#made me feel less foolish for wanting the same. i always wonder if there's something wrong with me for how deeply i want to extend my trips

[asiananeurysm]

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[risuola]

I DON'T NEED MISTLETOE TO KISS YOU — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who doesn’t exactly agree with your human traditions

It is the first Christmas party Sukuna ever went to and it��s really safe to say that most of the traditions are surreal, borderline absurd to him. Especially the one with the hanging weed…? A mistletoe? You couldn’t be serious when telling him that if he wants to kiss you, he needs to find himself underneath it with you.

cw: fluffy, suggestive?, lot's of kissing (duh), Sukuna has his own body and he's a grumpy old man — 2,5k words

kissmas masterlist

There is a certain amount of respect Sukuna has grown to expect from people around him ever since he’s got a body of a human. Even though now somewhat mortal, he’s still a king of curses and that alone is enough of a reason to assume that he deserves some honors. You, of course, as his partner, are allowed to respect him a little less, but as Ryomen was sitting on the couch in the apartment you share, wearing the absolute atrocity that you called a Christmas sweater and listening to your rambling about a weird weed he wondered if it could still classify as “a little less”.

And it was a fact that you looked quite pretty in the little sweater-skirt combo you wore, the high socks made your thighs look absolutely delicious and the white, fluffy edges from the Santa hat you had on your head made you look almost too cute for your own good, but he wouldn’t be mad if you just shut up.

“Ryomen, are you even listening?” You whined, pointing a finger of accusation in his direction and, again, looking too adorable for your own safety with the pout your lower lip formed. It took the greatest art of control to not kiss it off your face immediately.

“No, honestly, not really,” he replied and it should touch him, the way you groaned upset, but at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh-so-sweet at the moment. So sweet, in fact, that he’d gladly eat you.

“I was trying to get you into the Christmas spirit and you are ignoring me,” and you were pouting even more. Great. “It’s our first holidays together and it’s your first Christmas party in this era, you could pay me a little more attention.”

“No, I’m paying you all of my attention,” he retorted quickly, his eyes slowly scanning your figure from the tip of your head, down to your feet and back up. “I just tend to lose my interest when I hear something foolish.”

If you wouldn’t know the ex-curse well enough, you’d probably feel insulted, but thanks to the many months you’ve already spent with him, you know it’s just his way of expressing his thoughts. It made you sigh deeply.

“You are a human now, you know? You could indulge a little into our foolish traditions.”

“I am wearing this atrocity, am I not?” Sukuna scoffed, getting up and catching you quicker than you managed to run away from him. His strong, long arms wrapped around you, enclosing you in the warm embrace of his chest. “I admit, the human traditions were always below me. Even in my era, I never truly participated in whatever people were doing, but what you’re now telling me sounds straight up absurd to me. I mean, this… whatever the fuck that is. Weed thing with kissing?”

“It’s a mistletoe!”

“It’s preposterous,” he snapped quite softly, one of his hands sliding down your back and onto your ass. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you and you have my word that I will snap the neck of anyone who dares to use this tradition to touch you.”

“You will not snap anyone’s neck, Sukuna Ryomen,” you warned, poking his chest with one of your prettily manicured fingers, the one on which you wear a ring he gifted you not too long ago – golden band with dark red diamonds embedded into the metal, the stones being a perfect representation of a color of his eyes. It was a warning, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “And during the party you will look for the mistletoe, otherwise you’re not allowed to kiss me.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

And you were, to Sukuna’s greatest dismay, in fact avoiding his kisses as the evening went by. The party at Gojo’s apartment was annoying, but not nearly as much as the fact that you were just so damn stubborn. But you looked so pretty, all smiley and so open, he was willing to push through it all just to see your face twisted in so much happiness. It is, after all, only for you that he even agreed to come and surround himself with the celebrative aura that he had no will to understand. It was enough for him that you enjoyed it.

The apartment had been festively decorated for the holidays. Filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights that were scattered throughout the space, hanging from the walls and even wrapping around the legs of some of the furniture, along with the rows of ribbons and tinsel. A Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with sparkling ornaments and colorful lights, a large star on top of it. The party was already in full swing and the laughter and cheers of the guests warmed up the air, together with yummy smells of homemade treats, hot chocolate and mulled wine, the merriment adding to the festive magic. Everybody was chatting with one another, enjoying themselves and sharing stories, catching up on the holiday season, cherishing the time.

The music was playing softly in the background, the holiday hits spreading its warm melodies throughout the entire apartment, but in the midst of all the holiday cheer Sukuna’s attention was drawn to you. He watched you laughing and chatting with other guests, with people that usually he would hate but for you he forced himself to tolerate. He observed you mesmerized by your beauty, the way you moved, and though he had seen you countless times before, yet somehow it still never ceased to take his breath away. His eyes drank every detail of you, from the way your eyes sparkled just as brightly as the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree to your bright smile, the soft and subtle curve your lips had on all the time during the evening. He admired the way the few stray strands of hair had fallen from your hairdo and he could have sworn they were just for him to push back behind your ear. The cozy sweater you wore that though he deemed as atrocious, he couldn’t deny its vibrant colors made your skin tone pop. You were a sight to behold, an angel he knew he never deserved and yet, you were his. And yet, some of these beautiful smiles you aimed at him, and your hands searched for his, not caring at all about how much red and sorrow his skin had soaked during his lifetime.

“You’re not enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your soft, sweet voice poured into Sukuna’s mind, pulling him out the trail of thoughts and admiration.

“I couldn’t possibly care less about the Christmas spirit,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sat down next to him on one of the sofas. Out of habit he leaned in to have a taste of your lips when you put a finger on top of his own. “What the fu—”

“Mistletoe, remember?” You grinned, a playful tease apparent in your voice.

“I already told you that I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you, did I not?”

“You did but I also told you that you will need one during the Christmas party, didn’t I?” Your retort was both funny to him and annoying and if it wasn’t for you, he would have already snapped. There was a thin layer of patience Sukuna had and you were poking through this layer constantly, pushing his buttons and pulling on his nerves. He was ready to say something less than polite, when you spoke again, “please, ‘kuna, just for this night,” and the pout that your lips formed made it just that much harder for him to not kiss it away.

Ryomen found it comedic, really. He was considered the strongest of them all, the King of Curses feared for hundreds of years and yet when he was with you, he felt like he could melt into your arms and soften. As he stood in the face of danger, he never felt fear. Whether he was battling nations, facing enemies who had never seen defeat or fighting back a raging fire, his strength and determination never faltered. He was used to people looking up to him, he was used to giving orders and degrade the pawns and yet with you he let his guard down. In your presence, he felt comfortable and at peace with things he would never consider himself doing. The sweater you made him wear, he wouldn’t ever even think of putting on because someone asked. The party he was now sitting through, he would never attend if it wasn’t for you. And most importantly, there was no way throughout heaven and hell that someone would tell him what he can and cannot do, except from you. You were his weakness and his strength and he knew he would do anything for you, gladly following you to the ends of earth. The very thought of hurting you sent a chill down his spine, you had the power to make him forget everything else in the world and when everyone else would cause his blood to boil, you had the ability to unleash a huddle of butterflies into his stomach. It took him a thousand years to feel something like this. Your love was the only thing that truly scared him, the force that rendered the king completely powerless. But he wouldn’t have it any other way and though it made him conflicted, he was willing to follow the silly tradition just to see you smile. But on his own conditions.

“Fine.” He grumbled, a smirk already forming on his lips and just by the look of him you knew there’s an idea blooming in his head and for a moment you wondered if you should be worried or not. He wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate in here, right?

“Love you,” you whispered to him to award his willingness to bend his own rules and even gave him the softest of pecks onto his temple before you got back to chatting with your friends. Sukuna was, let’s say, okay with coming to the party but it didn’t mean he was going to carelessly chat with sorcerers. He already spent some unwanted time with the brat Yuji, wondering why on earth was that kid so happy. Needless to say, Sukuna was vibing much more with Megumi.

As the time was passing and your boyfriend was looking uncharacteristically relaxed in the festively twinkling surrounding, you managed to feel more at ease as well. You felt the slight burden at first, that you forced him to take part in something he had no wish to participate, something as odd and unknown to his nature as friendly people gathering but turned out he was able to push through the party and not kill or threaten anyone too much. He was sitting so calmly that you managed to forget about the mistletoe.

That’s why it took you by the biggest surprise when the strong, familiar arms wrapped around your middle as you got to the balcony to breathe some air and cool yourself, the hot chocolate in your system making a great job at raising your body temperature.

“Got you,” Sukuna’s low tone sounding right next to your ear made you smile and you turned in his embrace to face him. He pulled you close, pressing his large body against yours. “And I also got this,” he chuckled, showing you the little branch of mistletoe that he most likely salvaged from the much bigger bouquets inside Gojo’s apartment. He gave you no time to respond when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. The impact of his passion pushed you back and as your butt touched the railings, instinctively you grabbed onto him more, melting into safety of his form. If your mind wouldn’t be so consumed by the feeling of Ryomen’s lips on yours, you’d probably curse the seventeenth floor Satoru got his apartment on.

There was a hunger to the kiss, it was intense and the passion was electric. It felt like time stood still and all you could do was to lose yourselves in one another.You felt as if you were about to melt into your lover’s body, his warmth pulling you in like a magnet, closer and closer. You leaned into the warmth of his love that sheltered you from the chill air. His embrace made you feel the cold night slip away, when he kissed you, you felt like you and him were the only two people in the world. One kiss led to another and another kiss led to the tongues dancing to the melody of longing and desire. It was magical, it tasted sweet, it was addicting.

You were breathless when Sukuna pulled away, just enough to look at you. The cold winter wind blew through your hair and the knit of your sweater making you shiver as you stood on the balcony overlooking the world below and yet your cheeks were hot and flushed. He was looking at you for a moment, saying nothing but the silence was comfortable. He was examining your features, just softly washed over with the lights coming from inside the apartment. He watched the snowflakes stick to your hair and reddened cheeks and allowed his fingers to brush it away. Then he was kissing you again, pressing himself to you even harder, the kiss sizzling in the cold of the night.

As your lips met, your heartbeat began racing again. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, the rush of adrenaline filled both of you with ecstasy and lust that made you forget about the frigid winter air nipping at your nose. Your tongues danced and your breaths grew heavy. Sukuna’s hands were roaming around your body, exploring your curves and sneaking underneath your sweater, but the chill air that he invited there was no match for the heat his hands were leaving on your skin. It was as if he wanted to devour you right here and you couldn’t help but to touch him as well.

“’kuna—“ you whimpered against his lips, feeling his calloused fingers gripping your thigh. “Wait ‘till we get home.”

“Why would I? I got the weed,” he mumbled, a smirk apparent on his mouth as he let his other hand squeeze your butt.

“Yes, to kiss me, not to fuck me,” you chuckled, cuddling to his chest, seeking the heated safety his form provided.

“If you’re gonna tell me I need another herb to—”

“You don’t,” you cut him, giggling softly. “But the balcony at Gojo’s apartment, during the Christmas party is not the right time for that. Besides, I’m freezing, so let’s get back inside.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel all giddy. Of course he was going to find a way to get what he wanted, and of course he was going to do it in the most scandalous way possible.

[belladonazeppole]

Rewrite The Stars

(Here is part 2 @adyophene )

It's been some long days since Lilith arrival at the hotel.

For some reason Alastor become more obsesive with Husk even dropping the fake charm sometimes and treat Husk worst but they finally have a moment just the two of them; not his ex-wife or Alastor near to hear them

Especially for what Lucifer wants to tell Husk.

'You know I want you it's not a secret I try to hide.' It feel so good finally saying it and different from the first time he ever wanted somebody.

He can see how the bartender fur bristle at his words, 'You know you want me so don't keep saying our hands are tied'' They isn't turning around, 'You claim it's not in the cards and fate is pulling you miles away and out of a reach from me but you're hearing my heart so who can stop me if I decide it's on my destiny?'

Fuck destiny!

He doesn't care about fate or what anybody else has to say about them; not Lilith, the high raking demon, even less Alastor.

He make his decision.

He wanted to give love another chance.

It was the choice he make for himself.

With a hand movement he opens the portal showing the golden circus tent, 'What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine nothing could keep us apart." He starts to fly slowly while offering his hand wanting for Husk to take it.

Maybe Husk wasn't made for him but it was something they slowly build.

They weren't made for the other but it felt so right to say it.

It made sense for him.

'You'll be the one I was meant to find it's up to you, and it's up to me, no one could say what we get to be so why don't we rewrite the stars?' And maybe the world could be ours, tonight.'

Husk just stare at his hand, his ring gone long ago, to then look at him.

He look so tired and defeated, 'You think it's easy, you think I don't wanna run to you, yeah but there are chains and there are doors that we can't walk through.' He said trying his best in not freaking out, Husk wasn't blind about what he felt about Lucifer, he was actually happy of hearing that Lucifer felt the same.

But reality had to pop their bubble.

Husk was in chains.

Not only of chains of him.

'I know you're wondering why because we're able to be just you and me within these walls but when we go outside.' The hotel is a safe place where they could mess around but outsisd?, 'You're gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.' The sinners are brutal, not just Alastor, the moment they see in who the king of hell wants he would become more of a laughing stock.

A loser.

An old gambler.

A fucking pet.

'No one can rewrite the stars, how can you say you'll be mine?'' They weren't meant to be.

Everything and everyone wanted them to be away.

And he isn't worthy of the effort.

'Everything keeps us apart and I'm not the one you were meant to find. It's not up to you, it's not up to me, yeah. When everyone tells us what we can be and how can we rewrite the stars?' Why fight for him? Lucifer could choose anybody.

While Husk a fool that always fall for somebody out of his reach even if this time the person was offering his hand in front of him.

Lucifer was a fool for loved him.

Husk was an even more for loving again.

'Say that the world can be ours, tonight.' And like the fool he was he took the hand of the king.

Because he crave for love.

For happiness.

For freedom.

'All I want is to fly with you.'

'All I want is to fall with you.'

'So just give me all of you, it feels impossible.' Husk wanted to test the sincere love of the king even if he didn't think it was worthy, 'It's not impossible.' The conviction and determination in his eyes making, foolish, believe that they had a chance.

'Is it impossible?' He pleaded for an answer.

'Say that it's possible.' He gave hom something worse.

Hope.

And Husk took it.

The both fly for what it felt like hours but it was just seconds, 'And how do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine and nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find." For those moment they gave what the other wanted.

Be loved again.

Be in the arms of other person.

Believe they're worth of love.

"It's up to you, and it's up to me, no one could say what we get to be and why don't we rewrite the stars?'

"Changing the world to be ours." The king gave a hopefull smile but the sinner couldn't do the same.

They were so close, 'You know I want you it's not a secret I try to hide but I can't have you." Yet so far away.

'We're bound to break and my hands are chained.' A green chain appears around Husk neck and pull him down to the darkness.

[marclvsf1]

A WHOLE LIFE // SEBASTIAN VETTEL

(English is not my first language, I apologize if there are any spelling mistakes)

(There will probably be more parts to this story)

You had met Sebastian when you were both still in high school, from the first moment you met thanks to a get together with some friends in common, something inside you knew that you were destined to be together, but you didn't tell him at that moment, you didn't want to sound like a freak, but what you didn't know is that he had also felt that connection inside him, and that since then there wasn't a moment when you were not in his thoughts.

You went more than two months without speaking to each other, both out of embarrassment, but still, you spent your days thinking about each other and giving each other sly glances whenever you met in the hallways. Or well, what you thought were disguised, since you both noticed when the other looked at you, even so, neither of you dared to take the first step yet.

At least not until the last day of school before the long-awaited summer vacation. You were talking with your friends by the front door, when a more than shy Sebastian approached where you were, or rather where you were, with a smile on his face which you reciprocated.

-Hello," he said once he was already in front of you.

-Hello- you mumbled in response, feeling the embarrassment come over you-

-I… humm… I was wondering if you could… pass me your number" he mumbled so low that you doubted if you had heard him correctly.

-What? you asked to make sure that you weren't getting your hopes up in vain, and that really that blond boy who had caught your attention since the first time you saw him, and who at that moment was in front of you, was asking for your number, to you, an ordinary girl, not that you had low self-esteem, but neither did he think you were prettier or better than the rest of the girls in the school, while the whole school was aware that Sebastian was one of the most attractive guys you could find there, and that thanks to his talent, his career as a professional pilot, his career was about to take off.

-If you could pass me your number," he repeated this time louder, but still with some embarrassment adorning his voice.

You did, of course you did, you'd be foolish to waste an opportunity like that, but of course you did it without hope that he would actually write you, or at least consider doing so. You still weren't capable of thinking that someone like him could notice someone like you.

But despite all the predictions you yourself had made, that same night you received a message from a number you had not registered, and when he confirmed it was him, for the first time you felt the butterflies in your stomach that you had been hearing about all your life, and that until then you didn't believe were real. You didn't believe that someone could make you feel so many things with just a simple message that before you might have considered insignificant, like a good night message, or a good morning message without reading it.

You spent days, weeks, months… and even almost a year talking by text or call practically day and night. And although your meetings were less and less frequent due to Sebastian's demanding and tight schedule, he always found a way to send you a message to make sure you were okay, or he looked for a moment to call you even if it was only for five minutes.

You were both aware of your feelings for each other, but it wasn't until July 4, 2006 at Signal Iduna Park, in the World Cup semi-final match between Italy and Germany, that you both decided to confess your feelings to each other, albeit involuntarily. When Germany managed to score the last goal of the match, and the one that assured you the pass to the final and while you were hugging each other, without knowing how, why, or who of the two had made the move, that from one moment to another your lips were united. But what you did know, was that at that moment nothing existed but the two of you, and that you were both clinging to each other wishing that moment would never end. Unfortunately it did, though, as you both needed to regain the oxygen you had been holding on to.

You had spent the whole trip back to the hotel in silence while both of you were lost in your thoughts, while one of your fingers were intertwined with each other, and although you both realized that, neither of you did anything to break that contact, no matter how small it was.

You were about to enter your hotel room after having said goodbye to Sebastian, when a tug on your arm made you turn quickly, and before you could realize it, those lips which you had only tasted once, but which you could recognize among many others, rested on yours in a soft kiss full of feelings.

And so you ended up, confessing to each other the feelings you both had been repressing for so long in the middle of a hotel hallway. And although it wasn't what most people would categorize as romantic, for you it was certainly a unique and special moment. And unknowingly you both went to bed with a smile on your face, and thinking about what your life would be like in the future, where you would live, how many children you would have….

A year later, Sebastian finally made the long awaited jump to Formula 1, and when he asked you to accompany him to a Grand Prix, you didn't hesitate to do it. You knew how important that moment was for him, and the fact that you accompanied him made it even more special.

Although you decided to watch it from his drivers' lounge. You had never liked to draw too much attention to yourself, and that wasn't going to change at that moment when it should be all about him. Maybe he didn't finish with the best possible result, but it was his first race, plus you said he had everything he needed to achieve everything he set out to do in the future, and you weren't lying, as time ended up proving you right.

Since then you had gone to a few more Grand Prix, because you always thought that the attention should be directed to the drivers, and not to their wives or girlfriends. And Sebastian understood that, as he had always argued that a banker didn't take his wife to work.

Three years later you ended up moving into the house in Switzerland that he himself had bought years earlier.

That same year he ended up winning his first world title, while becoming the youngest ever to do so, and you ended the day celebrating the triumphs in his room in a more intimate way, although that's a different story.

That same thing happened again for the next three years, but at some point in 2013 your celebrations got out of hand.

You distinctly remember the moment you found out you were pregnant. It's not like you and Sebastian had never talked about having kids before, but at that moment, but at that moment you couldn't help but be in shock. You had been finding yourself tired, hungry and morning sickness or some smells you used to love for days.

You took advantage of a day when Sebastian had gone for an early run to head to one of the nearby pharmacies and buy a pregnancy test, before returning home as quickly as possible and locking yourself in the bathroom of your room waiting for the test result. As you watched the two lines appear on it, a variety of different feelings invaded your body. On the one hand, you were happy to hold inside you the result of the love between you and Sebastian, but on the other hand, even though you knew that he could never do anything to you, you were afraid of your reaction. At that moment he was at the peak of his career, and he didn't want you to be the one to bring him down with a baby that neither of you had planned.

You pushed all the negative thoughts from your mind as the unruly tears that had escaped your eyes with the back of your hand, and headed back to your room so you could think about the best way to break the news to him.

Contrary to all of the negative thoughts that had been rattling around in your head for the last few since you found out you were pregnant, her reaction was everything you could have ever wished for, tears had started to involuntarily invade her eyes after you handed her the test you had taken days before, along with a little redbull racing suit, before he pounced on you before you joined your lips in one of the most passionate and soulful kisses you could remember in a long time since you had been together, and once you parted he spun around as he repeated over and over again that you had just made him the happiest man in the world.

And his words were not in vain, for he spent the next few months reading every possible book on parenting, and every time you both went to bed after a long day, he would tell you everything he had learned about babies that day. In addition, whenever you were alone or he was sure that no one was watching you, he would place your hand on your increasingly swollen abdomen, according to him, so that the baby would feel him and be able to recognize him once he was born.

The last three months of your pregnancy had gone by faster and had been more stressful than you could have ever imagined. Although you appreciated that they had been during the winter vacations.

Once you reached six months pregnant and found out you were expecting a baby girl, Sebastian couldn't have been more excited.

After the end of the 2013 season he took the first available flight to Switzerland, and ended up arriving home in the wee hours of the morning, while you were already sleeping peacefully in your bed, and he did not hesitate to join you, and you were not going to lie, waking up cuddled up to his body even when you were not expecting it, was one of the best feelings you could experience.

After a couple of days of rest in which you had practically not left the bed at your request, the good times were over, as Sebastian decided it was the right time to assemble all the furniture for the baby's room, something he had been postponing every time you asked him to do it.

By mid-January, to your relief or misfortune, your daughter had decided it was time to be born, and what better time to do it than to have your water break at 4:15 in the morning. You woke up feeling a warm liquid sliding between your legs, at first you thought it was the liquid you had been having such a hard time keeping in your bladder lately, but a few moments later you realized that it really wasn't, and that your daughter was ready to meet the outside world. You woke up Sebastian feeling how panic began to take over your emotions, and although at first he did not seem to want to wake up because it was too early, once you told him that his daughter was about to be born, sleep seemed to disappear from his body all at once, and it took him less than ten seconds to take you to the car with the bag you had prepared for when the time came.

After several hours of effort, pain and suffering while you were saying all kinds of insults to Sebastian, while squeezing his hand so hard that you could break it, Irma Vettel finally arrived in the world on January 12, 2014 at 9:45 in the morning. Even though you felt like you hadn't slept for weeks, you couldn't help but feel unconditional love for your daughter the first time you held her in your arms after she was cleaned. And just when you thought you couldn't feel any more love, the sight of your little creation in Sebastian's arms while he looked at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen made you realize you were wrong.

A year and a half later the same procedure was repeated, but this time it was your second daughter, Elba, who decided to make herself known to the outside world on October 27, 2015. But it is said that all good things come to an end, and you were not going to be an exception. After having spent his golden years at RedBull, Sebastian decided to move to Ferrari, the team he had dreamed of since he was a child, and of course you supported him in his change. But not all dreams end up being as we imagine them in our heads. After a couple of good years in the team with your friend Kimi, he was replaced by the young Alfa Romeo driver, Charles Leclerc, whom the Italians had already nicknamed "il predestinato". And although at the beginning you had not had any problems and you had both welcomed him practically as your own son, the team ended up giving the ball to the side of the new driver, offering him all kinds of advantages over Sebastian, and although he pretended that the combined favoritism With the poor results he had obtained during the last races it did not affect him and he always appeared with a smile in the paddock, during all the years you had been together you had learned to read him, and you knew perfectly well that it affected him much more than he wanted to admit. , and seeing how the shine that so characterized his eyes faded little by little only confirmed it to you. You ended up with Sebastian leaning on your body on the bed while he cried and clung to your body like he was a little child because he couldn't feel good enough to be in a Ferrari, and at that moment all you wanted was to cum. with all the people who were making him feel insufficient due to a couple of bad results, but he knew that violence would not get you anywhere, so you dedicated yourself to comforting him and convincing him that he was more than enough and that all those people were the only thing that What they wanted was to hurt him, while a part of you broke seeing him like that.

But just as the good comes to an end, the bad also comes to an end, and in 2019, after 13 years together, you decided to get married in a small and private wedding where only your closest family members and most intimate friends attended within five months. Then your third child will arrive in the world, this time a boy whom you decided to call Ibar. The following year Sebastian decided to change teams again, this time to Aston Martin, a place where you could tell they really loved him and which made his eyes regain the shine that you had missed so much during your stay at Ferrari. You both enjoyed it during that stage, until 2 years later he announced that he would retire from the sport that had accompanied him for so many years, since his goal was to spend more time with his family and be able to see his children grow and help them when they asked him to. or they really needed it. And although you had told him that it was not necessary for him to retire if he really did not want to do so, the final decision was his, and deep down you were also happy with the fact that he was going to spend more time both with your children and with you, while he looked for other hobbies to entertain yourself. You could finally live as a normal family as far as possible.

[yuellii]

Just with the same three characters, Neuvillette, Zhongli and Pierro if it's alright and thank you <3

dying by the hand of an artful man

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 of red flags in your relationship

feat. neuvillette, zhongli, pierro ( separately )

notes. gn reader, click on summary above for part one, honestly unsure if knowledge and context of part one will be needed ;; these are really not the best :’) i wasn’t sure how to continue the first part…

NEUVILLETTE, always too serious, was one to continue carrying on.

Perhaps it was foolish of you to marry a man whom you knew had little to no basic understanding of human emotions—but maybe you were just too kind for even trying. Foolish for even thinking that he would attempt to learn for you, because you believed he was a man that was understanding enough.

But the cold distance felt further to you than ever, especially after you acknowledged such a displacement between his position as a husband and as a judge. In the eyes of the public, he is fierce and firm, like an unwavering flag of justice that stands his ground to bring the guilty to their downfall.

In the eyes of little ones like the Melusines, he is a good leader, one that says hello every morning like a caring father. And yet, this is the side you feel you’ve never met once in this marriage. It was as if you fell in love with Neuvillette, but married only the Chief Justice—a difference you realized too late.

“I’ll be going.” His voice was cold just the same as it was emotionless. You watched as his unwavering gaze never met yours whilst he headed out the door, wondering if it has always been this way.

“Stay safe, Monsieur.” A title that held no meaning, no love. The first time you stopped calling him names of endearment, you had hoped he noticed it. And maybe, you were a little too naive to pray for any kind of reaction. But alas, he still just nodded like it was nothing. You wondered if he loved you at all.

The Chief Justice of Fontaine, in all his stern seriousness, loving someone so emotionally deprived like you. He claimed to, at least; and at the time, you believed him. But now is when the thought crosses you like an arrow to the heart, like the Gods truly cursed you with the reminder of just how inhuman this man you called your husband truly is.

He might’ve misunderstood what love was in the first place.

ZHONGLI, even more overly protective, kept you locked tight nowadays.

It wasn’t often you could stare out the open window without him being there anymore.

Since your last escape to Lantern Rite, you’ve found the front door locked with something that seemed like adepti magic, and event the windows were shut with no route of escape anymore. Too dangerous, he said. Another Osial could rise again, he always warned.

Maybe it was the fact you were human, and he lives the life of immortality. And, maybe it was the fact he was so particular in the way you aged, and your birthday being today made no exception.

“Another year older,” he smiled so gently at you. You think it made you feel sick. “Age only brings fragility,” he muttered so close to your face, “Like stone that ages with the world, until it’s ground into nothing but sand.”

And there goes his comparisons again—comparison to something more fragile than you were.

“I only wish you’d allow me to protect you more.” And then he inches closer until his lips are on yours, tasting a bitter tea you once found so lovingly sweet. But now the flavor turns to mud on your tongue, and you’re seconds away from spitting him out. He still has the touch of a dignified, refined man. Yet his demand for control over your “safety” showed you less of a husband and more of a parent.

Tomorrow night marks the next Lantern Rite; And you plan on seeing it again. If he wants to keep you locked up here, he’ll have to drag you by the ankles from the Harbor.

You did not consider that was exactly what he’d do.

PIERRO, who asked if you would die for him, continued his pampering.

With what sanity you had left, you could sense it. Something big would be happening soon, and the death of The Fair Lady only amplified your fear.

“Shh, don’t cry now,” the leader of the Harbingers whispered sweetly into your ear. His voice was a low rumble, one that made you shiver more than reassured. “Look, she’s still with us,” he pointed, little fire moth resting atop his finger. You only continued to shake amidst your tears as you sat curled up on his lap. You were scared, yet your head rest on the chest of the most dangerous man, your husband.

“She died for a noble cause,” he told you. You might’ve been too shaken to realize where he was leading this to go. “For the Tsaritsa,” he continued, “and her everlasting glory and goals.”

Your tears slightly slowed down from your focus on his words; but you fear you may lay awake haunted by his voice again.

“This is how you should plan your death, too.” You tensed. “It should be meaningful, show-stopping…” When he trailed off, his large hand came up to rest against the side of your head, pulling you off his chest so he could see you. The pads of his thumbs swiped at your tear-stained cheeks in such a gentle manner that you were completely fooled by his manufactured love all over again. “…Sacrificial.”

Your face might’ve contorted to fear, because his hand shifted and tightened to clasp sharply at your jaw. “I love you, you know that?” he asked so kindly.

Yes.

Theres a low chuckle in his throat. “Then tonight, there’ll be a feast. And tomorrow, there’ll be a war.” He smiles at you now with a different kind of love. “And that’s when you can show me that you love me, too, through your glorious self sacrifice on the battlefield.”

[gachagon]

Is Kaiser really a king or just a thief?

I was thinking a bit more about Kaiser and his backstory, and I revisited that old fable "The Emperor's New Clothes" by Hans Christian Anderson. I was a little mistaken about the meaning of the story since I haven't read it since I was a child, but it's worth mentioning that this isn't just a "folktale" but a fairytale as well and was written by the same guy who wrote The Little Mermaid.

In the story, it's less about the King being naked for everyone to see, and more about how everyone refuses to admit that they can't see this magnificent cloak that the king is wearing for fear that they will be mocked for it. In the story, the two "weavers" are actually thieves who trick the King into letting them make him the finest cloak imaginable, with the added caveat being that anyone who's stupid or foolish can't see the cloak at all. Obviously, however, what's really happening is that every time the king gets them more materials to make said cloak, the thieves just stow it away in a sack for later.

This made me think more about Kaiser's backstory as a thief himself and it's made me wonder if Kaiser's real position in the story has always been that of the thieves and NOT the king who's wearing the invisible cloak. I wrote in my earlier post about Kaiser's backstory that Kaiser is the "Naked Emperor" in that he hadn't realized he wasn't the best on the field until that very match with Isagi. And it makes sense for him to be the "king" metaphorically speaking if we're comparing his experience to the fairytale.

Especially with this newest chapter, where he quite literally learned humility for the first time ever mid match and said "please" to Raichi Jingo of all people.

But after I reread the story and looked back at Kaiser's background and behavior in the last match, it's made me really question him. Was he always the king, or has he always just been the Thief trying to trick everyone?

You could even say that the "second thief" is Ness in this situation, and that with Ness' help he's clawed his way up to a place he doesn't deserve to be at yet. No one around Kaiser want's to really tell him the truth about himself, and he doesn't have any real "friends" outside of Ness. So in a way, he has managed to trick everyone into believing he really is the ace on that team.

I should mention that the Emperor's New Clothes ends with a child telling everyone that the Emperor has no clothes on. The point of the story being that even someone who is completely blind to the world like a child can admit when they cannot see something, unlike the adults in the story who were so afraid of being perceived as foolish that they lied to themselves repeatedly.

Isagi is that kid essentially. He has no relation to Kaiser, and he doesn't care about dethroning him as a "King" since while this rivalry is ongoing, it's not one that's centered around Kaiser himself. He's just a face in the crowd telling it like it is.

Anyways, there's actually like so much more depth to that one panel taunt than I ever realized lol. The doubt that comes with wondering if you deserve your place and title is the entire point of the short story as well. Each person who can't see the "invisible cloak" immediately believes that it must mean they're too foolish for the job the king has given them, so they lie about being able to see the cloak to the King.

I really feel like that can apply to not just Kaiser but also Ness. If Ness really knew Kaiser that well has he been lying about what he's been seeing this whole time to himself? Has he just been keeping his own thoughts about how he really feels about Kaiser to himself? I mean, I know a lot of people think Ness might be the one to leave first and if that's the case maybe this is the answer for why and how it starts.

[666writingcafe]

Trouble's Brewing

Michael

My heart's pounding as I walk up the steps of the mausoleum and approach the glowing white orb floating inches above the marble pedestal. By the time I kneel in front of it, I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have failed you. I will accept whatever punishment you see fit."

"Worry not, my child." His voice echos inside my head. "I should have known they would not come willingly. Were you at least able to gather information while you were down there?"

"I was. There are members of the House of Lords that are less than pleased with the prince's decisions regarding them."

"How many?"

"Roughly 25%, including those in the upper part of the House."

"That is excellent news. We only need two of them to activate the Rembandy Accord." A chill runs up my spine. That accord hasn't been used in millennia, and never in a situation like this one.

But it would be foolish of me to question Father, so I try to block out those doubts before He can sense them.

"May I ask who our representatives will be?" I ask.

"You will be one of them. I still have to decide on the second. Is it true that none of the other Seraphim helped you?"

"It is. I had to ask Simeon for assistance." He sighs.

"I imagine his loyalty is still divided. Sometimes I wonder if I have been too generous with him." My stomach sinks.

"Then again, based on your reports, he has been doing what he is told lately, even if he has reservations about it," He adds. "That is more than I can say about them."

"I believe he is trying to set a good example for Luke. Placing a young, impressionable angel under his care seems to have ensured his cooperation."

"How wonderful. Continue keeping an eye on him and reporting on his activities." He pauses. "Is there anything else you would like to inform me about?" I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves.

"They have an attendant," I respond once I feel calm enough to speak. "Their name is Zephyr. I do not trust them. They appear unassuming, and yet whenever we were in the same room, I was on edge. I wanted to put as much distance between us as possible, but their presence was either requested or required by the prince beforehand, so I had to remain where I was as to not cause a scene."

"Are you able to articulate what about this particular demon made you feel this way?"

"They are hiding something. They know a lot more than they are letting on. I am not sure about the breadth or depth of their knowledge, but what I can tell you is that they saw through my illusion the moment they set eyes on me."

"How do you know?"

"They seem to possess the power of telepathy. When I shook their hand, I could hear their voice in my mind."

"What did they say?"

"You're not Raphael." He hums, clearly curious.

"Perhaps they have met him before."

"I thought that was the case, but it is not. Simeon and Luke are the first angels Zephyr has ever met. Plus, none of the other demons saw through the illusion, not even the prince. Any suspicions they might have had were directed towards the brothers being allowed to return here."

"You always have been good at blending in the shadows," He remarks. "That brings me to your next assignment."

"I am ready, Father."

"Good. I want you to return to the Devildom. Make sure your presence there is unknown, even to your brothers and sisters. Document everything you can about Zephyr and report your findings straight to me. They may pose a threat to us, so we must be prepared to take action against them if necessary."

"What about the Accord?"

"For now, leave that to me. I will let you know when I am ready for you to play your part in its execution. Just focus on gathering as much information on Zephyr as you can. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Father." He really is worried. He never refers to anyone by their name, let alone repeatedly. He even calls the most powerful demons and humans by their titles, whether it's "the prince's butler" or "the witty sorcerer".

So why the sudden change? What makes Zephyr stand out that much to Him?

I suppose I'll just have to find out for myself, won't I?

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[chiricat]

another ramble about art again so i’m hiding it all under a ‘keep reading’ thingy so as to not clog ur feeds :]

aka thoughts about imposter syndrome, fanart, and what it means to draw stuff loosely disguised as a ‘ramble’. maybe a bit of akito almost-kinnie-isms (and probably ena) in there too because why not. also sorry this gets a lot less coherent as it goes on (i lost my train of thought near the end. it’ll come back someday)

i want to keep getting better. i want to keep growing and improving, so that i can convey the ideas in my head to others. i’m afraid to stagnate for too long, because what if it means i’ve hit my limit? what if i’ll never get better than i am right now? an irrational thought, really, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. hell, i felt like i hadn’t improved all that much from a year ago, when i tried to redraw a few of my older posts.

part of this stems from the question ‘how do people see my art? what kind of artist am i to them?’ which comes from when i got into fanart and fandom spaces, a long time ago. i would categorize the people i looked up to, my idols, my role models. there was the one that made comics that felt like home with your friends, and there was the one that made pieces that felt like i was sitting in a café in the middle of a busy city, and there was the one that made renders that felt like i was looking at liquid gold. i was fascinated by the effects of all these different artstyles, and decided that i wanted to do the same. i wanted to make art that made people feel at home, like a fic that you keep coming back to, or art that conveyed how i felt well enough that others felt the same way, or could understand it at the very least. 

naturally, as i continued to draw and admire these artists from afar, i wondered why exactly their art appealed to me. at first, the answer was simple: i like looking at it. but that wasn’t good enough - what about the things i didn’t really care to look at, then? what made this piece any different?

so i tried to understand, why i liked something, or why others liked something. after studying art for a little (yay classes) i understood more, i understood why those artists made the choices they did. for one, it was their powerful composition, and how they wanted to pull the viewer in with the characters. for another, it was their color palettes, which were always balanced yet strong and guaranteed to catch your eye because of it. other times, it would be the lighting, angled to present the characters in such a way that it made you feel like you were there too, or linework that made you feel just how much the artist cherished the characters. there were other, less technical things too, but i was trying to build a foundation before diving into things that were harder to learn.

in short, there was so, so much more to everything than i had realized as a kid.

so i asked myself the same question. why do people like my art? why is my art appealing and worthy of your time? and where did i fit in, if i were to categorize myself? 

these questions got a little worse. incredibly irrational. imposter syndrome was kicking in when i saw that more people were liking my art, especially when i compared it to myself from a year ago. or when my favorite artists were following me back. (it was weird, somewhat. i had always seen them as worlds away from my own space, artists that i had admired from afar and thus never believed that they would turn around and see me.)

‘do people actually like my art? is my art actually worth anyone’s time?’ i wonder. ‘do i deserve these nice comments, or even these likes?’ 

‘am i even getting better at all?’

these are a bit foolish of me to think. it shouldn’t matter, really. as long as i’m enjoying drawing and having a fun time, then why should it matter whether others like it or not? i don’t have to be doing my best, giving it 110% all the time, i’m allowed to make goofy art or self-indulgent art. this is my motto, for the most part. as long as you’re enjoying the craft, then it’s worth it.

but with the goal of improvement, i don’t always want to stay in my comfort zone. i want to keep pushing my limits, even if its just a little at a time, so i can make something impressive, something that really resonates as much as i want it to, as much as certain pieces resonated with me when i was younger. the same way that i kept coming back to certain pieces (and still do), i want to be able to do that too. i don’t want to feel like a kid playing at an adult’s game, like someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing and it shows.

it’s a tricky balance. i’m not sure if i’ll ever truly feel like i’ve ‘finally done it’. i think that most artists are never truly content with their work as a whole, anyways, and that’s okay. that’s something i should be more okay with. i can make art just for fun, and i can also make art with the intent of solely improving or practicing. i can even combine the two, and most of the time, i try to anyways.

(sorry, i lost my train of thought after writing the last few paragraphs... i dunno where i wanted to go with this exactly HHH.

tldr; i’m always stuck between ‘i’m happy making this art even if its bad’ and ‘i need to get better and leave people in awe to feel like i deserve the love and nice comments i receive’.

if you somehow managed to get to the end of this, ty for reading, even if it was a hot dumpster fire LMAO)

[golbrocklovely]

Ignoring the rest of the fandom, are you gonna do an analysis of the parts of the video you found interesting? Because that would be super interesting to read/hear as usually you give very good analysis of things and I'd be super interested to hear what parts interested you the most.

these might be a bit out of place compared to the podcast, but here are some parts that stuck out to me.

also omg this became so long so... grab a snack or something lol

i think it was really telling, and also interesting, to hear about sam's dad and how involved he was with snc and their careers early on. first off, his dad retiring at 47 is crazy, so clearly he was business savvy man and i'm glad to hear how much he helped the boys in the beginning and made sure to really help navigate them. the telling part to all of this is the fact that one of my assumption for the longest time was that colby's family (not his mom, but everyone else - especially his dad) were not as supportive. and this was kinda proof of it. i think they both have relatively conservative families, but colby's is clearly more conservative than sam's. bc if you saw your son being passionate about something and instead of being supportive, you kinda shoot him down - even tho he is finding success and making money from it - you come across like a bad parent in my eyes. it's one thing to be concerned, of course. but it's another thing to be discouraging.

i always had a feeling his family wasn't supportive, given the fact he never even mentions his family besides his mom and occasionally his brother, but this really nailed it on the head for me. it really brings me back to when snc hit some high number of subs, like 6 mil or more, and colby's dad texted him something like "6 mil. that's cool." or something extremely vague like that. and i'm like…… you wanna try to sound a little enthused there, pops??? lol

them, in general, talking about the bts-business stuff was honestly really intriguing to me. bc i've always wondered what happens on the back end of their content, since they never really talk about it. hearing them have adsense taken away from them bc they signed to a shady mcm is so surprising bc they have never mentioned that before. and it honestly makes me wonder if that was why they started their separate channels. i think they had mentioned years ago that they made their personal channels bc they wanted to make content that was outside the snc brand or that just wouldn't have fit on there, so i wonder if part of that was due to not having as much adsense for so long and just needing another avenue to gain money.

i think something else that i thought was cool to hear about was the beginning stages of their confidence journey back when they were in hs. it's an interesting conversation to be had that they (and probably many other guys) grew their social confidence thru disturbing the peace or getting girls' numbers and things of that nature but then comparing that to how girls gain confidence. bc i was the same way as them growing - i was shy, introverted, and socially awkward. and i just feel like all of those things that they claimed to do: the pranks, the "go game", things of that nature, that wouldn't have led me to being more confident. that would have just made me feel foolish, or even less social. but that's also, i think, just my general demeanor anyway. i wish they would have went a little more in depth when asked "why were you so introverted" or however the interviewer put it. bc that would have been a really interesting conversation. too bad they didn't stay on that too long.

like @xplrvibes mentioned, the anxiety conversation really just showed the difference between sam who has situational/occasional anxiety vs colby who (most likely, but i'm no doctor) has an anxiety disorder. to say your most confident was at 15 and you have to continue to stretch your social muscles…. that's not how """"normal"""" ppl work. but i get colby truly. it makes sense why he is a bit of a recluse sometimes or likes his alone time. i think this also weirdly shows that colby, while introverted/a loner naturally, can make friends easily vs sam, who likes to be around others, interestingly can't make friends all too well. or at least comes across awkwardly (by his own admission).

i liked their in depth talk about the killing best friend prank bc they haven't talked about it in years. i vividly remember when that happened and i was so shocked by the idea of it that i didn't watch it and it was before i was even a fan of them. still to this day haven't seen the whole thing. but it was nice to hear sam admit that he was in on it, even tho i know in years past he said the same thing. but so many ppl still believe he wasn't… idk. i personally think he was. plus he literally admitted he taught himself to cry (which… sounds very sociopathic, but i digress lol).

i saw a couple ppl freak out on them for saying that "if we did the following fat ppl vine now, it probably wouldn't be as much of an issue" which… is literally not what they said, but is what ppl claim they were saying. but i get what snc actually meant, which is that if they were starting out again, today, at the age they were all the way back in the day - no one would care about them the same way they have in the past. the pr stunts that they have done over the years that surprisingly worked would most likely not now. i think in a way they would get lost in the shuffle of other content creators. but part of that also is bc of what trends now vs what used to be new and exciting back then. but it is worth noting how many times things have worked out for snc in the end. xplr gods might actually be on their side after all lol

even tho i know snc have kinda done it et nauseum at this point, i do find the topic of the conjuring house interesting. especially since they made this whole spectacle about it bts to friends and really wanted other ppl's opinions on it and what they captured. and i think that, regardless of how you feel about snc or cody and satori, shows that snc really do believe what happened there and were extremely moved by it. that was obvious on camera as well, but i think it's sweet in a way how excited they were and still are about what they experienced there, whether it was technically real or not. i wish there was a way they could talk about it without debunkers losing their minds.

okay so there is a part where snc are talking about the devil's rocking chair, and colby let's slip that he felt like there was a voice telling him to stay in the chair longer…….. and i just need everyone to know that i hate when colby doesn't say that shit while it's happen and instead holds onto it for years and then casually says "oh yeah btw". like???? his empathic nature towards spirits and whatnot is so fascinating to me and i direly need to to explore that more, especially when snc have made it known that they want to work with less equipment/be more open.

the one thing i will fault these two guys interviewing snc for is when they got onto the topic of colby's cancer, colby alluded to there being some underlying trauma when it came to his cancer. that going thru chemo was fine during, but has caused trauma down the line. and like, i would love to know what he means by that. bc a lot of the time, when he talks about this, he alludes to there being something right under the surface, but no one ever presses him on it. of course, i get why some wouldn't do that, but i am genuinely curious. especially since colby always leads with "guys, it surprisingly wasn't that bad. and i'm doing a-okay now" which… hey that's great, but feels not quite right. i pray that colby took time to just, idk, cry or freak out or get angry - SOME FORM of emotion that wasn't just calm, cool, collected. it's great he was optimistic and kept his head up the whole time. that's fantastic. but i worry he's not allowing himself to feel everything fully. and you know, maybe a podcast isn't the place to do that on, sure; but i hope he's done it on his own time.

i think the final thing i want to say that i found interesting is the discussion they had about productivity. imma be honest, i'm very concerned in the long run as to how things are gonna work out for them. bc you have colby who clearly wants a break and needs one at some point, and then you have sam who feels like shit if he's NOT working. that at one point he felt like it was his purpose to work and without working, he didn't have one. and i get they have found a "balance" or so they say on that, but i just feel like in the long run if sam doesn't calm the fuck down on working constantly, he's gonna burn the both of them out. also everything he was talking about when it came to productivity and having that tied to how he feels about himself and whatnot… he sounded like he was about to have a break down or something. he sounded neurotic, and honestly i'm concerned for sam. also measuring every action you do in whether it's productive or not or HOW it's product and to what… dear god, just go to therapy. holy shit.

okay. i think that was everything. sorry this was super long, but hopefully that makes up for me taking like two days to respond lol

[cass1x1]

[ 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ] : sender is expressing anger over receiver's constant recklessness. | carter + paige o_o

@gerrykecy

It wasn't a surprise when Paige's office door clicked open. She'd expected Carter would want to have words with her, after their day. Maybe this was even the breaking point for them. Though they'd begun to enjoy their help and--well, appreciate their company on a personal level, she had no illusions that they might feel the same way.

It was somewhat surprising that the door closed with a loud thud instead of a soft snick. And even more surprising that when she looked up, Carter wasn't looking apologetic or nervous. They looked furious. "Evening," she said softly, putting down her pen and gently closing her laptop. She wasn't sure what else to say--breakups had always been hard seemed a foolish thought, though it forced its way into her mind--so she waited for Carter to proceed.

She didn't have to wait long. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" they asked, voice shaking with what Paige had to assume was barely-contained rage.

Paige pressed her lips together. "I'm sure--"

"No," they interrupted. "I want an answer. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Their hands remained at their sides, but Paige didn't miss the way they'd balled them into fists, holding them so tight their knuckles were white. They seemed to be vibrating with a sort of ineffable energy. Paige had seen that energy before, but never like this. Never so intense, so dark, so directed.

Despite her best efforts, resentment shot through her, hot and unwelcome. She'd never asked them to join her, had tried to warn them against it. How dare they get mad at her for being put in danger by something she'd made clear was dangerous? What happened to buyer beware? "You'll have to be more specific, then," she said, calmly and more than a little sarcastically. "I've had a long day, and my self-esteem isn't precisely shining at the moment."

They stepped up to the desk, hands curling on the chair she'd begun to think of as theirs, still white-knuckled. They made no move to pull it out or sit. She wondered if perhaps she should stand, but thought better of it. "You're a smart person. You know what that man has done, especially to women, for less than the reasons he might have to hurt you. You know what getting rid of you would do for him, and for a lot of people he owes money to. You know there's a fucking bounty on your head. And you still went to meet him. At night. In an abandoned parking lot that screams murder-site. So what the fuck is wrong with you?"

There was no reasonable defense for accusations which were true. Paige told herself this when she had no other recourse--that because she was telling the truth, there would be no out for the people at the center of her story. Her resentment only grew at the fact that this was being turned on her now. Her voice growing smaller, as though she could out-quiet them, she gave the only answer she could. "He promised me information if--"

This time, instead of interrupting, Carter slammed their fist on her desk. Hard. The sound startled her. It seemed to startle them, too. Their eyes were shining, almost glowing, with that same buzzing energetic intensity she'd noticed when they walked in. They seemed detached, just a little bit, from the normal binds of reality. Paige wasn't scared of them exactly--that they wouldn't hurt her, they were fairly certain--but it unsettled her. Maybe that was what they wanted. Still, when they spoke, their voice was the same level as when they had come in. Loud enough to be unmistakable, but still quiet enough that no one outside the room would hear. "You could have been killed. Or hurt so bad you would want to be killed."

"I'm aware of the risks." Her tone was arch, like they were discussing some sort of daring hobby rather than late-night, abandoned parking lot meetings with men whose body counts totaled in the dozens.

That answer didn't soothe Carter. If anything, it maybe made it worse. They pulled their hand back to the chair, purposefully and pointedly relaxing their grip. They tilted their head up as though to ask the heavens for something, and then closed their eyes. It was, Paige understood immediately, an effort to calm themself down. She wasn't sure she deserved it, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"You could have been killed, Paige. If I hadn't been--if I hadn't been there, and very lucky, you would have been killed. And if you do something this stupid again, and I'm not there..."

What she wanted to say was that she wouldn't. It was strange--she'd never let anyone stop her before. Not when she knew what she had was important. But giving Carter some peace of mind seemed important too, now. The problem was that it would be a lie, and she suspected they knew that. "I--" She searched for something else. "I'm sorry it scared you."

"That's not--" They did it again: looking up to the sky. Maybe they did want some divine intervention. If the tension in the room hadn't been so painful, she might've laughed at that. "I'm not mad that you scared me. I mean, I am, but I'm not just mad that you scared me. I'm mad that you threw yourself into a situation you knew was dangerous, and I'm mad that you probably do it when I'm not with you just as much as when I am, and you don't have anyone looking out for you. Least of all yourself."

She answered before she had time to consider the words or stop herself. "You're looking out for me, aren't you?"

Carter ran their hands over their face rough enough to distort their features for a moment. "I'm trying," they said. It almost sounded more like they were speaking to themself or her. "God help me, I'm trying."

Once again, the urge to chuckled bubbled inside her, but she kept it down. "I'll...I will try to tell you, then. Before I do something dangerous. Will that help you?"

They parted their fingers to look at her. Some of that buzzing energy seemed to have dissipated out of them. "It's a start."

[muerteporfavor]

The human condition never ceases to astound me. I will go about my life completely oblivious to the way humans impact each other, and then someone will appear and say something to me that stuns me.

(more thoughts and ruminating under the cut I just felt like it was getting too long lol)

For example, as I have said before I will soon be unemployed, but a coworker of mine today, someone who does not know my name nor I theirs (however he always drops off carts over to me despite the fact he does not have to. It's a small thing but it helps me a little and I appreciate it). However, today he dropped off two empty carts for me to fill when I needed, and asked when my last day was. I imagine he heard through the grapevine.

I told him Wednesday. He asked me where I was going next. And for lack of a better answer, I said I wasn't sure. Which felt lame. He said he'd mentioned me to his wife. "I don't know her name but she's leaving soon." And his wife had been happy to encourage me coming to work at the business she works at as the pay is good and it's similar to what I've already done.

I must repeat myself. I do not know this coworker's name, nor he mine, and we work on complete opposite shifts that only overlap in the wee hours of the morning. And yet, he did not hesitate to offer me information on local hiring, and had even, mentioned me to his wife. Which is jarring.

This happens to me on occasion. Where someone I don't think twice about, has thought of me in a greater capacity than I believed to be even remotely plausible.

And I wonder what that says about me. Am I so self-centered, self-obsessed that I don't even consider this a possibility? It wouldn't occur to me to offer advice or information to someone I hardly know, yet this human did. Perhaps it's a generational gap. (I feel as though as the generations continue to progress the more and more secluded they seem to be. Elders tend to be more sociable. Millennials less so than elders but sociable all the same. Gen Z, however seem routinely secluded. Or at least from my experience. Perhaps this is a symptom of the internet. From the outside looking in we are secluded, but from the inside we are surrounded by people at our fingertips.)

I like to imagine that once I exit a room, a building, an environment, suddenly I no longer exist to the other residents. A foolish hope that they get amnesia that can only be lifted by my return. This is not the way the human mind works, out of sight does not necessarily mean out of mind, yet my social anxiety that exists in an ever present thrumming screams for this dream to become reality.

It won't. And every morning, my alarm goes off, I sit on the edge of my bed, and fight my anxiety for control over my thoughts. It wants to scrutinize every detail of every interaction and scold me for breathing. I simply don't want to revel in the past twenty-four hours and wish I could just go about my morning routine unobstructed. I usually lose.

Having social anxiety is like getting black out drunk and waking up in the morning with no memory of what happened, later to return in chunks, but a shame so unrelenting so overshadowing that nothing else can't be understood. And I don't even have the luxury of substance use for fear I'd never let go of the crutch of weightlessness it could potentially provide.

A former friend, made former by distance not opinion, once told me he was happy to see me (prior to this encounter we hadn't seen each other in a while and we happened to run into each other at an event) and he said that I was one of his first friends when he moved to the area and my love of reading and books had reinspired his. This was years after we first met and it astounds me that I could have had an impact like that despite the fact I was merely just existing in my own little world half the time back when we met. Literally I can recall a time he invited me to his lunch table and I sat at it and read my book while everyone else talked around me because I was unfamiliar and out of my depth with the other people at the table.

Maybe that says all you need to know about my character. That the seclusion of Gen Z, that I observed prior, is just colored by my own bias of my seclusion. Although, in my defense, I am less secluded now. I'm still trying to figure out how to balance having a social life and still do my hobbies. It is such a trying task as I fear if I reject an invite even once suddenly I'll never be invited again. Which is coupled with the fact I don't invite people to hang out with me and this can be concerning for people who don't realize it's just because I am so used to doing everything alone that it simply would not occur to me to invite a friend to join me.

It is something I might want to work on.

[legendarysaniyah]

[The Forgotten Tower] CHAPTER 2

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴ

“yeah.. haha. I kinda wasn’t hoping to get married too… just friends, right?” he asked. “yep, hopefully…” Ophelia muttered.

——

Later that evening, the royals of Utopia sat down in the grand dining hall. Awkward glances were shared between the guests due to the previous event that day. “It looks like the main courses will be served.” The Utopian King informed the guests, purposely to lighten the mood. “Ratatouille! My favourite!” Sebastian grinned, some of the other guests were beginning to create a conversation between each other, making the dinner less awkward. “This looks great, why don’t you try some, dear?” Ophelia’s mother, the Queen of Utopia, gestured Ophelia to eat some food.

“I don’t want to. Believe me, mother, I know that this is only a foolish scheme from my own father, one whom I trusted, and one I shall never again.” Ophelia spat. Ophelia’s mother fell silent for a second, her lips curling slightly, into a frown, but still remaining with a neutral expression. “You are the only heir of Utopia, I am disappointed in you, Ophelia. I thought you had known that this was by tradition.” She muttered quietly to Ophelia. Ophelia’s expression had changed, she could recall feeling pale and horrified. Ophelia’s mother, taking notice of this, sighed before looking at her bewildered daughter in the eyes. “I will explain this all to you later, Ophelia.” Ophelia’s mother spoke before turning her head to join another conversation.

-

It was later that evening, after the food had been served and consumed, after the guests have retreated to their temporary grand rooms, was where Ophelia longed to know the answer. What had her mother been talking about? ‘By tradition’ what could that mean?… Ophelia was wandering in the palace gardens outside. It looked beautiful, the water fountain with its clear, crystal water flowing down, and the flowers, blooming throughout the day and night, looked after well by the castle gardener.

The flowers were arranged neatly in beautiful rows as if it were an endless field, the vibrant colours of the roses sparkling, which had lit up the garden even if it were shadowed in darkness. However, Ophelia had always favoured the specific bouquet of pale, white roses. She just wondered what made them look so gorgeous, the way they were, and attracted such light without being vibrant like the others.

Ophelia had also wondered what was going to happen, to her. Could these roses that have looked so beautiful that they would also appear, tied neatly in golden lace ribbons and clutched in Ophelia’s very hands at her wedding?

-

But it was only 22:42pm. The day wasn’t over yet.

….

“Ah.. you must be Princess Ophelia!” a voice said. Startled by this, Ophelia jumped and turned around, quickly unsheathing a shiny iron sword that was held by one of the knight statues. “Who are you?! Show yourself at once!” she yelled. Emerging from the shadows, was a tall, slim lady. She had dark hair, tanned skin and ocean blue eyes. “I am Marigold, Sebastian’s mother, Queen of Orilon…” she said to Ophelia. Ophelia could faintly remember as she saw a glimpse of her. “Oh… well, why are you here?” Ophelia asked, suspicious of the Queen’s intentions.

-

“Well, I overheard you and your mother’s little conversation… and since she hasn’t told you, I will.” The Queen of Orilon spoke.

“Utopia and Orilon are two trusted alliances together. We have traded with your town and you have done the same. But after you were born, it was only later on there was a small discussion about this ‘marriage’ business going on. Of course, if my Sebastian wouldn’t want to marry you, then so shall be it. And that so seems the case. However your father… isn’t too keen on that…” she said to Ophelia.

“I know… hopefully something can be sorted out…” Ophelia sighed. “I shall be going back to my chambers now, make sure you return to yours as well.. farewell, Ophelia. I will see you tomorrow morning.” Queen Marigold said, before turning away, back into the palace.

Ophelia clenched her fists in fury. Why did she have to go through this? All because of trading links and all that rubbish?! Ophelia wished she could just leave the castle. Atleast until the Orilon Family leave…

Ophelia truly believed that they would leave soon enough, but she paused for a moment, sighing in frustration after realising that her father would try his hardest attempts for Ophelia and Sebastian to get married. Ophelia’s fists were still tightened, slightly shaking due to the overwhelming feeling of her anger. Ophelia yelled in fury, before grasping onto a gorgeous row of crimson red roses and tugging onto the stems, pricking her fingers in the process with the piercing thorns as Ophelia tore them apart violently.

-

23:15pm. The day wasn’t over yet.

Ophelia hadn’t realised how long she had been wondering around the palace. It felt like hours, days, weeks, months. She was lost in her thoughts. What could she do to avoid this stressful situation?… Pacing back and forth across the hallways, back into the garden, to repeat again, and again, and again. Her face was practically cascading sweat as well as her own tears.

She looked up at the stars which could be seen so clearly from the delicate glass roof of the indoor garden. Ophelia glared at them for a moment, and paused in whatever she was doing. The stars shone so brightly, shimmering from thousands of miles away, before Ophelia could have sworn that her eyes might have went blurry, suddenly as if the stars were like bright lights and they all gave in, their light disappearing, and soon, it was as if were no stars in the darkness and the depths of the night sky.

Ophelia sniffled as she looked down onto the pale pavement, which had become darker due to the sparkling stars disappearance. ‘Is there really no candle to light my path?’ She thought as tears brimmed in her eyes, her face becoming more pale as the warmth, her only source of comfort, disappeared into nothingness, just like the stars.

snap!

“Sebastian? Queen Orilon? Is that you?…” Ophelia called out, louder, but cautious not to wake anyone.

A luminous glow emitted from the garden’s vibrant selection of flowers, in between the exotic plants and trees planted around the garden. A strange aura glowed from that area, so Ophelia decided to investigate. Treading carefully, steadily and quietly towards the mysterious glow which was seemingly becoming more stronger and powerful.

….

——

[softersinned-arc]

(I promised it whatever it needed.)

Foolish, she thinks, but she thinks they are all entitled to a bit of foolishness now and again. She is certainly in no position to pass judgment. Astoria listens in silence as he speaks, and when he finishes, gives her the demon's name, she smiles a brilliant and inhuman smile, her mouth painted bloody red, her teeth a flash of white just a bit too wide. "Orthax," she repeats slowly, almost as if she's savoring the syllables. It will look good in her handwriting, she thinks, the label to another jar full of magic and spell work. "Clever thing, to prey on you in that moment, but we are cleverer by far."

Her fingers begin moving again, and she twists another thread free, drops it into the empty jar beside her. There's a knot she'll need to work at in a moment, and she begins preparing for it, unwinding a particularly nasty tangle near it, brow furrowed as she does. "When you've been helpless," she says, after several moments of silence punctuated only by a murmured fuck when she drops a thread and has to start over, "it's difficult to keep from feeling intoxicated by knowing that you'll never be so easy to harm again. There is something almost... divine in knowing that you are too powerful to be cut down so easily as you once were. You have been ground down beneath someone's heel, made less of a person, made less alive, and to become untouchable?" Her voice trails off, fingers flying, and she sits back with a satisfied grin when she pulls another thread free. Her eyes shift up to theirs, and she notices that they are an especially lovely shade of green.

Like the first breath of life in the spring, seen in the moments before the sun rises, pale and soft, at once otherworldly and the most wonderfully natural color. Pure earth, pure life. It makes her ache. She shifts her eyes instead to the curve of their jaw for a moment, but she finds herself all but dragged back to meet their gaze, as if she simply cannot look away from them.

"I know the sensation intimately," she says finally. "Whatever you've done, however many lives you've taken, however much blood you've spilled—that you didn't lose yourself to it is a marvel. I've lived long enough to wonder if the damage I've done is irreversible—it is, it almost always is—and what to do about it. The only options, I've found, are live with it, or let it kill you, and I cannot speak for you, but I have survived enough and become far too stubborn to allow anything to be the death of me, certainly not without a fight. I suspect you may be the same. The point is—whatever your reasons for wanting this back, Percival, it's never too late to come back to yourself, even if it feels like it is. There is no piece of your self so small it isn't worth saving."

She says it conversationally enough, as though they are discussing the weather. She lowers her eyes back to the gun, returning to the threads. His presence is distracting, though not in the way that a client's usually is. She smells a hint of lavender, and something beneath it, something unique to him; she hears the pattern of his blood, the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath. Her awareness of him makes her a little uneasy, and she tries to swallow it, tries to ignore it, tries not to notice the strange itch in her palms and the arches of her feet.

(For a moment she thinks of him wielding the weapon, and she's almost light-headed with a sudden, near-sickening wave of hunger. She's simply thinking too much about blood, she decides; it will pass. Still, she grants herself a moment's indulgence in that hunger. She wants, and badly, to hunt.)

"No creature, in my experience, mortal or otherwise, is wholly good or evil. Cruelty is the sister of compassion. The world would be much easier to navigate if this weren't the case, but we must all make do, I suppose. No one would make a deal with a demon were there not something to be gained, and most of the deals I've encountered were made out of love and pain more than greed or wrath." Some part of Astoria warns her that she's talking too much, but at least it keeps her from that abominable hunger. She smiles again as she works, falls silent for several minutes as she struggles with a knot so tightly tied that it seems impossible to even recognize how many threads are wrapped around it. She looks up, then, eyes meeting Percy's, and she visibly softens.

They're cautious of her, she thinks. She can hardly blame them. She is, by her very nature, a predator; even now, there is a part of her toying with the idea of hunting them, a vague and hollow hunger that distracts but does not yet consume. But caution may not necessarily mean fear, and she is comforted by that notion.

"De Rolo." She hums thoughtfully, considering him, before she continues. "I knew your great-grandfather, I think. And your grandfather. Not well, mind you, but I met them frequently enough that they found it odd that I never seemed to age. Your grandfather was a perfect gentleman. Your great-grandfather, however, had a rather wicked sense of humor and particularly enjoyed a particularly sardonic running commentary on whatever he witnessed."

Her lips part as if she means to keep speaking, though she's silent, watching them. When Scanlan wrote to alert her of their impending arrival, he gave her a brief explanation of all that had happened in Whitestone, and there is a burning and uncomfortable shame in her belly at the thought of everything that's happened these past several years. No, everything she's allowed to happen, without the slightest push back from her—my condition demands caution, she thinks, as if to soothe her own guilt, but she looks at Percival de Rolo, remembers meeting his namesake, tries not to think about what must have happened to him in that time to make him willing to deal with a demon.

(Could she have saved him? Probably not; a wounded animal will lash out, no matter how gently it's held. And she couldn't risk drawing attention, not when it could mean the collapse of everything she's built in Old Grimhold, these last vestiges of her family's legacy. Some part of her almost wants to apologize. She rejects the thought; it's neither the time nor the place, and besides, he has enough to worry about without taking on soothing her soul.)

Astoria presses her lips together, and with some effort she manages human speed and human grace when she extends a hand to him, palm up, over the table. "I enjoy the company," she says, voice soft, almost warm. "And the conversation. But this will take time, and if you need to rest, a room's been set aside for you. I can work while you sleep. Though if you'd rather stay here, may I see your hand? The one you use to shoot?" And then, warmly, now, "I want to see if there's anything on you. I can try and remove that first. I won't be offended if you don't want to be touched."

It is unsettling as it is endearing to watch her become engrossed. It's fascinating to see her get to work, to wield her craft with such fervor. It is intimidating to watch her pick over his creation, soaking in the concept of the pepperbox with a mix of fear & delight. Astoria peeks at this & that, sniffing at the lingering scent of sulfur & it feels strange to have someone examining what had once been a part of him. he takes another sip of his drink to distract him from his thoughts, though his gaze does not leave her. percy is watching her & with good reason. he does not know what is going to happen next.

he wants to slide out of his skin when she looks at the names on the list. they were a threat, a promise to tear through anyone who stood in their way. percy knew, in the pits of his being, he could never truly be rid of this... thing, this demon. It was a part of him, he owed it a debt, but if he could live the rest of his short life as far from it as possible that would be enough. it would have to be. his creation is a direct connection to the creature. it was a valuable enough weapon to want to keep, but not as it was. not when he could feel the hatred flare when he touched it, not when it spoke to him so sweetly of a shared future. the names on it's barrel were a grim reminder of who he could be if he gave into it, if he fed into whatever was on the other side.

"This is a work of art. Magnificent. I can see why it's worth salvaging."

Astoria's words draw him from his thoughts, her novelty only matched by her discomfort. it's a nice thought,he muses. that to someone who had lived so long, his invention was still unknown. he could still bring her something she had never seen before, even in immortality. it's confirmation that he is as mad as he thought & her wonder makes him think if she may be too.

Percy tries to look through Astoria, at the weapon in her hands. it's unloaded, of course, but it feels wrong to see it in someone else's hands. He had known from the beginning that it would open a door for devastation, that he was the first but would not be the last to build a gun. It is still intimidating to see it in the hands of someone smart, someone who wanted to know how it worked, what it did. That was only the beginning. What's to say she wouldn't try to make one of her own when he left here. he's half tempted to take it from her hands & go home, to tell scanlan her work was done & be on his way. It's almost tempting enough to do it. he tears his gaze from the list at last, wishing he had brought his flask.

he feels his hairs stand on end when she peels away her glove. even as she keeps from touching it. he knew this was going to be uncomfortable from the moment he had agreed to do this. he knew this wasn't going to be fun & yet he did not expect it to be as scary as it was when she was so close to handling it with he bare hands. Percy doesn't know the specifics of what she does, but he can imagine it opens some dangerous doors. It's time to find out if she walks through them too. When she asks for his truth he's not sure whether to be thankful to have something to focus on or ill because that something was him.

" I promised it whatever it needed. " He admits this, ignoring a distant sense of terror settling in. He could tormenthimself any other time & he would... He wonders often if his soul was entirely his own. Maybe doing this would help, maybe it would give him some sort of autonomy over his being. Maybe it would only free him until he was dead. Percy would not be surprised if her were damned. He may have been, even without the demon's influence. Hatred was corrosive, it took something from him, changed him into someone else. someone who had welcomed the help of a demon, knowing or not. he had killed people, hurt them. as much as he wanted to think it was not entirely is fault, the instinct was there far before any otherworldy influence, " for that, it would give me what i needed as well. "

" It showed me how to make that. I had the idea but it showed me how to make it a reality, despite the consequences... with it at my side, i was drawn towards my crueler instincts, " he waves towards her, gesturing to the list. as much as he wanted to take comfort in her assurances, she didn't know. he can't pin his cruelty entirely on the demon. it agitated him, this is true... but he was so close on his own. it was no surprise that a little push was all it took, " I cried out for revenge & It answered. I didn't know if it was real or what price i may have to pay. It came to me in a dream & for a long time, that's all it was. "

" We... I had half of them. One person from the original list remains." this draws an uncomfortable breath from his lungs. percy had tried to be better, tried to let go some of the hate... but it was easier said than done. He could forgive them, for himself, but that did not erase what had already passed. he wasn't sure how long he'd been holding it, but it's a relief when he remembers to breathe. It gives way to a moment of silence as he chooses his next words carefully, trying to separate information from emotion, " I was close when it gave me a new name. It was someone who didn't deserve it. Someone I couldn't kill. "

he wishes her words were more comforting. they may have been if he allowed them to be. but is difficult to take a lesson in humanity from a vampire, Astoria's concept of right & wrong was bent to another disposition. brutality & gore was ingrained in her essence, she lived a life outside of the realms of right & wrong that percy ( poorly ) abided by. but despite the initial wave of protest, it is still strange to hear it - to hear something he wanted to hear, whether or not he would accept it. someone who knew what it was to create & destroy was telling him that the invention that would define his life was not evil. that it could never be so simple. ( just as her nature could not be so simple, despite his instinct to boil it down to inhuman )

whatever she is doing with that knife, he cannot see. but he must watch, drawn back in by her focus. it's easy to watch her slip the knife in between invisible spaces than focus on what was or wasn't right. He reminds himself, once again, that ethics were not the focus here. that they were here to do a job, to accomplish something & his honesty was vital to their success. not that his honesty came feely, most of the time. agitation pulls at the back of his mind . she's doing something to him, ( she's doing something to us ) he shuts it down, stubbornly.

" For a long time, when i used it, it was like a part of me. it was power in the palm of my hand. at first it as terrifying, to pull the trigger here & watch something die over there. but there was control in that. i didn't need magic to defend myself. i didn't need to be swift on my feet or strong enough to overpower my enemy. i just needed to have good aim. as i grew more comfortable with the fact, i cared less. and more, if that makes sense? less for the lives i was taking more for how quickly i could do it. " he still feels that way, often. there is pride in his power, in his ability to protect his family & friends & everything they had worked so hard to build. but it was different now. his pride could be petty, but it wasn't so vicious, " But when I was after someone on my list I was stupid. They were all I could see. It loved my rage, it aggravated it, wielding it. When I killed for It, it was like a high "

the words come like a flood. though astoria has claimed she was no priest, this felt strangely like a confession.

" There was a bit of a head rush, even. knowing i'd wiped them off the face of this earth, leaving nothing but a smear of gore. But i always lost something, too. i kept giving it pieces of myself to enact my retribution, to make them pay... & i wanted to make them pay. badly. " he is as grim as he is desperate to explain now," so they paid with their lives & it was incredible. i felt like a bullet myself, barelling forward through every obstacle. too fast to notice it gaining control in the process. "

" It never wanted to hurt me. Not physically, at least. It needed me, I think. " He thinks briefly of his instinct to end it all, to force the demon from his body with his life. How it had fought him, desperately, as he threatened to pull the trigger, " It wanted me alive & compliant. I fought back, with help. On my own, it's a fight I would have lost. "

It's not the first time he's recounted the events, but it is the first time he's recounted them to someone without bias. Those who had been there had seen him breaking under its influence, fighting desperately for autonomy over his own actions. They had seen him blinded by his hatred. They had seen him foolishly forgive. Astoria would know only what he presented, only what she needed in order to operate.

" It's name is Orthax. I recommend you tread very carefully, "ironic, coming from him. but he doesn't know her, not yet. she is shrouded in red curls & a hundred unknowns. She's got her library, her lab, her work but it was not difficult to tell there was much more to know. It's hard telling what a vampire was capable of, especially her.

[vermillionbun]

A cat’s perspective

Thank you to everyone who read the last parts <3 I appreciate the comments and reblogs. 

Warning: A lot of panic. Like A LOT. Kinda feel bad for Xiao ngl TvT

<------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

I’m not sure what happened, but when I gained consciousness again I felt cold and restrained. Sure, I was on cold and dirty concrete if I remember correctly, but this was different. It was still cold, but it felt smooth. ‘Wait, it feels like metal!? Why would I be laying on metal!’.

The more I came to the more my senses returned. Suddenly a strong smell, no, smells hit. I don’t know what they are, but they’re very overwhelming. “HISS!!!”. A very strong, stinging smell stood out from the others. It was strong enough to make my nose feel like it’s on fire. ‘Wait, IS IT ON ME!!!’. Whatever that smell was seems to be coming from beneath the white cloth thing that was wrapped around me.

I tried to claw at it and take it off, but out of nowhere my whole body started to ache. Unbearable pain successfully ripping a scream out of me, but that made me hurt even more. I want to make it stop, I HAVE to, but I can’t. I can feel my whole body convulsing, pain pulsating through every nerve I have.

I couldn’t take it anymore. All I heard was faint footsteps, before everything went black.

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I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I’ve been going in and out of it, so perception of time is lost to me. All I know is that every time I open my eyes, blazing white light always blinds me, probably the lights on the ceiling. Whoever the people here are try to make me drink water every time I’m awake, can’t say I don’t feel thirsty every time too. They haven’t given me any food though, but I don’t really feel that hungry to be completely honest. Wonder if it has something to do with the plastic tube stuck under what the people in white coats called ’’bandages’’. It’s also connected to a plastic bag full of liquid that’s hanging on a metal pole.

After drinking water again I went back into unconsciousness. Admittedly I could’ve stayed up for longer, but I had no reason to. The lights burned my eyes and everything is the same as always.

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I’m gaining consciousness again. As expected, I could feel the strong lights… wait. The lights felt different, even with my eyes closed. It feels softer and more mellow, not as strong and blinding as the previous one. And the smell around me, it was different. It wasn’t the suffocating combinations of smells as before. Whatever was on me under the bandages still smelled, but it wasn’t as potent. Maybe less was added? But the new smell overwhelmed my senses. It was… kind of comforting. The first thing that stood out was the smell of honey and milk? It wasn’t too strong, but it stood out enough to be distinguished from whatever was the other one. It smells like��a person perhaps? People do have different yet similar natural smells, no matter how much scented products they use.

Oh, and now there’s footsteps… ‘Wait. THERE’S FOOTSTEPS AND THE SCENT OF AN UNKNOWN PERSON!!!”. How could I be so foolish. My eyes snap open and my muscles tensed. Sadly it seems that my wounds haven’t fully healed yet, but the pain doesn’t hurt as much as the first time. No matter, I don’t have time to focus on the pain, I started to take in my surroundings. I can’t make out a lot yet. My head is fuzzy and panic is overtaking any rational thoughts. ”Xiao”. I snapped my head towards the voice. ‘How did they know my name’. Suddenly I notice I’m trembling. ‘Huh, wonder how long I’ve been shaking for’.

Returning to the person in front of me. The same human scent and honey and milk was coming from them. That means that this is probably their room. Their hand started to reach towards me. “It’s going to be okay Xiao. Everything is alright now. You’re safe”. It was going at a slow pace, almost flat against the soft cushion beneath us or whatever it is. Their hand stops a bit in front of my face. ‘Wait…does she not know?’. It seems that this human thinks that I’m just an everyday cat. ‘I suppose I’ll have to play along for now’.

I take a quick sniff to make it convincing and I start rubbing my head against their palm. The panic from earlier started to fade and the uncomfortable feeling of my tense muscles and wounds made itself even more present along with hunger and thirst. ‘Hopefully they’ll get the message’.

They reach to their side where my vision is blocked by a pillow, unfortunately. My ears stand up. ‘Is that water pouring?’. I hear a liquid getting poured into a glass. They bring a small glass in front of me and set it down. ‘Huh, I think my last owner almost hit me with a few of those at some point. Wonder what they’re called’, but I don’t ponder it for long. I start drinking the water. Feeling the cool liquid going down my throat feels quite nice… ‘Never realized how warm I actually am’.

After I drank my water she took the glass and refilled it and returned it at it’s previous placement, letting me continue drinking water. “TSSS!!!”. A sudden loud noise grabbed my attention. ‘Was that… a can?’. I lift my eyes up, halting any movement. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just food I promise. See?”. They brought it closer to me, letting me examine the content of the can. By scent alone, it smells like tuna. While fish may not be my favorite food, currently anything sounds good.

My mouth waters a little as I stretch my neck a bit to eat. Or at least try. The tuna is very tightly contained and it’s difficult to bite a piece off, so I start to lick it, trying to see if there’s any crack I can grip onto and rip a piece off.

Their hand with the can drew back. ‘Wait, no no no no! I promise to be faster, please!’, but before I could make any noise they placed a spoon in front me with some of the tuna on it. I start licking it, slowly moving it in my mouth and chewing on it, relieved that they didn’t take away the food as I originally thought.

They kept scooping more of the tuna and letting me eat it a little by little until I couldn’t eat anymore. ‘Tch…Damn it, I may have overeaten’. I was full and tired from all of the movement. This is probably the most moving around I’ve done in a while. ‘I’ll have to get used to moving more when I can get up again’, I thought, frowning internally.

“I’m sorry…”. ‘Huh? What are they apologizing for-!?’. Two fingers pry my mouth open and the rest of their hand grabs me by the neck. All alarms go off in my head. What are they doing? Why are they doing this? ‘Let go. LET GO. LET GO!!!’. I went to claw at them, but the sudden pain shocks my senses. ‘No no no no! I can’t move!!!... Is is this it?’. I don’t know anything anymore. They seemed so nice, so gentle. I should’ve learned by now, appearances are always deceiving.

I shut my eyes, bracing myself for whatever comes next… But nothing happens. A weird tasting liquid is dripped into my mouth that I’m forced to swallow and they let me go. I drop my head low, now aware of my whole body shaking. “It’s alright, it’s over. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”. Repeating apologies fall out of their mouth as they start to gently pet my head.

‘I don’t understand anything anymore. I give up…’. I don’t have any energy or care left. I’m too tired from this whole rollercoaster of events nor do I want to deal with it right now.

Little by little I lose consciousness, dragged into a black void, bound to later contort into a dream or a nightmare, most likely the latter.

<------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

Taglist, as requested: @vault-of-reblogs @sweet-almonds

[visionofhope04]

Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

[leviiattacks]

May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.

author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death

845, i.

Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.

Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.

Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.

"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.

"Soon?"

Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.

"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.

"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.

It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.

Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.

The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.

Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.

Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.

"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."

The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.

The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.

The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.

Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.

Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.

Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.

"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"

846, i.

Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.

It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.

No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.

All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.

Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.

That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.

Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.

The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.

Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.

Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.

Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.

Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.

Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.

"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.

"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.

His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.

Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.

"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.

Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.

"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.

"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."

Relief floods you. He doesn't know.

"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.

"If  you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.

Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.

"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"

"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."

"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.

"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.

Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."

Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.

"Sorry-"

"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.

"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.

Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.

846, ii.

Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.

At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.

You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?

Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.

Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.

Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.

"Oi, come here."

Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.

"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.

"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.

Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.

You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.

You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.

"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.

"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.

Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.

847, i.

Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.

The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you  stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.

Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?

The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.

Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?

"This was out of your control."

Do you tell him?

The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.

"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.

"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.

The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.

Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.

"Don't."

"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.

"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."

You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.

"Then die."

"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.

He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.

Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.

"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.

"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.

As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.

Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.

That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.

847, ii.

Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.

"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.

"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."

"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.

"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."

"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."

You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.

The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.

Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"

You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.

"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"

Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.

Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.

"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.

"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.

Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.

"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.

"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."

"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."

"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.

"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.

"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.

"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."

"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.

"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"

"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.

"Because I worry for you."

"You worry for everyone."

"I worry for you the most."

Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.

"We both know we feel the same."

You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.

That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.

You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.

But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.

Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.

Could your ending be in betrayal?

848, i.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"

"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.

Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.

"Swear you won't die on me."

Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.

“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.

Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.

"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.

"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."

Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.

You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.

Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.

Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.

The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.

Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.

849, i.

Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.

You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.

Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.

849, ii.

You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.

Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.

The memories become increasingly bitter.

"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."

"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.

Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.

"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."

How wrong he was for thinking that.

You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.

850, i.

Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.

Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.

Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.

"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."

You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.

"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.

"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."

Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at  it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.  

"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.

Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second.  It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.

"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.

This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.

But you agree, on the basis of one condition.

"Fine but-"

Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.

"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.

However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.

"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.

Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.

Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.

Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.

His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.

"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.

Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.

850, ii.

Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.

"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.

You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.

He isn't.

"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."

It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.

"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.

You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.

"I know." You whisper faintly.

850, iii.

When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.

Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.

But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.

The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.

The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.

"We made the wrong choice."

Erwin can't word it any better than that.

But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.

Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.

He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.

854, i.

Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.

Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful. 

Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.

“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase. 

“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .

“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”

Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.

Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.

Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.

That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.

“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.

“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.

“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.

Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.

He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.