge that he is losing the palestinian-american vote, the arab-american vote, the muslim-american vote, the black american vote, the youth vote – despite all of that, he is secure in the idea that he will still win because he is better than trump. can you not see how that allows him to act without impunity? how it becomes increasingly impossible for his base to influence what he’s doing if he thinks that they will be with him no matter what? this is how you make yourself complicit to biden’s actions, by not affording anyone even the slightest power to hold him accountable for anything.

and in most cases, the “hold your nose and vote for biden” thing is the response of people who aren’t even being instructed by others not to vote for biden. it is their response to people saying they themselves are choosing not to vote for biden. fucking ghoulish.

[deadsetobsessions]

Fae adjacent! Danny pt. 2

Timothy Drake hadn’t figured out what Danny Fenton was. The shop keeper had been kind, something the nine year old hadn’t expected when he walked into Danny’s shop, willing to trade away his name and soul to get Jason back.

As the young man tilted his head at Jason’s grave, something distinctly inhuman crossing his face as he smelt the soil, Tim had the slightest inkling that he didn’t want to know.

Tim, despite what most people would say, had some kind of self preservation instinct. He wouldn’t have survived traipsing after vigilantes in Gotham this long if he didn’t.

He did not want to find out what kind of creature Danny Fenton could be when enraged. (Despite the fear, something in Tim trilled in Danny presence. Safety, it said. Acceptance.)

——

Danny hummed. The soil here had been disturbed. The dead had not stayed dead. Danny smirked. He knew a bit about not staying dead.

“Your Jason isn’t here, little Sparrow.”

“What?”

“See the soil?”

The little sparrow- Tim- curiously looked down. Danny was sure the kid was smart and a few seconds later, he was proven right.

“The soul’s fresh. Overturned. Someone dug him up? No. An indent. No soil on the outside of the burial, it’s not square- he dug himself up?”

Danny sent the little sparrow an approving smile. “Well, Gotham was never known for its rule abiding citizens, dead or not.”

The little sparrow sighed. “Great. He’s a zombie now?”

“Not quite. Come, we will find your brother.”

“He's, uh, not my brother.”

Danny blinked, pausing. “You would give your name for someone who isn’t family?”

Tim flushed. “He’s- he’s my hero!”

"He'd better be thankful for this, then. What a good friend you are, little sparrow."

Tim lowered his voice, "He doesn't know I exist?”

Danny stared at him and wondered if Phantom ever had anyone who would give their names for him. He also wondered if the standard for human stupidity had lowered since he woke up.

“You see how that's worse, right?"

"Can we get this done, please? Preferably before Batman comes out at night?"

"There are worse things than the Bat, but yes, we may. This way."

As Danny led the way, following the scent of a newly retethered soul and trace amounts of what this world called Lazarus Pits, he found himself wondering who taught this kid his self preservation instincts because they needed to be fired. Tim had followed him, through shady alleys and darkened roads, without a thought for his own safety.

They reached the door of what clearly was a pixie den. Before Danny entered, he turned to Tim. "You, little sparrow, would be the first to be murdered in a poorly done horror movie. Now, stay here while I get Jason."

With that said and satisfaction taken from Tim's flabbergasted and insulted face, Danny headed inside the pixie den to collect the wayward soul.

——

"It's Danny!"

"Danny!"

The pixies in the room cheered as he walked in. Their teeth were a bit too sharp, ears a little too pointed, with shirts that did not fit quite right at their backs.

"Hey, guys." Danny strode to the room, following the scent of Jason's soul. "

"Ah, interested in our fresh catch?" One of the more... prolific pixies sidled up to him. "I think we'll make good entertainment of this boy yet. Maybe even the king would like a gift. His soul's pretty strong, mind's almost dead though."

Danny turned to the pixie and smiled. "I'm coming to collect on my contract, unfortunately."

The bar fell to complete silence. The mist and haze of the bar settled and drew back from the tinge of green in Danny's eyes. Oberon might have ruled his court but Danny's court was above even his.

"Oh- I. Yes, of course, please." The pixie stepped back hastily. Danny strode the rest of the way, content in the unnatural silence of the normally chatty pixies. He picked Jason up from the seat, frowning as he caught the scent of mind numbing herbal paste in the food in front of the kid.

"The children," he uttered commandingly. "Are off limits."

"But-!"

Danny clicked his tongue chidingly as he began leading the unsteady kid out the door.

"It isn't quite the days of old anymore, where people are aware of normal trickery. If an adult falls for your schemes, then that is on them. Children? No. To pick on a newly tethered soul is too far into my court for me to turn a blind eye."

"How are we supposed to do anything with the bat watching the skies?"

"Then fly below him," Danny drew his lips back, allowing Phantom to flicker onto his human face and warping it to something more inhuman. Like them.

"We understand," the bar's proprietor agreed. "Your word will be heard and heeded, king of another court."

"Much appreciated."

——

"Jason!"

"One second, little sparrow." Danny focused, drawing upon the chaotic magic that laid beneath the thrum of ectoplasm. He, oddly enough, has had enough practice returning memories to make this process as easy as a twist of his hand. Jason went limp.

"Jason!" Tim's cry had a little more panic in it.

"Worry not, he's simply sleeping. Regained memories tend to be quite taxing." He shuffled Jason a little closer to Tim. "Here you are, little sparrow. One Jason, whole and generally unharmed."

Tim glanced at Jason and then at himself. He sheepishly looked at Danny. "Would you mind helping me get him back home?"

Danny tilted his head back and laughed.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Really stupid au where when they were younger, Kakashi and Obito shared an accidental kiss a lot like Sasuke and Naruto. (Kakashi commits to his mask shortly after but will never not insist it's unrelated)

Years later and Kakashi, trying to cheer up Naruto and Sasuke ab their own embaressing accidental first kiss, shares his own story

Then, years later when Obito reveals himself on the battlefield, instead of going "woah, another Uchiha!?" when he hears his name, Naruto can't help but point and shout OH MY GOD UR THE GUY WHO KISSED SENSEI!!!!!!!!

Instant dead silence. (Obito wants to die)

Sakura, who never heard the story ab how it was a one time accidental kiss: "omg... sensei's childhood boyfriend went evil on him... this is so fucked up"

Obito is VIOLENTLY thrown off by this turn of events (and also hasn't actually thought ab it in years oh my god that did happen didn't it)

Kakashi, seeing how badly it threw him off, and also the kind of person who plays hard into throwing people off and generally fucking w them to gain an edge, seeing Sakura mumbling ab lovers to enemies and just kinda goes "Yeah Obito I can't believe you'd do this to me I thought we had smthn special."

"Yeah a rivalry????"

"So I was only ever a way for u to get stronger,, figures u were using me,,,"

[Confused Obito car crash noises]

Sakura yells smthn ab him being a deadbeat and how Kakashi can do so much better and Naruto is instantly shouting in agreement as Sasuke stands there like "hn." Which is basically the same thing for him

Kakashi just starts straight up lying actually

"What about all those picnics we went on... watching the sun set over konoha..."

"Are you talking about when Minato said we weren't allowed to come back inside till we stopped arguing and ate on opposite ends of the roof bc we couldn't even look at eachother without yelling???"

"It was so romantic."

Obito, starting to actually doubt himself, "was that a date????"

(It was not.)

"You died in my arms..."

"I died under a rock"

"We literally got eye married" (not a thing, he just made this up 3 seconds ago)

"We got WHAT" (no one can prove him wrong tho bc no surviving Uchiha knows that much ab their clans marriage traditions)

"Oh my god sensei's husband is a deadbeat" - sakura, horrified (and maybe a little delighted)

"Figures." -Sasuke, who's been in proximity w Obito for some time now and absoloutley believes every word ab this topic Kakashi is saying

"Woah. This is almost as bad as the fact he murdered my parents when I was a baby dattebayo" - Naruto who's priorities are NOT what they should be

"Ok. I wouldn't go that far." - Sasuke, who's priorities are also fucked but not THAT fucked, oh my god Naruto

"No, no he's right. We should kill him even harder for this" - Sakura, who doesn't actually agree but wants an excuse for more juicy sensei love drama (and also wants to see Obito beaten to death anyways)

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

[part two]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

[letorip]

somethin’ stupid

“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.

warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark

word count: 4.2k

A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.

===+++===

It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.

In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.

Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.

It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.

The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.

You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.

The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.

It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.

Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.

Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.

"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.

You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.

The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.

You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.

"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.

"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.

It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.

"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"

You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.

Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.

"Why are you yellow?"

You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."

"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.

You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"

Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.

Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.

"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"

"Ha. Ha."

As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.

It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.

From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.

"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."

"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."

"It's keeping you warm."

"I'm allergic to colours."

"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."

She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"

You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.

Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.

You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."

"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.

It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.

It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.

"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.

She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."

"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."

She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.

"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."

"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."

You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.

Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.

"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.

"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.

"What am I then?"

You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.

"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.

You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.

She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.

From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.

“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.

You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.

You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.

===+++===

"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.

"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.

She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.

Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.

From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.

“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“

“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.

She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”

"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.

"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.

"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"

"Why?"

"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"

"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."

She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"

"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."

"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.

“You’re being killed. By the beast.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”

“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.

“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”

You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”

“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”

“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”

“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”

You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”

“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.

“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.

“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."

"You're hurting me."

"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."

You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."

"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."

"Wednesday, I-"

"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.

"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.

===+++===

It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.

Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.

The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?

From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.

It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.

KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.

You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.

You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.

Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.

Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"

Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.

===+++===

a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.

[the-ancient-dragons]

The last Overcomplicated Pantalan tribe; LeafWings!

You know how it goes. I'm just me and Joy and Tui are awesome and amazing.

Details and explanation below.

Otherwise, next week is something new! You'll get to meet one of my fantribes >:)

More overcomplicated dragons.

With the LeafWing, I struggled to decide what approach to take. Should I do something closer to canon or go crazy and do 100% my go-to headcanon?

Because my go-to headcanon is that LeafWings should have four wings. I found it odd that they and SilkWings both come from Pyrrhia, but SilkWings (technically BeetleWings) were the only tribe that evolved four wings? I hesitated to even mention this in my HiveWing post because idk how popular this opinion is, but even the fact that Clearsight's arrival somehow split the BeetheWings into two WILDLY different tribes is astounding, with how long dragons live.

But that's not the point of this post. We're here for LeafWings and buckle up, it's a doozy.

So first of all, the reason I justified a four-winged LeafWing is to help it camouflage as a plant better. I'll eventually provide a sheet of this, but it would have two main defence modes, the first being a single-leaf version where they lie flat on the ground or stand still with their wings drooping, creating the silhouette of a single leaf, or a version where they hang on the end of a branch and hold their wings and tail out.

It isn't just their wings that creates this look. I took the original single sail and split it in two, based on the ribs of a draco lizard, and had them run along the sides of its neck. When spread, they are a part of the single-leaf camouflage and bridge the gap between the head and shoulders. They would also have more similar frills on their front and back legs in case they need to camouflage standing up. They could use this for hunting or hiding...

Continuing with the bug-avian beak mix, I referenced african parrot species and leafcutter ants. The highly altered head is based on horned frogs and leaf geckos, and I obviously based the colouration and patterning on leaf insects (though the lighting kind of hides it on the back of the head, lol). Last but not least, I wanted to preserve and enhance the leaf cell design Joy used for the scattered body scales (at least, I'm 90% sure it's for that purpose, it seems most obvious). So, like any sane human, I found photos of plant cells under microscopes and used the rectangular-ish shapes for the main body scales.

I had so much fun making this series. It seems like a lot of people enjoyed it as much as I did. I learned a lot about external anatomy and mixing different creatures to achieve unified designs.

School is doing its best to murder me (I can't do big pieces) so from now on I'll have to stick to loose sketches I can do in-class or doodle within an hour. But once we learn more about bones and muscles I'll be able to take a crack at analyzing the full bodies of some of the tribes. I'll go in whatever order I see fit.

In the meantime, I've got some Fantribes for you, starting next week! See you then!

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Three (of four)

masterpost

“Why would I ever need help from Victor?” Danny scrunched up his brow and puzzled aloud after his passenger got out. He didn't mean to be rude but he was genuinely confused. Vic seemed nice enough, but he was kinda delicate, wasn't he? He was scared of Batman. What for? He was just some guy who was so risk-averse that he wore a motorcycle helmet out in public. He probably held the world's record for diagnosed anxiety disorders or something. 

‘I’m lucky he's so reactive,’ Danny chided himself not to be ungrateful. ‘If he wasn't, like, hyper-vigilant I might have had to talk to Batman. Horrific.’

He shuddered at the thought. He had planned to work a little more, but Danny decided to go back home and rest for a bit. His nerves were a little shot after the excitement of the morning. 

Oh, right. He hadn't checked what his tip was yet. Danny unfolded the bills and his eyes bugged out. “This is fifty dollars,” he said incredulously. “He paid me fifty dollars to take him like 10 blocks, with a 50 block detour.” 

Was Victor, like, okay? Danny cast a dubious look back in his rearview mirror and caught the barest glance of Victor's ridiculously jacked form disappearing into one of the murder warehouses. What a guy. Why'd he do-

“He was hitting on me?” Danny's voice reached a whistle pitch. Ah! Ah!!! Holy shit. What the hell? His face burnt red and he floored it back to his apartment complex, trying to get his heart rate under control. 

It was so obvious in retrospect! The weird awkward pauses in conversation! The huge tips! Asking for his number! 

Danny pulled to a stop at a yellow light rather than run it explicitly so that he could bang his head against the steering wheel. 

“I don't even know if he's hot,” Danny wailed. Instantly he knew it was a lie. He didn't know what Victor’s face looked like. He didn't remember what the photo had looked like anymore and the information was long gone. But he knew that Victor was tall, fit as fuck, and had really nice hands. 

Danny bit his lip and howled sadly. It helped, a little. He stole a glance at the receipt with Victor's phone number on it. He couldn't help but memorize the number. 

“I'm not going to call,” Danny told himself. Even if it was flattering. Victor might be a sketchy guy! Only sketchy people were out at the hours Danny worked. Danny couldn't afford association with anyone like that because he needed the authorities to never ever look at him. 

Also, and probably more importantly: you can't go to medical school if you have any kind of criminal record. If Danny was going to be Doctor Fenton the fourth and be able to provide his and Ellie's medical care, he needed to be a model citizen. He couldn’t trust that Vic would keep him out of whatever weird shit he was involved in.

Well. It wasn't like he was complicit in anything. Danny parked his beloved shitty car in the garage and took the stairs up to his apartment. He opened the door, saw Batman in his kitchen, and closed the door.

“Fuck.” 

Danny turned intangible and dropped like a rock through the floors. He was back in the driver's seat in less than 5 seconds. He turned it on and called Victor with one hand, because he'd just gotten the guy's number and he didn't exactly know a lot of Gothamites. “Hey, what do I do if Batman is in my apartment?” He said as soon as it connected. He turned the car on and peeled out onto the street.

“Wha- move, I guess. Is he there for fucking real?” Victor's electronic voice somehow managed to come across incredulous. “You probably shouldn't go back there. You're in your car?” A horn honked in the background. “You're faster,” Victor said. His confidence gave Danny a little. “I'll send you my gps point. Come to me and we can strategize how to get him off your tail.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said, and violently repressed the part of him asking why this nervous ass Gothamite would know any better than he did. At least Victor was a local. His phone pinged and he opened up the address. “Got it.”

“See you soon.” Victor hung up. 

Danny burnt rubber out of there, heart all the way up in his throat. Why was Batman after him? What did he know? He gasped for air, feeling like he was choking. He needed to be normal. He needed to- to get his degree and get his career and never ever have a whole fucking militaristic brancho of the government after him. He was one guy. When he was 14 he'd thought it was a funny game and the GIW were a bunch of chumps. But they were a bunch of chumps with money, weapons, and numbers. He couldn't afford to fuck with them. The fact that his parents gritted their teeth through associating with the GIW was the only thing that kept suspicion off of Danny.

He cycled through a panic attack and then into anger. What the hell, dude? Danny got that Batman had a bee up his ass about metahumans “in his city” (like he fucking owned it??) but Danny wasn't causing crime or fighting it. He was going to classes and trying to survive. Batman had no right to get involved in his business. 

He was steaming mad by the time he pulled up to where Victor was waiting for him. Victor hauled open an old style garage door and ushered him in quickly. Danny parked inside and sighed over the steering wheel. It took a few moments to center himself and then he got out. “Hey.” He lifted a hand in greeting and then shoved it in his pocket, feeling unimaginably weary. It wasn't even 5 am, jeeze. What was his life? “Thanks for answering.” He cleared his throat and bumped his butt against the hood of his car. “Helluva morning,” he complained dryly.

“It's no problem.” Victor seemed a little stiff and uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the other parking space. Either that or he was posing. “It's not your fault.”

Danny let out a snort. “It's not, but what does that matter?” He shrugged. And then he realized- “Wait, do you know what I am- scratch that.” He made a hand gesture to wave that away. Victor had known what Amity Park was offhand and he'd had a chance to see Danny phase the car through solid matter. “I guess what matters more is why Batman is on my ass. D’you think he knows?” 

Victor looked at him for a long time. “No…” 

“No, what?” Danny narrowed his eyes up at the taller man. 

“I don't think Batman knows that you're…” Victor made a gesture at Danny that explained nothing. “Whatever you are. I think he wants to ask you what you know about me.”

Danny stared blankly at him. “About you,” he echoed. He gave Victor a dubious look. “Why would he care about you?” 

Victor lifted a gloved finger and pointed at his helmet as if that was supposed to mean something. Danny tilted his head to the side like a bird and raised one eyebrow. “Because I'm the Red Hood?” Victor said dubiously. “You know that, right?” 

“You're Victor,” Danny said. He furrowed his brows. “Is - is The Red Hood like, your drag persona or something? Cool for you but it's not really relevant -” 

Victor tore off the helmet to reveal a face that was a lot younger than Danny had anticipated. “It's not a drag persona,” he snapped. “It's- I'm the Red goddamn Hood! You have to have seen me on the news!” 

Danny mutely shook his head. He thought about saying that he didn’t watch the news, but he sort of felt bad for the guy. It was probably safer not to comment.

“It's been non-stop,” Victor said, and Danny could really tell how incredulous he felt without that goofy voice filter effect removing the pout from his voice. “I dropped 13 human heads off at the police station yesterday. Come on!” 

He blinked. 

Wait.

One.

Second.

“You had me take you to the police with contraband?” Danny roared, incandescent with fury. 

“Uh.” Victor looked a little shifty now, even with that dweeb ass mask covering from his eyebrows to his cheekbones. “Yeah, I guess-”

“I'm going to go to medical school!” Danny roared, and suplexed the bastard. Victor went down with a howl and a valiant attempt to dig out Danny's eye with his bent index and middle fingers. Danny went selectively intangible and rolled them both over to start slapping Victor on his stupid face. “I-” slap “can't” slap “have” slap “a criminal record!” He leaned so far forward that his lips were nearly touching Victor's. “Capiche?” Danny jabbed a finger into Victor's stupidly ripped chest. 

“Um.” 

“Capiche? Understand? Do you get my meaning?” Danny howled. “I am an illegal entity! My paperwork is suspect!” He dug his knees a little harder into Victor's sides, struggling to control his strength. 

“Hey man, me too,” said Victor. He seemed mildly surprised by this commonality. “That's why I can't get a driver's license.” He put his hands up by his head. The movement made his incredible biceps sort of…pulse. Bulge? 

Danny blinked, attention caught by something about what Victor had said. “How'd you get your Uber account verified without- oh my god!” He threw his hands up in disgust. “You're not even Victor, are you? Your first word to me was a lie?” 

Not-Victor laughed. Danny was surprised enough that he loosened his grip. But the other guy didn't try to get out. “You're fun,” he said. He had a nice smile, crooked and kissable. Oh, fuck.

Danny felt his whole face burn red. Shit. Abort. He scrambled up, suddenly mortified that he was sitting on the other guy. “What's your name?” he demanded, trying to sound unaffected and mean. 

“Jay.” 

“You're sure this time?” Danny managed to work up a little more indignation. 

“Hands to god, on my grave,” Jay promised. Danny sort of hated that he believed it. 

Danny relented. “Fine.” It wasn’t like he had any moral high ground to stand on about maintaining secret identities, if he was honest. He huffed and crossed his arms. “How do I get Batman off my ass? I'm guessing you don't want me to talk to him about you.”

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi (WC: 6.7k)

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

-

The first time you see Levi, whispered-about-thug and recently-enlisted Scout, you think he doesn’t seem as scary as everyone paints him to be. Sure, he has a hell of a glare, but that’s not the thing that sticks out.

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

How alone he looks, shadows like bruises under his eyes.

.

.

.

Levi is lost.

He’s not lost in the physical sense, of course.

Levi very well knows where he is. He has repeated these words to doctors so many times he’s starting to sound like a broken record: My name is Levi Ackerman. I come from Paradis Island. I live in Marley.

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

Rather, Levi is lost in the ways often described in novels. Those cheap-thrill books Erwin liked to read so much, the kind that ensured suspense and chest-clutching moments. Usually, it involved a character going on a journey and finding the thing they lost.

“It’s all a metaphor, you see?” Erwin once pointed out.

But Levi did not see the point of metaphors back then, and he certainly doesn’t get it now.

Levi was a soldier for most of his life: so that he could aid the fight against titans, so that Erwin’s vision to help humanity could come true, so that Hange would not be alone in shouldering the weight of it all, so that the world would not crumble under Eren’s actions.

Now, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, his body is changed, and his mind… well, that's the thing that’s lost, isn’t it? He’s still sane, he knows that, but… there's ways he feels himself slipping.

The first two years after the Rumbling were by far the hardest. There was so much to rebuild, so much to do. Levi spent most of his time in makeshift hospitals and infirmary tents. Then, there were the refugee camps. People who had lost everything, who were in search of a new home, but who lacked the means to do so (Levi never thought he’d have to witness the sight of starving children all over again).

And then, one day, a new start.

Onyankopon was the one who discovered Mare a year ago. He told Levi that it would be the perfect place to retire from his soldiering days. "Mare," Onyankopon said, "is the town where sky meets the sea."

Levi isn’t sure what to make of that idiom: there’s no such thing as a place where sky and sea connect. Another metaphor, perhaps—another thing that flies right above his head.

But he decided to take Onyankopon's proposal there and then; Levi had been idle for far too long, and there was still fire in him, a will to push on.

To keep going, just as he had in the past.

A month later, Levi moved into his new home.

His one-story cottage is located by the edge of town, overlooking a cliff that descends into sandy shores. It is far enough from the crowds, just the way Levi likes it, while still remaining close to all necessities—just ten minutes away from Onyankopon's home.

Aside from that, everything else is just… strangely ordinary.

Because Levi now has a roof over his head. He has a garden, where he grows herbs. A patio, where he watches sunsets. He gets money from Marley for his so-called war accomplishments (accomplishments is a strange word for murder, he thinks). He sees doctors, all kind of doctors—specialists that didn't exist back on Paradis.

What keeps him going through it all are his routines. Levi has always been a creature of habit, and that much hasn't changed in his new life.

There’s tea, for one. Despite all the special blends available here in Marley, Levi still prefers the tea he drank back in the Underground, made from cheap black tea leaves—over-extracted, with no added sugar. Piss water, Kenny used to call it, and maybe the old geezer had a point. The tea is bitter to its core, much too strong for anyone to stomach (“I’m going to be on the shitter for days after this,” Hange once declared after trying it.). And yet, Levi likes it this way. 

There’s his knife, the one Kenny gave him decades ago. Levi still keeps it in his boot or tucked under his pillow. He doesn’t hold it out of sentimentality per say; Levi just doesn’t see the point of throwing it away.

Levi sees his doctor on a weekly-basis, and works part-time at the local carpentry shop. He tries to improve his body on a daily basis, even if his mind fights him hard against it. His leg hurts most days; it’s at its worst when it rains. Over the last year, he’s regained some of his mobility, enough that he can sometimes walk using a cane when his legs aren't too stiff, though most days, he uses a wheelchair. It frustrates him, sometimes, his reduced range of mobility—he misses pushing his body to the limit—but the physiotherapist ensures him that he is just where he needs to be. He feels coddled, and that annoys him.

Then, there are the people in his life. Scarce as they are, they are all that is left of his past and Levi clings onto scraps of conversation where he can find them.

Most of the brats of the 104th are living their own lives. Levi is relieved to see that. When the war ended, he worried that they would linger too much, but they never did. They moved on.

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him about what they’ve been up to, how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place, and Levi listens. For Gabi and Flaco love to talk, and perhaps even more than that, they love to bicker. Levi thinks if there’s such a thing as religion, that these gods clearly have a strange sense of humor—making him watch teenagers and their clumsy flirting attempts all over again. But they’re good kids, and Levi looks past their worse transgressions because he knows he’s got a soft spot for them.

Onyankopon is another familiar face—a talkative one at that. Every time the man stops by Levi's house, he brings something new to show Levi. Sometimes, it feels like Onyankopon's on a personal mission to get Levi up to speed with the new world. Coffee, typewriters, vinyl players… there doesn’t seem to be a thing Onyankopon doesn’t want to show him.

All these machines are met with a somewhat lukewarm reception on Levi’s part.

All except one.

Because if there's one invention Levi is inclined to think is useful, even if a part of him equally loathes it, it's the telephone. Onyankopon was ecstatic about it, and his enthusiasm eventually rubbed off on him too. It's not that Levi likes to use it—the sound waves, the grated voices… they remind him of the sound of planes and machines, of war and guns, and that gets his heart palpating to the point where he sweats (because Levi’s learned that with his growing age, his body sweats faster than ever before, so much so that Levi sometimes has to wash twice a day).

But the first time Levi hears a familiar sound—your voice—on the receiving end of the telephone, his breath stops. His clammy fingers tighten around the phone, and he glances at Onyankopon, who only gives him a thumbs up in response, two dimples appearing on his lifted cheeks.

Levi decides then that the telephone might not be so bad after all.

“Levi,” your distorted voice sounds from the other side. “Can you hear me?”

At first, Levi doesn’t know what to say. He’s seen phones, of course; he remembers Hange using them to communicate with Zeke and the Azumito clan. But he never thought he’d use them personally, and that makes his brain go blank.

“Shit, I think I lost you,” you say, the sound of crumbled papers resonating across the line, “Jean, I think the tele-thing you gave me isn’t working properly. Can you—”

“Hey.” Levi’s voice bleeds into the machine, rough like sandpaper. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I wasn’t using this correctly. Gee, isn’t this just unbelievable? Onyankopon promised me he’d work to set up a phone line in your house, I’m so glad it worked! I know these things are costly but, you know, at least we get to talk, even if it’s brief. Of course, I’ll still write you letters on top of that! And hey—Levi, are you still with me?”

He almost smiles. “Yeah, dumbass. You’re the one going on a monologue.”

“I’m just excited! Can you blame me? I haven’t heard your voice in… a long time.”

Levi’s heart jolts in his chest, clinging to the fact that you’re excited to hear him, but mourning the time passed since he last heard your voice. He’s all aware of how long it’s been (347 days, by his account).

“I can’t wait to see you next month,” you add in a lower voice, as if you were trying to whisper into the phone, words only meant for him to hear. It makes them all the more precious. “I’ve… missed you, 'Vi.”

Levi’s throat feels thick at he hears your familiar nickname for him. His mind buzzes with words, words he has long thought about, words he wishes he could tell you.

I’ve missed you too. I want to see you again. Please come back to me.

All things he thinks to himself, but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, he manages a breathy, “Yeah,” because more feels impossible right now, especially with Onkyankopon so close by.

Besides, he wouldn’t want you to hear those words over a machine. Communication tool or not, it still lacks the physicality Levi desires so badly.

“How are the brats doing?” Levi asks instead.

“Oh, they’re good! Armin cut his hair recently. He looks like a blonde mini-you or err… I suppose he’s taller than you now.” If you were standing by his side, Levi would definitely have glared at you. But you chuckle, oblivious to his souring mood. “Guess he always did admire you a lot; I think he’s learned a thing or two from your leadership style.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Doesn’t glare at everything that moves like you, though.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t lost your shitty sense of humor, I see.”

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

“But you always found me funny—I could always tell.”

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

“Anyway.” You huff with an indignant tone. “Aside from that, Reiner and Connie have changed a lot too! Reiner is still pining over Historia…”

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

“Yeah… weird, right? I keep telling him to move on, he’s got so much going for him now. But he’s hopeless like that, they all are. Besides that… well, Jean grew his hair! Think he’s secretly trying to impress someone. He’s applying pomade and everything.”

He hears the sound of muffled protest, “I am not, Doc,” blending with your sentence. It is followed by your hearty laugh as you seemingly tell Jean to bugger off.

“That aside, they’re all good. Growing into real adults, you know? It feels like yesterday I was doing their first medical checks... just stupid teenagers. Your old Levi squad, huh?”

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

“Yeah, sounds like they’re still a real handful,” Levi mutters.

You chuckle. A comfortable silence follows, one that reminds of old times—you and him sitting in front of the fireplace; him reading his reports, you drawing. The cracking of the phone lines almost sounds like splitting logs now, and Levi feels warmth spread from his lower belly to his torso.

He hears your breath through the phone, like you were leaning closer. “Hey, so… less than a month, yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

“Because if it’s too much, you can still say no.”

“Adler, I promised I’d take care of you all, and that’s gonna be the case until I’m buried below ground.”

“Don’t speak like that, Levi! It’s morbid.” Levi hears the sound of your laughter again, ringing across the phone line. He wonders if your eyelids are crinkling, the way they always do when you laugh too loudly. “But, hey, thanks. I really appreciate your help, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder what it is like, your new life.”

“S’nothing special.”

“Sounds to me like you’re still selling yourself short.”

“And sounds like you’re still talking nonsense.”

After a year of not seeing each other, you are finally coming back to Marley.

You are finally coming back to him.

Levi wonders what you will think of all the ways he’s lost.

.

.

.

Section Commander Erwin Smith seeks you out in the infirmary. Says there’s a wound he wants you to check, one he supposedly got during the last expedition.

You don’t tell him that titans don't usually cause hand wounds.

“I have the new recruit’s file here. You might have seen him around. His name is Levi,” Erwin says after some time. You give him a succinct nod. “I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”

You pause, eyes shifting away from your stitches. Erwin’s gaze is even, clear.

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

Erwin leans back in his chair. “Presently, Levi is flighty and hot-headed. He’s just lost his friends. And he refuses to get a medical check. As it stands, this won’t work—I need to know that his condition is stable to place him on my squad.”

“With all due respect, most of these duties you’ve listed fall outside my medical jurisdiction.”

“I know.”

You raise a brow. Erwin shoots you an eyeless smile. You finish the stitch. Erwin pulls his hand back, admiring your work, then his focus shifts back onto you.

Waiting on your answer.

You finally supply him with one, sighing, “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

Erwin stands, interlinking his arms behind his back. “I should tell you he’s from the Underground. Will that be a problem?”

“No, sir." You stand up as well. "Though… knowing this, permission to speak my mind?”

“Please.”

“May I ask what’s so… special about him? If rumors are to be believed, you went through quite the trouble to get him.”

“I didn’t think you listened to gossip, Dr Adler.”

“I don’t. But if that wound on your hand speaks for the labors of your efforts… well, I think I have cause to worry.”

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. It is followed by the type of smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “I want to believe Levi can change the fate of humanity.”

.

.

.

Today is the day.

The morning shines brightly over the little town of Mare, an endless cerulean that speaks of summer and new beginnings. The sun peaks over the horizon, lingering where the sky meets the sea, a ripple of lavender and peach glimmering over the reflection of the water.

At this time of the day, the wind is at its strongest, a breeze that blows the long strands of grass to one side. Beyond the valleys, there's footsteps dotted across white beaches, only to be ushered out of existence as the waves rolls in.

Mare. Home.

This little town was nothing but fire and dust three years ago. Today, everything has changed. Houses have been rebuilt, trees replanted, and life has begun sprouting again.

Levi wonders what you will make of it.

He spent the first hours of the day cleaning his one-story house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking for him, nowadays. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt.

But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready; he’s now come to drive Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

Levi grabs his favorite cane, an elegant stick made of thick wood from up north. For the occasion, he’s wearing his nicest navy suit, silver cuff-links, and a matching hat—a gift from you, something you bought him the day the Survey Corps first set foot in Marley. You thought it suited him and Levi’s inclined to agree: he doesn’t look half-bad.

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi vehemently denies. His friend just smiles after that with a knowing look like he knows better, but beyond that, he leaves Levi space to gather his thoughts.

Levi is glad of that. He needs the silence to gather his thoughts.

After a year of not seeing each other, he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely.

Will you be happy to see him?

It’s ridiculous, really, all this uncertainty. In all his years as a captain, Levi never stopped to linger on hesitations, on regrets. No matter what it was—grief, rough expeditions, political coups—he trusted Erwin; he trusted his comrades. Levi trusted himself.

That it would be you, now of all times, who makes him this nervous, seems a strange twist of fate. Perhaps it is his growing age that has turned him into a sentimental fool, perhaps it is the knowledge that it is you, perhaps it’s because Levi doesn’t quite know what to do with himself... but Levi feels restless.

It took Levi by surprise, your letter. Three months ago to the day. Can I stay with you, Levi? you'd written. Just for a little while, until I figure out what it is I want to do next.

You were gone for a year, helping the Alliance become delegates of peace, while still updating Levi on everything. Now, Armin and the rest are ambassadors, and Levi no longer needs you letters—he gets to read all about their exploits in the newspaper.

And yet, he's glad you never stopped writing to him. Levi will never admit it, but he’s kept every single one of your letters in a box under his bed.

Yeah, old age has turned him into a real sap.

Following all of this, it was decided: of course you could stay with him. Yes, he would help you. When it came to you, there was little Levi wasn’t prepared to do.

With Falco’s and Gabi’s help, Levi made sure everything was well-suited for your arrival. He purchased a bed, a night table, and a wardrobe. He built you a desk, with the help of his boss at work. All of it was arranged into the spare bedroom of his house.

Levi remembers Gabi teasing him. “Is she your sweetheart, Mr Levi?”

Levi scowled at the teenager. “No.”

“S’just, it’s an awful lot for an old comrade.”

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

But Gabi raised a point. What were you to him, exactly?

Levi doesn’t know the answer to that question, not exactly. He considers all the people he’s cared about in his life, and he still falls short in finding the right word to describe what you are. He cares for you, that much he knows—he’s cared for you for a long time. It isn’t the same care that he feels when he thinks of his mother, of Isabel, of Furlan, but it’s just as deep. Love, some might call it, but Levi has seldom witnessed it, so he doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

He supposes if he had to label what the two of you are, it’s connected. Remnants of an old system, a memory of a past when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls. Two survivors who carry the legacy of those who sacrificed themselves for the cause.

Not that defining it truly matters. Levi’s long accepted his role as the one to carry the torch. He has found stability and peace this way.

Only, Levi wants more for you. Even if it means being far away from him.

Yes, it will have to mean being far from him, won’t it? He’s too broken for it to be any other way. He knows that. And yet, it doesn’t stop that tiny wisp of something he sometimes feels in his heart at the thought of you—like air, it fills his lungs, begging to be ignited (if you would choose him, he thinks it might).

But Levi’s life was always that of water, and he knows he will drown you if you come too close, like everyone else he has cared about.

.

.

.

You glance at the injury on his forearm, gushing red. Those damn cadets, ganging up on the new recruit. Erwin’s gamble won’t pay off if everyone else is hostile to his new prodigy.

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours and you realize it's the first time you're up to close to him. His eyes are striking. Freezing gray, like pale moonlight.

“Who the hell are you?” he mutters with a deep baritone.

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain, just come to me, alright? I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, or if you have to drag yourself across snow. Because... the only death I accept from a Survey Corps soldier is that of titans. Anything else is unacceptable. Okay?”

"Please. Those cowards were outclassed. They only landed a hit 'cause they played dirty."

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help," you say. "That said, you have my word.  Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi glances at your hands for some reason— transfixed by the way you press on his wound with a clean cloth. “So, what, you’re a doctor? You heal people?”

Your lips tug into a half-smile. “I certainly try.”

.

.

.

The train groans as it comes to a stop. Levi knows you dislike trains; even on Paradis, when Hizuru helped to install train tracks across the island, you had blanched at the idea of riding in one.

So Levi isn’t too surprised to see you step out of the train carriage on wobbly feet, your face a little grayer than he remembers it to be. He takes a step forward, walking into the smoke hissing from the train, avoiding the throngs of travelers passing by. He removes his hat, just to make it easier for you to recognize him.

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

Levi could see your smile for the rest of his life and never tire of it. He hasn’t seen it in a long time, and it tugs at his heart, like a bird flapping its wings.

That you choose to run towards him—your travel bag swinging against your hip, arms dangling by your sides—is no great surprise. If there is something he knows about you, it is your never ending supply of excitement. It makes him want to smile back, but his mouth slightly parts instead.

“Levi,” is the first word that greets him, that swirls through the air and fills his lungs. You seem to catch yourself just a breath away from him, rooted to the spot in front of him. Levi blinks, wondering if you were about to hug him. But then you dip your head down, coy amusement on your features. “It’s really you.”

Levi swallows loudly. He can hear his heartbeat climbing to his head, and he wonders if you somehow can hear it too.

“Your hair has grown.”

Oh, that.

Yes, his hair has grown, hasn’t it? In the last month, he’s only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow.

“It looks good… it suits you,” you tell him.

The coil in Levi’s stomach tightens. He shields his expression by tilting his head and placing his hat back on his head. 

“Hey, um…” you let your voice trail off.

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

His peripheral catches a crooked smile. “Would it be alright if…if I hugged you?”

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, Levi feared there might be something wrong with you, or rather with him. But he didn't expect… that.

In his stupor, Levi is too stunned to say anything, so he manages a nod instead.

(He’s grateful you ask before you touch him—you always ask.)

And unlike your earlier display of excitement, full of frenetic energy, your hands treat him with more care. They interlace gently around his back. Levi feels his chest lock as your fragrance sweeps across his brain. The scent can only be described as one thing... Home. Levi grows stiff, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he just lets them dangle along his body. You stay put just for a few seconds longer, and when you break apart, there’s something akin to relief on your face.

Relief for what, he doesn't know.

Your hands linger on his forearms as you take the sight of him fully in like you were committing him to memory. “Just needed to do that. My brain can’t make sense of the fact that you’re really standing in front of me. Like you’re not a figment of my imagination, you know?”

Levi’s gut reaction is to glance down. He doesn’t want to see all the ways you inspect him, all the ways he falls short of the portrait you have of him.

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself from disappointment.

“C’mon,” he mutters. “We’ve been standing here long enough.”

“Alright,” you answer in a tone that’s no less bubbly than before. “Show me home.”

As you walk in tandem, away from the train tracks, Onyankopon comes to greet you. He envelops you into a hug where he lifts you off your feet. You chuckle, patting his shoulders, and when Onyankopon’s eyes find Levi’s, there’s a glint in them that Levi swears is speaking volumes of Onyankopon’s thoughts.

A look that seems to indicate: Should’ve kissed her, you damn fool.

Levi promptly ignores that look. Instead, he sets his glare in an altogether different direction.

The walk back towards the car is painful and slow. Levi tries not to let it show, but coming with his cane instead of his wheelchair really was not his brightest idea. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation shooting up in his leg; his knuckles turn white the more he leans on his cane.

You take notice.

“Is your leg hurting?” he hears you ask.

Levi dismisses your concern with a one shoulder shrug. “S’fine.”

It’s not fine. Levi overexerted himself with cleaning today. The sun is too strong. His leg is stiff.

Despite that, Levi has no intentions of telling you all about that, because you have a tendency to care, to shower him with attention he doesn’t want, and right now, he just can’t deal with it.

You stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you sure? I can—”

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

Levi's ears are ringing as he steps past you.

Shit, shit, shit. He didn’t mean to snap at you just now. He’s just no good at this, don’t you see? Already five minutes in, and he feels like he fucked up.

(It's like there's poison on his skin; Levi wants to peel it off.)

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind, as you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead, allowing Levi to swallow his shame. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as you purchase three lemonade bottles, which you hand out to them.

The drive back is filled with more words than the journey here. Onyankopon and you engage in easy conversation, talking about all manners of things—how the 104th brats are doing, how the world is looking three years after everything that transpired, how Onyankopon’s husband and family are faring.

Levi sits in the passenger seat next to Onyankopon while you sit in the rear. That doesn’t stop you from leaning forward, your hands resting on the head of the seats as you talk (“Put your seat belt on, Adler.” “It’s on!”). Occasionally, your fingers even tap his left shoulder, a heads up for you to point to interesting things you notice outside. Levi tries to ignore the sparking sensation that’s engraved in his skin.

(Sometimes, Levi wonders if your touch is actually electric.)

“What about you, Levi?” Levi feels your attention settle on the back of his head, drilling heat into his nape. “What do you make of your new home? Mare, the town where the sky meets the sea.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. And he means it—the town is just that. Fine. “The townsfolk are nosy, you’ll fit right in.”

You hum. “Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.”

New life. Is it really?

“I’ve never started over. Not like this,” you continue, tone thoughtful now. “I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

“That’s because you were a suicidal maniac, enrolling to save the lives of soldiers who’d soon be titan fodder. Normal civilians usually have safer aspirations, Adler.”

“I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, Ackerman.”

Levi huffs at that. The portrait that flashes through his mind is vivid, as were the words that went alongside them: Him, the gangster from the Underground and you, the crazy doctor crazy. A pair of strange misfits, the Survey Corps' gamble.

Now, you are the only survivors of something long gone.

“Oh, Walls!” You’re gasping at something behind him, and Levi glances up to see what you’ve seen. It’s the sea—all shades of blue and as mesmerizing as ever. “This is where you’ve been living? Your descriptions in your letters do not do this place justice.”

“What? You expected me to turn into a poet?” Levi grumbles.

“No, but look at this—ugh! It’s everything. The valleys! The beaches! The bay! This feels just like…” you let your voice trail off, not finishing off your words, but Levi knows what you meant to say.

This feels just like the way it was when we first saw the sea.

And yeah, Levi sees your point. The sea here truly does glimmer like jewels, the way Armin always described it, and the breeze does carry that scent of salt that feels like it’s cleaning the air out of his lungs.

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

“This must be what paradise looks like,” you say.

And just as they pass a curve of the road, something new comes into view: between the soft clouds, a flying boat appears—not one carrying weapons, but instead, carrying with it the tale of a youth whose only sin was a passion for flying.

.

.

.

The medical check is done in silence.

Levi is underweight. His lack of sun exposure has left his skin and eyesight sensitive. You prescribe things to help, though you think some ailments might be a lifelong battle.

When it comes to checking his heart rate, however, that’s when you realize the full extent of Levi’s upbringing. Levi undoes his shirt and your eyes take in the cost of his survival—Levi’s torso, marred with scars. Some of them seem recent, while others are old, stretched-out skin that tells you enough.

These come straight from his childhood.

Just how much violence has Levi witnessed in a single lifetime?

.

.

.

“So?” Levi asks, looking directly at you. He leans his weight against the door’s frame leading to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can redecorate if you like.”

“Why would I do that? This is perfect.”

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated, especially with his mind trying hard to convince him that all you see is disgust when you look at him.

You continue to step around the furniture of your bedroom, inspecting it like you are discovering details of a new kingdom. Your fingers fumble over the bed frame. “These bed sheets are my favorite color.”

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

“There’s drawing supplies in the desk drawers,” he supplies.

He hears it then, the way you suck-in your breath, catching it in the back of your throat. He swerves his attention onto you, only to find you fixing the desk with a stupefied expression.

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

Why do you seem surprised? Isn’t this the least you deserve? Levi almost says that there is even more—that he has all your sketchbooks from Paradis, that they were recently delivered by his request. But he abstains from it. He thinks it might be too much right now, though whether it’s too much for him or for you, he’s not sure.

Instead, he just replies gruffly, “It was hard to forget.”

You take a step towards him, eyes softening. “Levi, thank you so much.” You gesture at the room. “For all of it.”

Somehow, those words make Levi want to look away. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate you expressing your gratitude, but he’s never known what to do with it served on a silver platter. He prefers to ignore it when he can.

“S’not a big deal.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing towards the carpet on the floor. “Couldn’t let you starve on the streets, now, could I?”

“Hah. I don’t know.” You move to the windows, your fingers winding around the beige curtains. Levi wonders what you think of the softness of the material. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

“Please. You wouldn’t last a day out there.”

You scoff, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“You’d want to help some poor fucker giving you puppy eyes, and they’d just end up mugging you.” Or worse.

“Well, alright. You got me there.” You glance away, raising your fingers to run along the scar on your cheek.

Levi follows your movements, studying the way your hands conceal your old injury. He wonders if it still hurts, if you forget it is there only to be reminded of its existence when you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The softness of your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

“No need to get emotional on me,” he mumbles.

You chuckle. “Still. Sometimes, it’s good to say things out loud.”

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door to swing it open.

But just as he’s about to head out, to leave you to unpack, there's a clear sound comes from the other side. Levi hears that familiar "Meow," before he sees the tabby cat sliding in between the cracks of the door.

“Oh... what's this?” he hears you stutter behind him. 

Right. Levi probably should have mentioned this minor detail in his letters.

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve. Three months ago, the cat was nothing more than skin and bones. Like a rat. Now, she’s healthy again, her limbs growing quicker than Levi anticipated.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Clearly."

"Like a pet?"

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, tapping a rhythmic beat of five counts against his forearm. “Do you need to get your eyes checked or what?”

You ignore his surly attitude, the same bafflement still present in your tone. “And you named him Scout?”

“Her. She's a female cat.”

You look down at the cat for a moment, your eyes wide like saucers. Then, with a low, hushed tone, you let out a strangled, “Walls, you're a cat dad,” before pinching your lips tightly, like you were trying very hard not to burst out in fits of giggles.

Levi’s jaw instantly clenches. “Stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

“Yeah, alright, I was about to.” And then, as if saying those words out loud gave you the right to do as you please, you stifle out a snort, shooting up a hand to cover your half-contained laughter.

This time, Levi doesn’t bother hiding his glare.

Paying this interaction no mind, Scout looks at you with a quizzical stare, her big, green eyes taking you in. Just like you, the feline creature is now discovering the new room and the furniture that goes with it, and she now seems to want to understand what to make of the new occupant that is to share this space.

And so, with a last parting mrrp, the cat skitters towards you, her fast steps tiptoeing against the oaken floor. In response, you crouch down, outstretching a delicate hand in Scout's direction.

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement.

Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digits.

A smile forms on your lips.

And when you look back up, there’s a sparkle in your eyes that makes Levi’s heart skip a beat. "Oh, she's cute," you coo, scratching Scout's chin. "How old is she?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"Oh, right. She didn't have an owner?"

"No. She was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

Levi had found the kitten half-dead under some debris; no one in town knew where she had come from, or how old she was. Most likely, her mother had abandoned her, but it was hard to know for sure.

All he knew is that the kitten had been alone, and that was enough for him to want to help the kitten. Taking her in was only meant to be temporary thing.

And yet, here she still was.

"Well," you interrupt his thoughts, head tilting as you inspect Scout, "I reckon she can't be more than four months old."

Levi lets out a grunting sound, not really knowing enough about cats to refute or agree with your observations. Instead, he half-turns away, grumbling parting words, “I’m gonna make us some tea while you unpack.”

His peripheral catches your hand gently gliding along the cat’s spine. “Your bitter old tea, huh?”

He means to ask if you’d prefer something else, but it comes out all wrong: “Got a problem with that?”

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens.

“Not at all. It just feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat and turns away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

And he’s not the same man you once knew.

-

A/N: This story has been in the works for the last year, and it's been a very precious project for me. This fic seeks to shed some light on Levi's life after the war, with its ups and down - but ultimately, it's a story of love and healing <3 Furthermore, English isn't my mother tongue, so you know the spiel - don't hesitate to let me know if you spot mistakes, but pls be patient!

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[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING BASED OFF OF THIS

THIS IS 'RED'

SO ENJOY.

-

You didn't have hair like Jean. Or that fiery look in your eyes. Your skin wasn't smooth, and you were full of flaws only Logan refused to see. You weren't used to being second. Of course, you had been second for tests in the mansion or second in the bonding activities. Professor x encouraged everyone to play despite their exhausted groans, and you've played video games where you've come second to Ororo or Scott.

But never had you thought you'd be second to Logan.

There were people who had warned you. That Logan was not ready for another relationship. But you refused to see the signs in his struggles, and despite all that you had heard of the love he had for Jean, you still loved him.

Now, sitting out in the grass crying to the sound of the crickets, you regretted your decision to love another chance. He swore up and down, left and right, that he didn't love her anymore.

But a blind man could see it. A deaf woman could hear it. And a fool could do both with ease.

You were-are-a fool for Logan. You were a massive fool for him, and you had been since you played eyes on him. Every night you'd go to bed dreaming of him and every morning you dressed to impress him and get his adoration. But no matter what you did, he still looked at Jean and soon you began to lose the hope you once had.

And every night as you dreamed of him, he was dreaming of her.

-

"YOU THINK IM SOME KIND OF FOOL?!" You spat, pointing sharply at Logan.

Defensively, he scowled and slammed his hands down on the dining table, Chittering the plates and forks.

"WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?!" His voice boomed in the walls of the house.

"WITH ME?!" You exclaimed, your lip quivering. "YOU ARE THE PROBLEM LOGAN!"

He threw his hands by his head acting defeated. "Yeah, right, because it's never your fault, is it?" He scoffed.

Never my fault. Right. But when he woke up one night and stabbed me because he thought I had kidnapped Jean, that was my fault. When he wakes up to breakfast in the morning but it Wasn't Jean that had cooked it. That's also my fault.

It's always my fault

"NOT MY FAULT? WHEN IS IT NOT MY FAULT LOGAN?! YOU ALWAYS MAKE IT MY FAULT. WHY ARE YOU SO AFRAID TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY?!" You howled like a grieving wife.

To an outsider, it may have looked like you were screaming blue murder, weeping to the man who killed your lover. And you might have said to certain extent, the outsider is right.

"You were never there for me! Not once!"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. After the months and months of longing and weeping, long nights of screaming and horror within you, moments when you couldn't bear to be without Logan and moments when you didn't even want to think of him. Some nights spent holding him while he sobbed her name. Hers

"Fuck you logan" you spat venom "I tried to be there for you I really did. I really fucking tried. But you are a coward. You refused to let me help you and when you asked me for help it was always for me to put on her perfume"

You almost threw up. Gripping the wood of the table as you leant on it, wood chips splintering your nails felt softer than loving Logan.

"You are so selfish!" He boomed."You are a pathetic, cowardly woman! All I want is your help!"

You slowly got off the table, with all your strength you walked for the door. "Oh your gonna leave now?!" Logan hissed

You turnt to face him. "I was really hoping I would see the best in you logan, I was really hoping that one day we could have had a family, and loved them as our own. Now I see that if we had children, while I loved them as ours, you'd loved them as yours and jean's, and I can't have that. I can't live like this. Goodbye logan. I hope I made loving me worth your time"