#might take a stab at posting some opens but

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

Speaking of how Odysseus sees Eurylochus (could be seen as a part two to this post), I often think about this video Jorge made about Eurylochus where he talks about how Eury almost seems lost and like he can’t find his way due to how inconsistent his instrumental is.

I think it also implies something super interesting from Odysseus’ perspective too.

Eurylochus, as far as I can tell, only really has his Luck Runs Out motif that we almost exclusively hear paired with the rest of the crew. It’s something that he leads on, yes, but there is a moment where the crew uses it on their own (in Mutiny, when Perimedes stabs Odysseus) and therefore it feels like something much more dedicated to the crew as a whole. This could be something showing how much Eurylochus puts into the crew and how much of his life is dedicated to them, or it could also be something that shows how much more similar he is to the crew than to Odysseus (lumping himself in with them and further leading to the separation between Ody and the crew that I talk about in this post— can you tell I yap a lot about Eurylochus?).

But I think it’s interesting to look at it in a more meta way. EPIC is primarily told from Odysseus’ point of view, only changing after Eurylochus dies. So, every moment we have with him is strictly from Odysseus’ perspective and, therefore, the lack of distinction in Eurylochus’ music could easily be attributed to that.

Most of Eurylochus’ arc is implied— specifically when it comes to how he changes from Circe’s island to Mutiny and that’s led to a lot of interpretations from people that aren’t necessarily wrong due to the fact that nothing about him is very clear. And I don’t just mean people who view him as a selfish hypocrite, I also mean opinions that I hold too.

I, for example, strongly believe that there’s a real possibility Eurylochus wasn’t the only one who opened the windbag. He was definitely there and probably apart of it, but there are real implications in the show that he might not have done it alone and simply took responsibility out of guilt. It doesn’t absolve him of all wrongdoing, but it is something to consider when it comes to the discussions about his self-preserving nature versus how he prioritizes the wellbeing of the crew. That being said, these implications aren’t what’s directly in the text, through lyrics or music, so I could be totally wrong.

And that’s exactly my point; there isn’t a whole lot to Eurylochus to decipher, musically. Jorge likes to use the music to give the audience background information on characters (like how he uses Athena’s ensemble in Warrior of the Mind to tell us that Athena is amused by Odysseus fangirling over her or how we can sometimes hear Circe’s motif in regards to Scylla, both things he’s revealed on TikTok). This is the type of information that Odysseus might not necessarily know but that we get told through the music.

Eurylochus doesn’t seem to have anything like that.

Unlike pretty much every other character that has some level of distinction to them and how they interact with our primary perspective, Odysseus doesn’t have anything to connect with Eurylochus other than the rest of the crew. There’s nothing that is specifically tied to him and this carries on throughout the entire show, where he takes on other melodies and instruments depending on the context. While perhaps not intentional, Eurylochus being musically lost not only leaves a lot of his actions and motivations up to interpretation for the audience, but it also highlights just how out of sync he is with Odysseus.

Their primary conflict revolves around their inability to understand one another and it’s very clear that they both have views on the other that is incorrect. Odysseus believes Eurylochus to be too ruthless and yet too cautious to actually effectively use the philosophy and Eurylochus sees Odysseus as too arrogant, playing foolish games with the gods that will only get the crew killed. They’re both right, to a degree, but their inability to understand or even empathize with the other’s position is really what destroys them— something we see even in the very beginning. There is no musical tie to them and nothing musically surrounding Eurylochus to signal any other meanings to the audience— Eurylochus is just his Luck Runs Out melody, that again is intrinsically tied to the rest of the crew which makes it less distinctive to him as a character than, say, Open Arms for Polites.

And then comes Mutiny— where Eurylochus is the most musically distinct and yet, none of it is truly his. In the beginning, he hijacks Odysseus’ electric guitar (possibly a hint that he understands Odysseus more than Odysseus has, thus far, understood him) and, in the second half, the melody he sings is that of Survive— which was potentially the first time he truly doubted his captain in ten years— to a beat of The Horse and The Infant (that’s what my friend and I hear, anyways)— which is mostly just a tool used for foreshadowing Thunder Bringer. Then, the script flips and Odysseus is in Eurylochus’ position for the Luck Runs Out melody, possibly signaling that he’s finally beginning to understand Eurylochus for the first time since the start of the story. And, instead of going back to the lyrics of Luck Runs Out, Eurylochus turns to the specific use of the word ‘suffering’.

Because Eurylochus is so vague in his instrumentals, prioritizing the crew over his own well-being and identity, the times where he does falter into other melodies, particularly ones involving Odysseus, are very loaded with implications that you can interpret— like how Odysseus uses the concept of suffering as a motivator, associating it with Penelope and her ability to make everything worth it. Eurylochus, on the other hand, associates it with his loss of the will to survive, which is why I think it follows that song’s melody too.

But even then, Eurylochus is still followed by the voices of the crew with a melody that has never been his alone because Eurylochus, as a character, is defined by what he does for other people and, since Odysseus simply cannot understand being in that position, Eury’s music reflects that.

I just find it interesting that the character with the second most screen time has little to show for it musically, and I think that’s a good thing for showing Odysseus’ inability to see things outside of his perspective (or outside of a magical perspective; as in, he can’t relate to regular men), especially given that this is a flaw Eurylochus has as well. It could’ve been really easy to give Eurylochus a bass— which is known for being paired with guitars— or maybe a specific drum and call it a day, symbolically, but Jorge chose to keep him as only the voice of the crew with one mention of a bass and snare in Luck Runs Out.

Something about that intrigues me idk

[ntamed]

any mutuals want a starter ? 🥺

[meliciousmel13]

̗̗̀̀➛ killer!billie headcannons

paring: killer!billie x bimbo!reader warnings: smut, obsessive behavior, face sitting, stalking? (kind of), billie kills someone here, grinding, i think thats it tell me if you find any more please!

wc: 1,487

SYNOPSIS: headcannons of killer!billie x bimbo!reader

taglist: @chrissv4mp, if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

an: i wrote this today 💀 IM ON MY PERIODDD and kind of horny ngl

at first, she didn’t think much of you. she thought you were just another co-worker at her boring office job that sometimes brought everyone coffee, like the angel you were.

until she saw her co-worker, oliver, flirt with you. she knew he was flirting with you because he was touching you. he was touching your shoulder, and touching your hair. and touching, and touching. he would stop fucking touching you.

she hated that it irritated her. hated the way you wore things that made people look, like that skimpy top you wore last week, everyone was looking.

the first time you talked to her, you smiled, gave her a tissue wrapped doughnut and black coffee with one sugar cube. said it was nice to meet her and that you were new here.

it’s either you knew her, or just guessed her coffee preference. but you were so thoughtful.

she unknowingly started to follow you to the empty parking lot and find you fumbling with your keys with papers stacked on one arm.

she imagined helping you, taking those papers from you and handing you her number, maybe you call her and invite her to diner or something, anything.

but she never did anything. only savored the way her hand brushes yours whenever you were handing her the breakfast she relied on.

sometimes she skips meals so she can talk to you.

she didn’t even have to ask. just subtly hint that she forgot her lunch at home—and, oh, whatever will she do?

“you can have some of mine.” you smiled softly, pushing half of your sandwich into her hands.

“oh, i can’t take your food. it’s fine, i can go a day without lunch.” billie said, shaking her head. knowing that you would deny her not eating.

“what? no. half already fills me up you can take it.”

“if you insist.” she smiled.

it wasn’t her fault she followed oliver home. it was his fault, for flirting with what was hers. you.

she imagined stabbing oliver in the neck. hiding the body, and comforting you when you run to her, talking about how awful it is for someone to stab such a nice person.

until she actually killed him.

billie prepared her rubber gloves, the sharpened knife and various things. she thought of her plan. would she just knock on his door and stab him? no. that was too dangerous. someone might see her.

so she decided to sneak in his backyard. he lived alone, with 2 cats and 2 woman constantly coming in and out. great, he was even a cheater. see? he deserved it.

and he even screamed like a pussy. wearing his stupid shark boxers and still had his work button up on.

the next day the police came to see the crime. one of the girls he was cheating on knocked on his door to find his dick severed and his throat slit.

and guess who you came to cry to? her. you cried over someone you barely knew.

“i can’t—” hic. “i can’t believe someone s—” hic.

“shh.” she rubbed your back, while you were crying into her shoulder, you were wearing a light pink skirt on and a pretty top that left nothing for the imagination, “maybe i can come over? bake everyone cookies?”

“mhmm,” you sniffle, wiping your tears and snot on her shirt, “m’ sorry bout' your shirt.” you breathe.

“it’s okay, you can make it up to me. give me two cookies instead of one.” billie said, smiling, hiding her satisfaction.

“i’ll give you four.” you giggle. angel.

so she came over. she walked into your house invited. and she didn’t even stalk you to find out where you live—she was being good.

you opened the door with smallest fucking shorts she’s ever seen, and a tiny pink top, with no bra. which means that your nipples were leaving a small print on the fabric.

she’s in heaven. the whole house was lathered in your perfume and natural scent. and the walls were decorated with paintings and little trinkets. she knew your house wouldn’t be boring, like olivers. she sat on your couch and it was so soft.

she thought of fucking you on it. how your moans would ricochet off the pretty walls and how her cock would pump in your pretty pussy. how you would be too afraid to touch her back in case your accidentally scratched at it and hurt her. you could never hurt her.

how she would convince you to sit on her lap, naked, and whine and whimper, begging her to just fuck you already, like you couldn’t wait any longer.

she imagined convincing you to sit on her face. how you’d be too cautious, afraid to break her nose or neck. you would still do it though, sitting on her pretty face that was filled with a satisfied smile.

she would have her head almost falling off the edge of your bed, offering you to just get off her face if it was too much, it would first start off slow, you hover over her face not even siting. holding and gripping her hands, how she would leave small kisses on your thighs before extending her tongue and tasting you.

you would ‘mhph’ at that, left breathless and feeling your knees go weak, she would take her other hand and guide you to fully sit, she would feel the weight of you on her mouth. how she would shove her long pink tongue into you.

you would moan, still holding her hand and gripping her hair, bucking your hips. actually riding her. how your pouty lips let out the prettiest noises. how would let go of her hand and hold her head with both your hands and squeeze her head between your thighs.

she didn’t do any of that, obviously. just helped you with making your cookies.

you were putting in the chocolate chips now, and billie was holding your waist and watching. in reality, she didn’t do shit to help. only preparing the ingredients and keeping you company.

“now we bake them forr, i think 20 minutes.” you said, pushing the tray into the oven and bending, to reveal your striped panties. she was behind you, could feel your ass pushing against her pelvis.

“your really good at baking.” she complemented.

“thank you.” you blush, and smile.

she realized you were an angel ages ago. but when you offered for her to sleep over? oh.

she entered your room and saw the mess, the thrown dirty underwear and your “work” clothes throw in the corner of the room.

your face was flushed and you apologized for the mess. billie didn’t mind though, even helped you clean, she always treated you well, your mom would love her.

you thought about billie meeting your parents, they would think she was the best person you’ve brought them to meet, since all your other boyfriends only wanted you for your body. their personality was horrible too, they all treated your mom awfully.

but billie would never, she’d probably help your mom in the kitchen when she’s preparing the dinner. and your dad would talk about how he needed a helping hand in his mechanic company. noticing how well she was with her hands.

you imagined how the sweat would roll off her forehead—and now that’s dangerous territory, let’s not think of that.

you let billie sleep in your bed, since you didn’t want her to sleep on the floor with a pillow. that would hurt her back.

you didn’t even think of why her knee was between your thighs, she didn’t mean to push herself behind you and do that

you woke up with billie’s knee between your thighs, she adjusted her position and unconsciously moved her knee upward, causing it to hit your pussy, and you sniffled a moan, putting a hand over her knee and grinding subtly.

you were dirty. even moved your shorts and panties to the side to feel the rough fabric of her sweatpants on your bare pussy, feeling her knee hitting your clit at the perfect angle. almost like she was awake.

you slid your hand under the pillow and gripped, digging your head into the pillow and sniffling your whines.

you felt billie shuffle, and stiffen.

“good morning, angel.” she whispered in your ear, putting your shorts and panties back to their designated spot, not before brushing your clit with her middle finger, “were you busy there? sorry, your whining woke me up.”

you apologized a million times, couldn’t stop thinking of her deep, raspy morning voice in your ears. and her knee.

billie left soon after. she didn’t leave empty handed though, she left your house with a box of chocolate chip cookies and two pairs of your dirty underwear stuffed in her pockets. and a little lip gloss stain on her cheek.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Double Dutch

The twins walk in on you as you talk about your stupid, fit neighbor. Wonder who that is.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, fred lives stfu, harry potter lore noob, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a continuation to Sweets & Sweeties but both can be read individually for the most part. GUYS IDK MUCH ABOUT HARRY POTTER LORE SO PLEASE KEEP CALLING ME OUT IF YOU NEED TO COS WHAT DO YOU MEAN I THERES AN UNLOCKING SPELL HAHAHAHAHAH | cross posted on ao3

"And they didn't just use Alohomora?"

You giggle as you momentarily lean on your mop to turn to your phone, "that's what I'm saying!"

Your friend snorts from the other side of the line.

"But," you continue mopping, "to be fair, even I didn't think of it in the moment. I was just glad they helped me get back in my shop when it felt like I'd be locked in forever."

Your friend groans, "you can be so dramatic. Why would you be locked forever from your shop?"

"Stop it. I was seriously debating throwing rocks at my window to get in."

"Wow," your friend laughs, just as the bell on your front door rings, "you're just as stupid as your neighbor."

You look over your shoulder mid-mopping, "sorry, shop's not..."

You grip your mop tightly as the tall man raises a hand, "mornin'."

"... open yet."

His smirk is lopsided as he raises a brow, "not even for your stupid neighbor?"

Your stomach drops and blood rushes up your neck.

"Bloody hell," your friend's voice on loud speaker reverberates in your empty bake shop, "did your fit neighbor walk in?"

The said man chuckles and you nearly whack your phone with your mop. You quickly end the call and grit your teeth in embarrassment, unable to turn back to the red haired man that was laughing yet again.

"Fit neighbor, huh?"

You clear your throat as you decide to put a brave face on and feign ignorance. You turn to him with a dramatic hair flip and shrug.

Fred or George Weasely smiles then hums, crossing his arms. Which one he was, you couldn't tell. "Glad to know you find me fit, love."

"I-" you clear your throat, "that wasn't about you."

His brows quirk and his lips part. He scoffs in offence but his smile is still visible, "don't tell me you think I'm stupid and my brother's fit." He walks over, shaking his head, clicking his tongue, "you have terrible taste in men."

You snort to mask the feel of your face burning, then pretend mopping is more exciting you really think it is, "I-" you clear your throat as you clean the tiles in front of your cake display, "don't even know which one you are."

The sheer dramatics of his gasp forces you to look back at him. The Weasley has a fist on his chest, pretending he was stabbed. He grunts in faux pain, "you're telling me I look exactly like Fred?" He rests the back of his hand on his forehead and turns away, "the horrors."

The laugh he pulls out from you is dangerous. It's full and giddy. It's more than amusement, it's full blown endearment that makes your belly roll. You stifle your laughter with your sleeve, feeling warmth linger on your cheeks. Your heart races as he, as George, saunters in front of you, hands smoothly sliding into his pockets. He tilts his head with a sigh, "might have to get even for that terrible remark, my..." he looks around the shop, "sweet neighbor."

You look up at him, pursing your lips to withhold your smile. You shrug, "I doubt a boy named Georgie can do so much damage."

He snorts and shakes his head, "cheeky bugger."

You tense when he leans forward.

"Did you just dare me to do you some damage, sweetheart?"

You open your mouth, but a strangled gasp is all that leaves you because he places his hands atop yours as he takes your mop from you.

"I feel like you don't need anymore damage, considering you did just break a mug."

You stare at him as he haphazardly starts mopping around. Your belly reacts to how he circles around the mop and shoots you a grin. You gulp, "how did you know I broke a mug?"

"Pfft," he scoffs, straightening up, resting his elbow on the top of the mop. Damn, he was tall. "I heard it break. Why do you think I came over here? To check on you!"

Your brows furrow as he puts the mop aside, "how'd you know it was a mug though?"

Georgie shrugs, "well, cause I'm a genius."

You give him a look.

He mirrors your look, then slowly begins to lean forward again, "d'ya want me to prove it?"

Your heart races as you slowly lean back, "w-what? No?"

"Wicked," he grins, straightening up, "you think I'm a genius, do ya?"

"W-What?"

"I just called myself a genius and you agreed," he puts his hands in his pockets and moves towards your cake display. He points, "that looks really good."

You compose yourself by brushing your hair back, "shop's not open yet, genius."

Georgie turns to you with a grin. He breaks into a chuckle, "why not?"

"I'm still cleaning."

He looks around the room and pulls out his wand from his pocket, "I-"

"No!" you raise your hands, "I like cleaning!"

He lowers his wand.

"I don't have anything to do before opening, and cleaning, you know..." you trail off and look away.

"No, I don't actually," he tilts his head in interest, "cleaning what?"

You shrug as you look back at him, "it gives me something to do."

He purses his lips and raises his brows, "wouldn't you rather do something fun?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "that's easy for you to say. You own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Georgie shakes his head and raises his hands, "that's ex-"

"And you have your twin brother."

"... so?"

"You have someone to have fun with. I bet you never get homesick at all."

"Oh," he lowers his hands, "distraction for the loneliness, is it?"

You purse your lips and shrug, "yeah."

He offers you a soft smile, "I'm not a genius actually," he points his thumb over his shoulder, "your broken mug pieces are on your counter."

You turn to said object and counter, feeling bashful that you forgot about it, "oh, that's-"

"And I didn't come here because I heard you break it," he buzzes his lips then rubs his ear, "I don't think my ears are good enough for that."

You raise your brows, "I mean, I figured. I don't think anyone's ears are good enough for that."

"I did come here because I wanted to spend time with you."

You freeze.

"Want," he corrects, "I want to."

You feel blood rush up your face.

"That is," he motions vaguely and shrugs, "only if you want to take back what you said about me being the stupid one and Fred being the fit one."

"You think I'm fit?"

You both turn to the front door, only realizing now the bell had rung. Your face was burning, "I-"

"This isn't about you!"

Fred walks in, "oh, ho, ho, I do beg to differ."

Overwhelmed by the two Weasley men who begin to bicker in front of you, you step back unable to do anything but watch for a moment. That is until George says:

"No, I told you I think she's cute."

Fred scoffs, "I totally said she was cute first!"

"Keep lying, you liar."

"I literally told you the moment she w—"

"SHOP'S STILL CLOSED!" you blurt, making them turn to you. You gulp as they turn to you, and exaggeratedly clear your throat, "though I appreciate you both," cough, "think I'm cute, I have to prepare things."

"What things?" they ask in unison.

You stutter, "t-things!"

"I can help," they say at once, turning to each other, "Jinx. Double jinx. TRIPLE J-"

"GET OUT!" you point to the door, "respectfully."

The twins visibly deflate. George smacks Fred on the chest, "this is all your fault."

"Mine?" Fred scoffs, "you're the one that-"

You cut their bickering off short by pushing them towards the door. They begin to protest but do not try to overpower you to stay inside. You huff once you manage to kick them out and wave them goodbye.

"I thought we could drop by at any time for a cuppa?!" George calls out.

Fred huffs and cups the sides of his mouth, "liar!"

You chuckle softly under your breath, face warm as ever as you give them a look, "later! Once I open!"

They both huff and turn to each other. Fred says, "that's not any time, now is it."

"No, it isn't," George agrees.

[unclewaynemunson]

Something nameless is growing between Steve and Eddie. Steve wonders how long it'll take until this thing has a name, but for now, it's enough that it's just something. Something good. Something just for them. A secret of the most delicious kind.

He doesn't necessarily want to lie to Dustin, of course, but he doesn't really know what else to do. Not as long as this thing between him and Eddie is still nameless and Dustin is basically cornering him in the Hawkins High parking lot, way too enthusiastic about the fact that he's there to pick up Nancy.

'No, it's not a date, you little shrimp,' he repeats for what feels like the millionth time. And that statement couldn't be more true: he and Nancy are long past their weird post-breakup-end-of-the-world confusion. It's been good to reconnect with her and he's glad that they can truly be good friends, now.

Dustin shoots him an unimpressed glare and Steve groans in frustration when the boy opens his mouth to retort.

'I'm actually seeing someone else,' he says before Dustin can speak again. If he has to hear him say one more time that he should date either Nancy or Robin, he might actually punch him in the face. And he doesn't want to do that. Not really.

Dustin gasps.

'Why didn't you tell me?!'

'Because you're being annoying as shit about my love life,' Steve shoots back.

Dustin already opens his mouth for some smartass reply, but they get interrupted by a high-pitched scream. Steve whips his head only to find Eddie dramatically running towards them, limbs flailing and a huge grin on his face.

'Stevie!' he shouts out while crashing into Steve like a cannonball. Steve huffs, but is all too happy to catch him in his arms. He knows he shouldn't let his touch linger too long, not with Dustin right there, but it's really fucking difficult to pull back within an appropriate timeframe.

'What are you doing here?' Eddie looks hopeful, like he's suspecting that Steve came to the school for him.

'I'm meeting Nancy,' he admits, feeling almost guilty about it.

'He was just telling me about this girl he's seeing!' Dustin exclaims. 'Can you believe he didn't tell me? Did you know about this, Eddie?'

Eddie's smile falls off his face within a split second, and he takes a stumbling step backwards.

'You're seeing a girl?' His voice has gone cold. Betrayal shines from his big brown eyes.

'Eddie,' Steve starts, but he doesn't know what else to say – not with Dustin standing right there and hearing every word of their conversation.

'Go fuck yourself, Harrington.' He spits the words out and turns around, leaving Steve frozen and Dustin open-mouthed.

'Eddie, wait!' Steve calls out behind him, but Eddie only throws his arm up to flip him off, without looking back.

'Shit, fuck, damnit,' Steve mumbles under his breath as he runs after Eddie.

'Eddie, listen.' He grabs his leather-clad arm, but Eddie breaks himself free from Steve's grip with force. He finally looks at Steve again, tears in his eyes.

'I don't wanna hear it,' he says with a trembling voice as he reaches his van and climbs inside.

'But Dustin was–'

'Dustin was pretty damn clear.'

'No, it's all a –'

But Eddie slams the door shut while the word misunderstanding dies on Steve's tongue unheard. Steve watches helplessly how Eddie roughly wipes a hand over his face, puts his keys in the ignition as if he's stabbing someone, and drives off.

'Steve, what the fuck,' Dustin's voice says; when Steve looks to his right, he sees that Dustin has appeared next to him. 'He thought you were his friend! Why didn't you tell him about your girl?' It sounds accusatory, and Steve can't fucking deal with this right now.

'Why didn't you shut your goddamned big mouth for once in your life?' he snaps at him.

Dustin's eyes go wide with the surprise of Steve talking to him with that much venom in his voice; it's clear that he finally realizes he did something wrong.

'Steve, I – I didn't mean to – I didn't know he'd get mad!'

Steve sighs, long and heavy.

'Go home, Henderson,' he says stiffly.

He wishes that the genuinely apologetic look on Dustin's face would be enough to make it all good, but it isn't. Not as long as he still has the look in Eddie's eyes when he drove away burnt on his retina.

'I'm sorry, Steve.' And with slumped shoulders, Dustin turns around and trudges towards the bike racks.

Update: you can read pt2 here

[thanoskin]

FLICKERS OF YOU

( first post..kinda nervous… Enjoy! )

Pairing: Thanos x Nam-gyu

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

SFW

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

— It was lights out, there was a faint light down the hall of the large room, the remaining players, exhausted from the day’s game, sat in silence, no one dared to sleep after what just happened. Thanos leaned against the wall, his purple hair catching whatever small light there was. His hands were shaking, he needed to calm the fuck down.

Nam-gyu peered down at him from his bunk, the sharp click-click of the lighter was infuriatingly steady, like a clock counting down the moments to the next game. Nam-gyu clenched his fists, his nerves on high.

“Would you stop that?”

Thanos looked up at him, a grin plastered across his stupid, cute face. “What? Nervous, friend?”

“Big day tomorrow, could be your last.”

Nam-gyu scowled. “You think everythings a joke, don’t you?”

Thanos stood, pocketing his lighter as he stretched. “Not everything, just you.”

Nam-gyu glared at him, but Thanos just smirked, leaning against the bunk’s frame. “Relax,” Thanos said casually. “I’ve got a way to take the edge off. Come on.”

Nam-gyu scrambled off the bed, quickly following his lead like a lost puppy.

“where are we going?”

Thanos gestured toward the door. “The bathroom. I’ve got some cigs. Thought you might want one before… well, you know.”

Nam-gyu immediately got defensive as he continued to follow Thanos. “Why would I need….”

Thanos smirked again. “Because you need it. Or are you too scared to be alone with me?”

Nam-gyu brought his hand to his face to hide his blush as he followed Thanos, the tracksuit sleeve snug against his cheek.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Thanos kicked open the door and leaned against the wall by the sinks, pulling a slightly crumpled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He took a long drag before holding the pack out to Nam-gyu.

“Here.” Thanos held out the pack, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Nam-gyu hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t really smoke like that.”

"Figured,” Thanos said, flicking ash onto the floor. "You're too much of a good boy for that."

Nam-gyu bristled. "I'm not a 'good boy.”

Thanos chuckled, stepping closer.

“Oh, i know you’re not. But you sure like pretending to be.”

Nam-gyu's breath hitched as Thanos stopped just a step away, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of smoke.

Nam-gyu crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “You dragged me all the way here for this? You could’ve just smoked alone.”

Thanos chuckled, tapping ash onto the floor. “And miss the chance to see you squirm? Nah.”

Nam-gyu blushed again. “I’m not squirming.”

“Sure you’re not,” Thanos said, his tone amused.

“You’ve been on edge since the first game. Always looking over your shoulder, like you’re waiting for someone to stab you in the back.” He took another drag, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Let me guess, you think that someone is me, huh?”

Nam-gyu’s silence was answer enough. He loved Thanos to death, he’d do anything for him. His partner in crime, he couldn’t stand the thought of being abandoned and kicked out of his sight.

Nam-gyu’s pulse raced, his mouth dry. “Maybe you should focus on yourself instead of trying to analyze me.”

Thanos leaned in slightly, “Maybe I’d rather focus on you.”

Nam-gyu’s breath caught, his stomach twisting with anxiety and something else he didn’t want to name.

“Why are you doing this?”

Thanos hesitated for the first time.

“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care,” he admitted, his voice softer. “You drive me crazy. And not in the way this place does. I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Nam-gyu stared at him, his heart pounding. “You’re serious?” he felt as if Thanos was joking.

Thanos gave a lopsided grin. “Serious enough to tell you here, in the worst place imaginable.” He stepped back, giving Nam-gyu space. “I’m not expecting anything. Just thought you should know, okay?”

Nam-gyu swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “You’re still an ass,” he muttered, his cheeks visibly burning. He covered his hands with his sleeves nervously.

Thanos smiled, flicking the cigarette into the sink. “Yeah, but you’re blushing.”

Nam-gyu looked up, scowling. “I’m not.”

“Sure you’re not,” Thanos teased, stepping past him toward the door. “Come on, let’s get back before these guards thinks we’re up to something.” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Nam-gyu hesitated, the warmth in his stomach refusing to fade. With a sharp sigh, he followed, though he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

[lilgoblinbitch]

Gossip 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

rick grimes x fem!reader

part two here

a/n: i based this fic on this post here! i might make a part 2 because i have some ideas in the back of my head of how i think this story could end up going eventually, but idk if i will write it yet. we'll see! also i made up the two random alexandrians in this story :)

summary: rick overhears you and some alexandrian women gossiping, and he decides to confront you.

warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk).

wc: 1.5k

MDNI

“Spencer does not like me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You scoffed, taking another sip of the pinot. This was your second glass, and your head was starting to buzz.

Two Alexandrian women became well acquainted with you, offering you a bottle of wine and some dinner after your first week in Alexandria. You decided “why the hell not.” You never really had great friends before the apocalypse and the only ones you had were the group you came in with, so it wouldn’t harm you to make more.

“Oh honey, did you not notice the way he was ogling you at Deanna’s party?” One of them asked — her name was Shannon. The other woman, Vivian, slightly chuckled, taking one last swig from her glass. She nodded, muttering something in agreement.

You sighed. “Even if he was checking me out, it’s not like I care anyway...”

The two women paused simultaneously, looking up at you with ‘bitch, HUH?’ written on their faces. “Y/n, Spencer is a beautiful man! He’s tall, handsome, and he’s around your age I believe,” Vivian gushed. You scowled, displeased at the comment.

You took another gulp from your glass, emptying the contents down your gullet and then setting it on the kitchen island. After licking your lips clean, you said, “Well, frankly, I don't really care if I’m being quite honest.” Your mind swirled with inebriated thoughts; you sort of had a love-hate relationship when it came to alcohol — it either made you perfectly giddy and sociable or very angsty and erratic. But that’s what it did to most people, anyway. Right now, it was making you angsty. “I have someone else on my mind.”

“Oh, my! Okay, who is it?” Shannon asked, her and Vivian both on the edge of their chairs anticipating what you were about to say — well, what they expected you to tell them, that is.

You thought for a moment; should you tell them? It seemed like they lived for that kind of gossip. But that could mean that they might spill your secret, and you weren't exactly ready for that. “I’ll tell you another time. I’m tired, gonna head to bed,” you stated, yawning as you got up from the stool you were seated on. The two women groaned in disappointment, like children who failed to convince their parents to take them to disney world.

After your friends left you strutted out of the kitchen, about to head upstairs when you heard a door open and shut. Instinctively you ran back to the kitchen to grab a knife to defend yourself from a possible intruder or walker, but before you could your body collided with something, or rather someone.

You cursed and looked up at the culprit; it was none other than Rick Grimes. “Rick, what the fuck! I could have stabbed you!” You scolded him, picking up the knife that clattered on the ground. 

“You forget we live together?” He teased, taking a step back to get a good look at you. Your eyes were glassy and eyelids heavy — a telltale sign that you were drunk. Rick had experience pulling over a few drunkards back in his day as a cop, so he knew immediately without even having to smell the alcohol oozing from your breath that you weren’t sober.

You pushed a strand of hair out of your face, swallowing the excess saliva forming in your mouth. You mentally scolded yourself for drooling over a man, but this one was just too beautiful to not gawk at. The sound of Rick clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance and brought you back to reality. “No, no. I didn’t forget. I just…”

“You’re just drunk, right?” He chuckled, turning his head to look at the empty bottle of wine sitting on the dining room table. You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your lip while trying to think of a plausible excuse. 

“Look, I only had two glasses. Shannon and Vivian from a few houses down brought us a casserole and some pinot. Girls’ night. Sue me, Rick.” You slipped past him and headed to the kitchen, Rick hot on your tail. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you or Carl want any,” You said without turning around. When you got to the kitchen sink you started washing the dishes, but you frowned slightly, looking back up at Rick with worrying eyes. 

“Shit. Did I wake the kids? Is that why you’re down here?” You turned off the faucet, wiping your hands hastily on a dry towel. 

Rick shook his head. “No. Only I heard you. But you weren’t very quiet, and when I heard them leave that’s when I came down here,” he explained, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Your heart picked up its pace. ‘How much did he hear?’ You wondered. You pursed your lips and your eyes floated around the room, quite obviously avoiding his intense stare. He made you nervous. That sheriff always made you nervous, and part of the reason was because you were so utterly attracted to him. 

Finally you brought your eyes back to his icy ones, which were studying your body. You blushed and bit your lip again — it was a nervous habit you could never seem to break. “You got a stain–” Rick pointed to the red stain on your shirt, just below your breasts, “Right there.”

You looked down at the stain, it was wine — dark red wine, at that. And you were wearing a white tank top. How convenient.

You looked back up at him, snorting in slight amusement. “Guess I shouldn’t have worn white, huh?”

He let out a low chuckle, showcasing his pearly smile. God, he was pretty. “Thought you knew better than that, Y/n,” he joked, standing back up fully to make his way over to you. Okay, now your heart was really beating fast. 

When he was finally in front of you, face to face, you gulped. He smelled like the forest after a rainshower, and somehow he always did; it engulfed you like a tsunami. You berated yourself for getting so worked up over the smell of him, and just him in general. He was your leader, your friend. And he asked you to live with him and his children because he trusted you. Why were you acting like a cat in heat? ‘It’s the alcohol’, you convinced your mind, it had to be…

The silence was too loud. You had no idea what Rick was thinking right now; frankly, you never did. His poker face was always unreadable. But your tipsy brain gained a few confidence points, letting smugness wash over you.

“Whatcha thinking about, Grimes?” You shifted your weight to one leg and batted your lashes at the man in front of you. He only grinned, then glanced away momentarily only to stare back into your eyes. 

“Y’know, I overheard the conversation,” Rick started, his chest steadily moving up and down as he breathed. One of his hands gripped the counter while the other was glued to his hip. Your eyes trailed up and down his tanned veiny arms, taking in his manliness.

“Mhm. And?” You kept your composure, not wanting to let Rick taunt you; you knew you talked pretty loud when you were tipsy or drunk but it’s not like you said anything negative about him or anyone.

“You girls like to gossip, huh?”

“Well, yeah. We’re women,” you joked, cracking a smile and trying to ease the tension a bit. “What are you trying to get at?” Rick never bothered to indulge in any girl gossip you, Rosita, and Maggie used to partake in, so why was he so invested now?

Little did you know, he was always invested in literally anything you had to say.

Rick licked his lips and exhaled through his nose. “Heard you talking about liking someone. Is it anyone I know?”

He smirked when he noticed how red you turned. Your face would have matched the stain on your shirt if it was a few shades darker. “I– I don’t…” Of course now was the time to choke on your words, right when you were using every fiber of your being to keep your poise in check. But goddamnit, Rick just had to be a sly and cocky bastard.

“I don’t remember even saying anything about that, Rick.”

His smirk never faded. You wanted to slap it off his face, then kiss the hell out of him. 

He tilted his head to the side a bit, furrowing his brows as if to challenge your statement. “Really?”

You nodded and crossed your arms right over the stain. ‘Deny, deny, deny,’ You repeated in your head.

But he didn’t buy your bullshit. He brought his hand to your cheek, fingers barely grazing your skin as if he was afraid he’d scare you away. Your breath hitched in your throat and subsequently dropped your arms to your sides, separating your lips to say something. However, nothing came out.

“Well, I think I know your secret, Y/n. Answer seems pretty clear to me.” His voice almost came out as a growl from how low and raspy it was. Goosebumps awakened all across the surface of your body. You were tongue tied. 

“I’m the one on your mind, aren’t I?”

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Hi!! Saw your post🤭 What about reader tending to Bucky's wounds? And being all soft with him😭 It could be fluffy and ending with something else👀🫣

Thank you for the request! I've been wanting to write for bucky for a while lol I really hope you like it <3 I kind of have a part two in my head that I might do for this

He stumbled through the hall, trying to get to his apartment before passing out. He didn't mean to lean against your door. He didn't want you to know he just got home. Hell, he didn't even want you to know he had gotten hurt tonight. You were the sweetest person to ever come into his life, his cute, sweet, caring neighbor. Thinking of you made his heart skip a beat lately. He met you when you first moved into the building, and he felt drawn to you ever since. You asked him to help you build a bookshelf, and you repaid him with homemade bread. How could he not be drawn to you after that?

He groans both in pain and at hearing your footsteps walking towards your front door. He was still leaning against the door when you opened it. You weren't expecting someone to fall into your arms when you opened your door, but looking down at Bucky, you were grateful that you caught him.

"Bucky!?" Your voice was filled with confusion and concern. Bucky was clearly bleeding heavily, the side of his white shirt was turning bright red, and through a groan, he gave a guilty smile, "Hi doll." He cringed at your scoff, "Don't doll me when you're bleeding in my arms. " You helped him get to your bathroom and helped him sit on the edge of your bathtub.

"I'm really sorry, doll." He mumbled while trying to take off his shirt to make your job easier. His eyes followed your figure as it bounced around, trying to find your first aid kit. You finally calmed down once you do find the first aid kit, and you settle between his legs to clean his wounds.

"Do I want to know what happened?" You whispers break the uneasy silence that was settling in. He winced at the thought of telling you what he had to do earlier. "We don't have to talk about it," you assured him as you bandaged the wound in his side, "We can just get you cleaned up, and I can make something to eat? Maybe we can watch a movie that's on your list. " He smiled softly, hearing your assurance.

"I have been wanting to watch a movie, I think Sam said it's about some pretty lady." You giggled at the misprounced movie title, "pretty women?" You asked, already knowing what he meant. He nodded sheepishly, making you nod with him while you pushed his hair back to start washing the blood off of his forehead. "You got it sergeant." A blush dusted his face quickly when you leaned down and kissed his now clean forehead. "Come on, let's get you more comfy. You can stay over tonight." You showed him to your bedroom as you ramble about ordering a pizza so you can watch more movies. You turned to ask him what he thought, but you were taken back when he was already watching you.

"What? Is everything ok?" You asked worried that he was in pain, he shook his head with a goofy smile forming, "nothings wrong doll."

Nothing was wrong. He may have been stabbed earlier that day, but he just realized he may be falling in love again. Nothing could be wrong with that happening.

A/n: I don't have a taglist for bucky, but lmk if i should make one! Request for bucky and Logan howlett are still open. Please send more ideas. I love getting them, and it really helps with my motivation. <3 If you did like my work, please reblog and comment. I really appreciate it. I'm going to start working on a bucky masterlist, so keep an eye out for that

[littlerequiem]

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 2

> Crossposted on AO3

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

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

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Descriptions of the Rumbling (WC: 7k)

( Previous chapter / Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

-

It’s past curfew when you catch a glimpse of Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary. He's been coming up here this past week, though this is the first time you approach him.

“You gonna tell anyone?” Levi asks. He’s playing with a small pocket knife, twirling it in his hand.

You consider his question. No doubt Erwin would want to know about his new gamble sneaking away from the barracks every evening. Then again, knowing Erwin, he might already know and chooses to just let it slide anyway.

You lean your weight over the edge of the window sill, gazing at the way moonlight crowns Levi's hair. “Are you going to hurt anyone with that knife?”

Levi's eyes twinkle in the night. “What, just because I’m from the Underground means I’m gonna stab someone?”

“Actually,” you say carefully, “I was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

His eyes lose their fire; he focuses back on his knife. “I won’t.”

.

.

.

Freedom—it is the ability to glimpse at endless blue skies; it is horse riding until dusk; it is choices and opinions and being able to voice them.

These days, Levi takes it for granted, his freedom. He’s an ungrateful asshole like that.

If the people from his childhood would hear him now, they would spit in his face. Try to beat him to a pulp. Here he is, lacking gratitude, when some poor lowlife was born and died in that shit hole that was the Underground.

Levi hears that the Underground doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve told him that the Rumbling caused earthquakes to fracture the ground, that much of the subterranean city has been buried under. There were some casualties, of course, but the worst could be avoided since Queen Historia had ordered a gradual evacuation years prior.

Levi wonders if the people now discovering life above ground still have violence in their blood the way he once did when he first saw the sun.

“Levi, where is your secret tea stash?”

Your question muffles over the sound of the kettle groaning awake on the gas stove, blending with the sound of waves crashing outside. It tears him right out of his thoughts and away from the headline he'd been reading: 'More than 75% of refugees in Marley now rehoused, much work still remains in the mental aftermath of the war'.

Levi has been up for several hours now, breakfast long since consumed. You, on the other hand, just got up, the whisks of sleep still present in your cadence, in the corners of your eyes. An anomaly to be sure—Levi remembers you being an early riser, but he supposes that habits, just like people, change.

“Why would I have a secret tea stash?” 

You yawn, a hand covering your mouth. “Well... you always had a secret tea stash, didn't you?”

“To hide from cadets and their grubby fingers. I’m all alone here.”

“Mm." You shrug, words a little slurred. "You could still want to hide a thing or two from me.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell ya where it was, would I?” Levi leans one elbow over the kitchen table, chin lazily resting on the center of his palm. His index finally pokes out to give directions. “S’on the left side, second cupboard.”

Your gaze follows his directive, only to look at him with a slightly more straight posture. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” You stick your tongue out, like a damn child. “Words. They help.”

Levi refrains from rolling his eyes. He watches you open the cupboard, grabbing the tin of loose tea leaves.

On the chair next to him, Scout is curled up and fast asleep. The kitten's muzzle scrunches as she dreams.

“Are you sure I'm allowed to drink this?” 

Levi's eyes flicker back towards you. You're facing him, looking uncertainly at the tea.

“Yeah," he says. 

"But isn't this special? Isn't this tea from Paradis?"

It is tea from Paradis, courtesy of Armin. It's one of Levi's last boxes, in fact. He knows he'll eventually run out of it, and while he supposes he could ask for more of it, he thinks his taste buds will just need to adapt to something else. That's just the way life goes.

"You know," he mutters, "if you’re gonna be like this about every little thing around the house, it's gonna get tiring real fast.”

You focus on the tea preparation, turning away from him. “I’m just being polite."

“Why? You never bothered before."

"Ouch. Harsh.”

"S'not," Levi mumbles, running a hand through his hair. It’s freshly washed, still a bit damp. "I mean, no need to act all fake and shit."

"Okay... but this isn't like life in the Survey Corps. This is your house."

His house. Levi doesn't know if he should be more possessive about these things, the way he's seen some townspeople be with their possessions, but Levi's just never been one to care about these things. He never has.

Levi flips his newspaper to the next page. "So long as you keep the place clean, I don’t care about the rest."

“You don’t care?”

You've turned back in his direction, and his eyes meet yours. There's a spark in your gaze.

Oh you’re taunting him.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest. "Drill this into your head, Adler: anything that’s mine is yours, so just treat this place as such.”

That seems to shut you right up. You blink with a dumbfounded expression, apparently startled by his (accidental, Levi swears it was accidental) turn of phrasing. It’s soon replaced by words uttered beneath your breath, words Levi doesn’t quite grasp because his own ears are whistling. He returns his attention back to the newspaper, attempting to shrug off the weight of the innuendo.

Anything that’s mine is yours. What a stupid thing to say. That almost sounded like a confession or some shit. One day in, and Levi's already screwing up with his words.

For the next minute, Levi tries his damn best to focus on his newspaper.

“Getting her beauty rest, huh?” Levi looks up; you're placing two cups of tea on the table, one pushed towards him, along with a plate for the infusers. You're eying Scout. “She seems glued to your side,” you muse, sitting down.

“Kittens sleep a lot,” Levi supplies lamely.

“In any case, it’s cute to see the two of you together.”

Levi turns the handle of his cup to his left side. “Please.”

“Can you imagine what everyone would say? The fearless Captain Levi, succumbing to a cat—”

"Quit talking and just drink your tea, would you?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Aye, aye, captain."

For a moment, silence does fall, and his peripheral catches your chest rising and falling, something oddly quaint and peaceful about witnessing your breathing. You take to staring outside the window, looking at the view of the sea glimmering in the distance. He follows your line of sight, noting that there’s a buildup of crusted salt around the windows; Levi should really clean it off before summer ends.

“Hey, so,” you interrupt after a while, “I was thinking of going to the market today. Get a few things. Maybe find a job.”

Levi locks eyes with you. “A job?” 

“Mm. Yeah. Something that makes sense for me...”

You want to get back to the medical field, already? You just got here.

“Why the hurry?"

“Well…" you say, "I don’t want to leech off you forever—”

“You're not.”

“Still, it'd be good for me, right?” You shoot a bright smile—something too bright about it. Levi's eyes narrow. “Anyway, you wanna join or what? You know... I’d love to meet all the nosy people you’ve told me about.”

Levi purses his lips, feeling as though you glossed over that subject much too quickly. A part of him wants to nudge you a bit, though his usual habit to just let you be kicks in. Whatever you're hiding, you have your reasons.

Levi considers your proposal. He knows it would be better if he didn’t join, seeing how damn foolish he’s already acting around you. He should try to set clear boundaries with you.

And yet—

“Sure,” comes out of him all the same.

Well, so much for that, anyway.

.

.

.

“You flew.”

You stand there, staring at the sight of the man as he finishes his round of training.

Levi shoots you a look, grappling with the hand grips. “I’m just using the ODM gear correctly.”

You take a step towards him. “No, but you’re amazing. You must know that, right? I’m not a soldier, but… I know talent when I see it.”

He gives you an odd look then, and before you have a chance to say anything else, propels himself in the air and disappears into the shadows of the forest.

.

.

.

At the market, Levi follows you around like a brooding shadow.

He’s in his wheelchair today. Behind him, you’re pushing him and asking questions about the scenery and the people and all sorts of trivial things.

(“Look, look there, all these teas. Have you tried any of them?”

“Some.”)

(“I'm gonna buy some flowers to plant in the gardens. Is that alright?”

“Do what you want.”)

(“Is the sea always as pretty?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, there's shit that gets carried in.”

"How poetic.")

(“Look, Levi! A car.”

“It looks dangerous.”

“I think I’d like to try driving. Get over my fear, you know?”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Hey, give me some credit! S’not so different from riding a horse, right?”

“You’ve got a few screws loose up there, you know that?”)

Well, Levi was never great at talking. Not that you seem to mind; you’ve always liked to ask him questions and fill in the blanks when needed. Most of the time, it’s the silence that sits comfortably between the two of you that Levi appreciates so much anyway. It just is, like a soft cloud fills the sky with shapes.

You're now moving next to him, calmly taking in the sight of the buzzing market. It's a little too busy for Levi's liking, but the sight of you distracts him: you’re wearing a sunhat with ribbons, coupled with your cotton overalls. Levi’s never seen you wear a hat like this one before, but he thinks it suits you.

“You should protect your skin from the sun,” you said earlier. “That’s why I wear a hat.”

“I didn’t come to the surface to run away from the sun,” he grumbled back, even if he did notice how warm summers in Marley truly are (and yes, he’d gotten sunburned on several occasions, and also yes, his injured eye stings every time the sun shines too brightly... but, still, Levi wouldn’t budge).

“Good morning, dear boy! What a surprise to see you here!” someone says, tearing Levi out of the thoughts.

Attached to that booming voice is none other than Levi's boss, Adam Jakowski.

Originally an Eldian from Marley, Mr Jakowski was one of the first residents that settled here in Mare. He quickly opened his carpentry shop, and when Levi moved in, he found a job there.

Today, however, Mr Jakowski isn't here for any carpentry-related trades. Every week-end, the man likes to come here and share the goods his wife makes.

"What brings you here?" Mr Jakowski asks.

“I was dragged out, believe it or not,” Levi answers, head bobbing towards you.

Next to him, he hears you snort.

“And who might this pretty young lady be? Are you the missus Ackerman, perchance?” Mr Jakowski asks, his tone carrying a curiosity only people genuinely interested in others are capable of mustering.

Levi feels his cheeks burn at the idea, but you just chuckle, swatting a hand in the air to dispel the notion. “No such thing, sir. But I am new to town and it pleases me all the same to make your acquaintance. Miss Adler, charmed to meet you.”

Levi’s thin brows knit together. It’s the first time he hears you introduce yourself without your profession tied in.

Miss Adler. Not Dr Adler.

Strange.

“Well met, Miss Adler… Well met, indeed! Ah, it is a pleasure to see new faces in Mare, especially a lovely one such as yours. Will you be staying here for a while?”

“Mm. Who knows?” You smile. “I can’t quite say yet, to tell the truth.”

Levi’s throat suddenly feels a little thick.

“Anyway, what are you selling here, sir?” you ask, peering over the stall of the merchant, gazing at all the products and zeroing on a particular one: a red paste.

“The one you're eying is a paste from the eastern part of Marley, ma'am. It’s made with paprika and bell-peppers, you see. Great for inflammations and stomach issues,” the old man explains. He makes you smell it, then turns around to sprinkle it onto something. “You can coat it like so,” he raises a piece of bread that he smears with the red paste, “or add it to your cooking.”

He hands you the toast.

You bite into it, chewing for several moments as you raise a hand over your mouth. “Walls! It does have such a particular taste. It’s the aftertaste, right? Spicy.”

Your eyes wander to meet Levi’s, and you raise the bread slightly in his direction as if to inquire if he wants to taste it as well. Levi shakes his head, and you shoot him a smile, gulping down the rest of the food.

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, drumming his left index in a series of five taps over his forearm—tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Next to him, he hears the way you engage in easy conversation, talking about the weather, how the region has adjusted to the influx of settlers, how you're looking for a job and how, yes, you’d love to meet his wife and daughter!

The rest flies over his head. Instead, Levi looks up at your sunhat again, admiring the way it hugs the shape of your skull, the way the ribbons flow gently with the breeze.

Levi wonders if he could buy you a hat. Or sew you a new ribbon. Would you accept his gifts?

At last, you seem convinced of the product and order three jars. This is the moment when Levi comes back to his senses, seeing you rummage through your pockets to find coins to pay for your purchase.

No such luck.

Levi beats you to it, slinging out the leather pouch his first squad gifted him many years ago, placing the change in Mr Jakowski's hands.

You blink, mouth parted, but Levi just plops the jars he receives into your bag, wheeling himself back.

He hears you fumble your goodbyes to Mr Jakowski, thanking him for his help, and at once, your voice is in his ears.

“Levi, why did you just pay?” you ask, tone bewildered.

“Don’t make a big deal out of nothing.”

“I’m not." You stop in front of him, all stern-looking, hands on your hips. "You didn’t have to do that.”

Levi raises a defiant brow. “But I did, and it’s done.”

“Don’t make it sound so simple. You’re already letting me stay in your house for free. I intend to pay my dues, you know. I have money.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“You—”

“Complain again and I won’t let you pay for a damn thing.”

You close your mouth, glaring at him.

Levi swears he hears something along the lines of ‘I’ll just sneak it back into your pockets later’ whispered under your breath, but when he narrows his eyes in your direction, you feign a look of innocence.

After purchasing everything you wanted to purchase—a book on art, flower beds for the garden—you finally settle in a cozy little café on the town’s square. You order some pastries, while Levi takes his usual tea, the closest thing that resembles the tea from back home. You watch people from everywhere bustle by while Levi sips on his drink.

“Hey, look!” you point out suddenly. “I’ve never seen those birds before.”

You've pointed to a flock of birds of all colors, no larger than a fist. They’re hopping on the ground, scavenging for food. You get up, asking for some seeds from a waiter to feed them.

“Why did they migrate to this part of the world?” you wonder as you lay out food for them.

Levi doesn’t know what to say. He stares at the birds, nibbling the seeds, admiring the way their feathers seem foreign in this strange land.

Maybe, Levi thinks to himself, just like all the rest of this town, the birds were looking for a new home.

.

.

.

“You know, you should try to teach them.”

Levi’s bored expression swerves in your direction. You’re back to leaning on the window sill, while he sits on the rooftop. A routine, these last weeks.

“What?” Levi mutters.

“Your combat skills. I saw you at training again. I’ve never seen anything quite like the way you handle yourself. You should teach the other cadets.”

His eyes narrow. “Why would I do that?”

“You’ve been out there, right? Seen what the titans are like? You could save their lives.”

.

.

.

The square of Mare is quiet at this time of the evening. A half-moon hangs lazily over the black sky, casting its silver glow over Mare.

You’ve both been drinking. Cheap, bubbly, acidic. Cremant, a drink native to Marley. It was given to you by a shopkeeper when you picked up bread earlier—all it took was seeing you by his side and hearing you were new in town. The woman practically threw the bottle at you, offering it as a welcome gift. You tried to refuse, many times over, but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer (“We need young blood around, so anythin’ to convince younglings like yourself to settle down!”).

Now, here you are, finishing the bottle together in a park. Levi sits with you on a bench, his wheelchair tucked behind it.

Silence.

Levi thinks there’s something on your mind. You’ve never been easy to read; you’ve got a tendency to hide and scheme, to play it off like it’s no big deal, but it’s always your lips that give you away. You bite them when you’re worried, you pout when you’re deep in thoughts.

“Hey.” Levi raises your attention, only to find gentle eagerness on your face. It makes him frown for some reason. “Say something.”

You seem a little taken aback by his directive. It’s rare for Levi to actually seek conversation after all, much less to be the one initiating it.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask.

Levi shrugs. “I don’t know, just anything.”

“Like… what?”

Levi mulls it over. If it were him, he’d hate to be put on the spot and asked outright what to say. So he decides to try a tactic he’s seen you use on others—starting with something light before finding the right angle to tackle the actual subject.

“What was your favorite sight?” he inquires. “On your travels.”

“My… favorite sight?”

Levi gives you a look that makes it clear he’s not gonna repeat himself.

“The sea, of course.” You raise your feet on the bench, hugging your knees as you stare off pensively. “It’s funny, really. With every nation we visited, we saw mountains, deserts and forests… but I kept coming back to the sea.”

Levi remembers the first time he saw the sea. The water, glimmering like thousands of silver gems. The blue sky, coming to meet its shine. The 104th brats, with awestruck wonder. Hange and their brazen curiosity.

And you, the way you’d looked at him…

If ever there was a moment of peace during Levi’s years as a soldier, it was those blissful hours spent by the sea. It felt like the world had grown so big, and that there was only wonder to be discovered.

Of course, reality had caught up.

“I’m glad you’ve picked a place like this one to settle down,” you say. "It kind of feels like a homecoming, you know?"

"Yeah."

“The stars are so bright out here.”

Levi follows your line of sight.

This past year, Levi has rediscovered an admiration for stars. Back inside the Walls, they reminded him of Isabel and Furlan, of his dreams from another life. This past year, they’ve started making him think of you, too.

All because of one of your letters: 'Levi, do you ever think about the fact that, despite the distance that separates us, every night, when we look at the sky, we see the same stars?'

“What else,” he finds himself asking, “what else do you have to say about your travels?”

“Hmm… what do you want to know exactly? I wrote so much in my letters, I’d have thought you’d be tired of hearing about that topic.”

“Yeah, but you only described random shit. What was it like?”

What was it like without me?

That thought hangs on his tongue, begs for relief, but Levi bites it down. It’s not right for him to ask; it's none of his business.

And yet, your answer still takes him by surprise, “It was… hard.”

At that, Levi does raise a brow. He finds your gaze already on him.

“The sights were... nice, of course,” you explain. “I got to witness all manners of landscapes. Those were the photographs I sent you in my letters. But then, well, the rest came.”

You swallow loudly. Levi finds his heart squeezing, though he doesn’t fully understand why.

“Seeing the aftermath of the Rumbling…” Your lower lip quivers as the volume of your tone decreases. “It was horrifying. The emptiness was the worst. It’s not like murdering someone in cold blood, see. There, you have to deal with bodies. But, what Eren did…”

You shudder. Levi thinks you’re trying to even out your breathing, and a part of him wants to reach out to you and squeeze your hand. And yet, he knows there’s nothing he can do to really alleviate those images flashing in your brain. That nothing he does can make it right again, that the pain you feel is the cost both of you need to bear for the rest of your lives.

“After that, I went with Armin because I knew he would need help, because I always believed in diplomacy… because I still believe in it. Even now," you say. "But many nations hate the Eldians from Paradis. They hate us and maybe they have every right to hate us.”

You stop talking and close your eyes. For a while, the lull in conversation allows Levi to stare at you unabashedly, to commit your features to memory.

“Why did you never say any of this in your letters?” he asks mid-silence.

“I guess it felt easier not to mention it. I don’t know. I wanted you to hear hopeful things in my letters.”

“I’ve seen how shitty the world can be.”

“I know, but that’s exactly why.” Your eyes somehow find his own again. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know it’s still the same out there.”

It makes Levi’s blood rush, like he was some breakable thing that needed to be protected. “You don’t need to coddle me.”

And yet, you don’t even seem to notice the snap in his tone, your crossed arms tightening around your knees.

“I know, Levi,” you whisper. “But that doesn’t mean that my pain is your burden to bear.”

Seeing your deflated expression, dipped chin resting over your knees as you lose yourself to your thoughts, Levi’s defense mechanism fizzles away.

That’s the thing about you.

No matter how harshly he reacts, you never seem to rise to the same level as him, the way others did in the military, and it might be why Levi always found it easier to stay by your side.

“You dumbass,” he says with a sigh. Despite telling himself to hone it back, Levi can’t help but raise a hand to the back of your skull, ruffling your head gently—the only comfort he knows how to hand out right now. “Of course that’s my burden.”

The knot in your throat bobs. “Levi, you don’t—”

“Don’t give me that.” He pauses, the words heavy on his tongue. “Even I no longer have the rank to prove it… what does it matter? Nothing’s changed.”

Your voice comes out grated. “Nothing’s changed?”

Levi hesitates. So much hangs on this question. Of course, things have changed.

And yet…

Levi retreats his hand, patting his stiff leg. “Some things did.”

“Oh... does it still hurt a lot?”

“Some days more than others. The doctor has helped.”

“I’m glad. Are you still seeing him every other week?”

He nods.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Levi's eyes narrow. “You said that already.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He sighs, shaking his head. “Anyway, you gonna tell me why you stopped calling yourself a doctor?”

Different degrees of surprise flash across your face. Your eyes are wide as saucers, while your mouth stays slightly open.

Levi waits... and waits.

“Hey, you’re not trying to catch flies, are you?” he says, lifting a finger to poke at your chin.

His physical reminder seems to bring you back to the present.

At once, a pout forms on your lips. “How did you know I no longer want to be a doctor?”

Levi shrugs with one arm, pressing his back against the bench. “I guessed, and you just confirmed it.”

“I didn’t think you’d notice so quickly." You let out a wry snort, shaking your head. "Should have known; you’re always so perceptive.”

“And you’re beating around the bush.”

“Indeed, I am. It’s just… I’m scared of your judgment.”

At that, Levi has to frown. 

“Don’t give me that look, Levi Ackerman. Your judgment, yes. You’re a very scary man, just not for all the reasons people think you are.”

In the distance, the sound of seagulls drifts from the skies. 

“When I asked you if I could come here…” you say after a moment, “I kept on thinking to myself: What will Levi think of me?” You raise one hand to your face, glancing at the scar that runs from your index to the lower part of your palm—a memento left by the Yaegerists. “What will he think of this hand?”

Levi stays silent.

Your smile turns bitter. “You always said my hands were made for healing. But after everything that happened, everything we did, they’re not anymore. They can’t be.”

“Hey—”

“—and the question kept playing in a loop in my head. Will Levi think I’m a coward? Will he think less of me for giving up on this? Is he gonna be done with me?”

Levi ignores all the ways you seem to include him in your insecurities and focuses on one thing only: “You’re a lot of things but a coward isn’t one of them.”

You shake your head. “But I am a coward. I don’t have it in me to heal people, not like that anymore.”

Levi doesn’t know why, but there’s suddenly a sense of dread forming in his pit of his stomach. “Is that why you’re here?” 

Your eyes fire back on him. “No, I didn’t come here to escape, or as a last resort.” You glance away. “But I do feel… lost.”

That makes Levi backtrack. You? Lost? The doctor who blazed through the Survey Corps’ ranks, making her demands known to the Interior and Erwin like it was no big deal, who pushed for changes to save soldiers' lives?

That doesn’t align with the person he knows.

“I don’t think it’s right anymore, the path I chose.” Your tone is suddenly more frail, more vulnerable. “The first three years after the Rumbling, it felt like the right thing to do, giving my skills in helping others but now… Now I feel like a fraud. To arrive here, I had to end lives.”

Levi’s throat is heavy. “We all did.”

You ignore his words. “The attack in Trost, the one in Liberio, and so many others…. I killed people there. I did. And I remember your words, Levi, about it being us or them but I… now, whenever I look at my hands, all I see is the stain of blood. After all of that, I just don’t think I’m fit to call myself a doctor anymore.”

“You shouldn’t regret the past.”

“Maybe. But it's easier said than done.”

“Is that why you’re now calling yourself Miss Adler?”

You nod.

Levi purses his lips. He cannot understand your perspective, not truly, because his own moral compass has never been set right. To him, killing was always about survival and there was never good or bad. There simply was the act and the aftermath. There was the fact that he needed to keep on pushing, for humanity.

Despite this, Levi wants to understand. He wants to tell you that your hands did heal, that they continue to heal in invisible ways. He wants to tell you that however you want to become want, it’s all fine to him.

“Then start over,” he declares, throwing an arm to the back of the bench.

“Yeah.” You snort, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric of your overalls. “It’s not that easy, starting over, is it?”

“Never said it was.” Levi would know. It’s not like he’s here to preach the moral high ground. “But if you want to, you’re the only one that can make it happen.”

“Yeah, I know.” You raise a hand to press against your right eye. Levi has the strange urge to tuck it away, to take it in between his own, but he holds himself back. “It’s just… hard. You know, when we were fighting titans, then humans, then nations… I just never considered who I would be after all of it. And when I found myself trying, I found I wasn’t the person I once was, that I couldn’t do what I would have done any more. You know?”

“Yeah.”

“Old me would have kept on going. Old me would have continued to heal people and traveled and helped Armin with peace negotiations. And I tried. Walls, I tried, Levi. But at the end of the day, I just find myself… tired. I’m just so tired.”

Something heavy fills Levi’s chest. He understands, to a degree, what you’re going through. He knew his role was over the moment that the fighting stopped, but for you, the war hasn’t stopped raging—conflicted on where your place should be.

“Sorry," you say, "I know I’m wallowing here, that I’m throwing my own pity party. But, shit, it’s hard, you know?”

“Yeah. But it’s fine, to wallow. No one expects you not to have setbacks.”

“You don’t mean that. Weren’t you always telling soldiers not to linger and look back? Besides, I don’t get to say any of this in front of you. Not with everything you went through.”

Levi’s jaw clenches. “Hey. It’s not a competition.”

This time, he reaches for your hand and unclasps it, noticing you digging your nails into your skin. He forces you to squeeze his hand instead—only, now, you treat him with such care, not even applying pressure.

Levi takes it as his cue to drive his point home, “I only said what I said because a Scout’s life was a battlefield every day. But we’re not soldiers anymore.”

He sucks in a breath at those words; he realizes it’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud: We're not soldiers anymore. Levi's a hypocrite, saying these things, when he himself hasn’t let go completely. And yet, for your sake, he wants to pretend—he wants to pretend that there’s a way out for the both of you.

“So I’ve told you, the offer still stands," he adds. "You can stay here for as long as you want."

“Careful what you promise, Levi." You snort. "I’m going to be a real burden to you.”

“Only when you don’t clean.”

Your weak snicker turns into laughter. It might be the most enchanting of sounds Levi’s heard in a long while.

Levi lets go of your hand, despite the fact that he wishes he could hold on, but he tells himself that friends don’t hold each other’s hands for prolonged moments. And that's what the two of you are. Friends.

“You know, when it came down to it… after months of introspection,” you say, voice soft, “all I knew is that I wanted to be near you.”

Oh.

“I stayed away for a year, thinking I could prove to myself, to you, that I wasn’t the needy person I once was," you say. "That I could, I don’t know, manage on my own. But all I got was… how much I missed you.”

Levi thinks his breathing might have stopped entirely.

“Levi, you’re… you’re important to me. You know that, right?” Your eyes find his own, glimmering under the moonlight. “I think… I just don’t want to not have you in my life anymore. Is that a strange thing to say?”

Levi is speechless. He stares at your lips, how plump and lovely they seem, glistening with moisture. He feels sweat on his back—damn this hellish warm weather—and he thinks perhaps he should act.

He forces his mouth open but instead of words—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

An explosion blasts in his ears.

Levi screws his eyes shut, bracing himself for the impact. There’s screams echoing in the back of his skull, bullets ricocheting against concrete. He smells the charred scent of bodies, sweet and off-putting.

But the fighting never comes. When he evens out his breathing, leaning his weight onto the bench, he notices—

You’re on the floor.

Your hands are covering your ears, your lower lip wobbling. You’re muttering things under your breath, things Levi can’t recognize, but there’s tears brimming the corner of your eyes, and Levi realizes then what happened.

You’re hyperventilating.

At once, Levi is by your side, bending down. The action causes his legs to scream in pain, but he promptly ignores it. He sees you and only you.

You, on the other hand, are unable to look at him; you whimper erratically.

Levi can deduce the source of your panic, because he’s had his own moments like this. It’s the way certain noises, smells, and others pull him back into the past. It must be the same for you.

“Hey,” Levi’s voice comes low and clear, trying to muster it all for you, “take a deep breath. It's not guns. Just fireworks some teenagers are toying with.”

But you seem unable to follow his advice, shaken as you are. You squeeze your eyes shut, tears clumping, streaming thick down the valleys of your cheeks. He sees your fingers pull at the strands of your hair.

Before he can think about it, his arms reach out of you, looping around the small of your back, where he draws you in. He presses you firmly against him. At first, you attempt to fight him back, muttering “no, no, no,” beneath your breath, but when Levi finally manages to smooth over your words with his own, you stop fighting.

Your head slumps down into the crest of his shoulder, like you were just a ragdoll gone limp. Levi tries to ignore the way his worry doubles down.

“Adler, listen to my voice,” he urges, trying to use things that have helped him during his worst panic attacks, during his worst episodes. Of course, Levi never allowed anyone to see him like this, but if he had, he thinks this would have helped. “Your ear’s pressed against my heart right now. Do you hear my heartbeat?”

“Y-yeah,” you answer, voice barely a raw whisper. The sound is enough to shatter something in Levi. It’s so small, so fragile.

“Focus on it," he says. "Focus on me speaking. Pretend that it’s the only sound in the world.”

You seem to attempt to laugh, but it comes across as another nervous sob, hiccups strangling your words. “S-someone thinks h-ighly of his v-voice.”

Levi just clicks his tongue, tightening his hold on you.

Your hands interweave with the collar of his shirt, and you bury your face deeper into his neck. It takes several moments, but he feels the tension in your spine untangle, vertebrate by vertebrate.

“Steady,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. “You’re alright.”

Your warm lips, drenched with tears, move against his neck. “I just can’t do it, ‘Vi… I just can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’m fucking stuck and I feel so guilty there’s always noises in my brain…” A sob cracks out of you. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“But you’re not alone.”

Your knuckles tighten, but your breath falters.

“You’re not alone,” Levi repeats. His three-fingered hand weaves through the hair at the back of your skull, mingling between your locks. He’s reminded of another time, long ago, when he did this after Nanaba died. “Even if you feel lost right now.”

“I just—I don’t want to be a bother. I don't want to overstay my w-welcome.”

“You’re not. You can stay as long as you want.” Until you grow tired of me. “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

You’re still hiccuping for air as you draw away from him. You seem to be searching for something, dazed and blurry.

“Y-you don’t mind?” you ask.

"Have I ever said something I didn't mean?"

"I... I guess not."

For a while, neither Levi nor you say anything else. He watches as your eyes cast down, eyelashes still full of tears. Your breath is back to being steady, though no less frail.

Eventually, your digits settle over his forearms, looking back at him with puffy eyes.

He offers you his clean handkerchief from his breast pocket. 

You take it with a crooked smile, staring down at the white cloth. “Thank you, Levi. I mean it.”

Levi looks away; he doesn't think he's done much.

“Walls.” You hiccup, lifting the handkerchief to your eyes. “I’ve made a scene, haven’t I? It’s the alcohol, I s-swear. I barely d-drink these days.”

“You were always a lightweight.”

“Pff, don’t remind me.”

“Well, judging by the brats walking towards us," he looks over your shoulders, "they’ve come to apologize.”

Sure enough, moments later, as you help Levi up and you both sit back down on the bench, three snotty kids approach the scene with a look of apology plastered on their faces.

One of them, a boy with vibrant ginger hair, takes the lead. “Ma’am… are you alright?”

You sniffle, eyes still red. “Fine—”

“She’s not fine, brat,” Levi interjects. “Don’t light this shit up in public.”

The boy grimaces with the kind of juvenile innocence only kids can muster.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say, giving Levi a look. “But hey, do try to be careful, ‘kay? Don’t light up things like this all on your own. Fireworks are dangerous, not to mention they’re scary when they’re up so close.”

“I... I won't do it no more, ma’am…" the boy says. "I really didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s alright. You couldn’t have known.”

The boy nods before finally fleeting up and meeting Levi's glare. The child instantly cowers back.

“Mistakes happen," Levi grumbles with a softer tone. "Just be more careful.”

“Y-yeah, mister. Won’t happen again.”

"Good."

.

.

.

Erwin finds you in the stables one day. “Levi is integrating with the squad.”

You stop cleaning your horse, raising a brow at the man. “Is he now?”

“Mm." There's wistful amusement on Erwin's face. "He's giving advice to his comrades.”

"Is that right?"

That night, when you greet Levi on the rooftop of the infirmary, you don't say a thing about this exchange, but you'll smile just a bit brighter at him anyway. 

.

.

.

Levi comes back from his evening shower to find something waiting for him in his bedroom. A piece of paper, carefully folded in three, is placed on his cabinet. Next to it is a medium-sized, black pouch.

Levi first unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find that it’s a letter and that it’s from you.

Levi, You’ll excuse me for coming in without asking, but you insinuated I should make myself comfortable, so… Here I am. You know, if you're going to let me pay for things, then it’s decided: I’m going to bribe you with new tea! No, you can’t fight me on that. As you know, I’m a force of nature—unstoppable. Here’s a new blend for you. I know for certain you haven’t tried this one because it’s straight from my travels. I don’t know why I waited a week to give it to you, but I hope you like it. Your amazing new roomie, - A.

Levi’s lips twitch. He can just picture you scribbling those words in your room, a grin on your face, waiting for him to take a shower just so you can place this handout in secret.

He briefly puts the letter back down, moving to open the gift. The black pouch hides a tea tin of simple design, with an etiquette that’s handwritten. White pu-erh tea. He slowly unscrews the sealed top, bringing it close to his nose to inhale its potent fragrant. Tea aromas, rich in citrus, fill his brain with a lovely buzzing effect. It smells nice, unlike anything he’s encountered before and Levi thinks its taste will be to his liking—that you picked it knowing it would.

His eyes stray back to the letter, picking it back up. He loves the way you write his name, the way you loop the letters together. It's elegant.

With his heart just a bit lighter than usual, Levi adds your letter to the chest under his bed, filled with the rest of your correspondence.

-

A/N: Thanks for reading! I was really touched by all the engagement the first chapter got, truly, so thank you for that. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and hey, if you have a minute, I'd love to hear your thoughts in any shape or form! Take care <3

( Next chapter / Join my taglist )

[qqueenofhades]

re your tags on that last post, you could say he was...biden his time

BA DUMP TSHH.

I think that everyone, having gotten through the initial 24 hours of rage, fear, terror, confusion, anger, and frustration, is coming around to the idea that this was possibly a good thing and has undoubtedly given the Democratic ticket a much-needed jolt of energy. There are still all the very valid conversations to be had about the sway of a tiny group of billionaire donors, the media and Anonymous Democratic Sources bullying, the decision to torch Biden when they could so easily (so! easily!!!) have done it to Trump at any time and have clearly decided to go FULLY into the tank for him instead. This has many worrisome implications for democracy, and it's not something to be celebrated. All of that is still very much true.

However, now that we have had concrete evidence of the party immediately cohering around Kamala and the grassroots donors busting down the door to give her money, it may also turn out that this was a very wise political jiu-jitsu move by a very crafty political veteran like Biden. As the post I just reblogged pointed out, he did it AFTER the GOP convention, when the Republicans had already locked in (by any reasonable metric) a terrible, terrible ticket. It makes the Democrats look like the ones responsive to the American people demanding a younger and more mentally "with it" candidate (no matter how obvious the slurs about ageism were in regard to Biden when Trump is literally THREE YEARS YOUNGER and far more obviously scrambled). It opens all the excitement and historic firsts of Obama in 2008, it gives the perfect "Prosecutor vs. Felon" tagline that's really easy to run with and stick in people's minds, it is beautiful revenge for all Trump's horrible sexist behavior in 2016 (and really, his whole life) and it gives the Democrats the narrative, if they can FUCKING STICK TOGETHER AND STOP STABBING EACH OTHER IN THE BACK. Now we get to hear about Kamala's running mate, Kamala's plans, feel-good pieces about how she appeals to youth, women/people of color, etc. etc. ALL THAT IS GOOD.

I think/hope the DNC will now be a massive celebration of Biden, who after all came out of retirement when he was already old to take on Trump, beat him, deliver an incredibly successful presidency, and pass the torch on to Kamala. I saw some criticism of Obama yesterday for not endorsing her immediately, but what I read is that he/the other Democratic big beasts (Pelosi, Schumer, etc) want to be a uniting figure with an endorsement of the final candidate, if there was a contested primary beforehand. Thank fuck, it doesn't look like there will be, but it also means that they might wait until the DNC before openly endorsing her. Now, I am still angry at the Biden knifing that all these three were complicit in to some degree, BUT I also have no doubt that if/when Kamala is confirmed as the nominee, they will line up behind her to endorse her and her VP pick. I have seen Mark Kelly, Roy Cooper, etc as possible picks (since alas, she will probably have to pick a straight white man; Kelly would be replaced in the Senate by Democratic AZ governor Katie Hobbs; Cooper is term-limited as governor in NC and might help us target that state for a flip). But what is number one most important is that we support her and whoever she DOES choose. I have also heard that she is already in the process of vetting picks and this is exciting news.

I am thrilled to vote for a woman for POTUS the second time in a few years, I think she has a real shot at winning, and I am heartened by how the base has rallied to Kamala in 24 hours. Let's fucking go. As my new office decoration says:

[justporo]

Headcanons about Astarion pulling his partner out of a bad mood

I'm not feeling super great today so this is another very self indulgent headcanon post which is possibly a little unhinged but I hope you'll still enjoy it.

Astarion himself is no stranger to feeling whimsical or even throwing full blown temper tantrums; that's also why he knows how much of a drag it can be

So granted he isn't in a massively bad mood himself, he'll keep nudging you until you are out of your current bad mood

If you're both annoyed at each other though (like after an unnecessary fight) it might be that you're both sitting around brooding - that is until you can't take it anymore; Astarion might act like he's still pissed, but when you come closer (still with a pout even) and wrap your arms around him, he can't resist (even though he will make a show out of it): "Do you mind? I'm still brooding!", Astarion says but lifts up his arms crossed over his chest so you can hug him better. "Still love you though, you rat arse", you reply furrowing your brows dramatically, you don't even feel that angry anymore. "Love you too, you idiot", Astarion answers and presses a kiss to your cheek - with a teasing eyeroll and grimace. Not shortly after the mood's a lot better, the fight forgotten.

This man shows as much mercy with you when you're feeling down and grumpy as on the battlefield: none!

"I like you in bed, my love. No - in fact: I love you in bed. But not like this - get up, my sweet, you can dissolve into a puddle of misery later when I'm done with you."

He will absolutely fuss if you don't go along with what he's doing to lighten your mood; and he will keep doing it until you're either punching him or are rolling on the floor laughing

This might involve the following: "Do you know what you look like right now, my heart?", Astarion asks and then makes the most excessive grimace. You're still scowling at him. "Love" he sighs then "furrowing your brows at me will just give you wrinkles. We don't want that, do we?" And he pinches your cheek with his long fingers until you're getting up to beat his ass. "See, wasn't it easy getting out of bed after all?" "You'd also be astonished how easy it is to be put IN A COMA!" (But you have to agree with him)

He will also shower you with praise, no matter what about, until you believe him (at least for the moment)

Or he'll be so disarmingly cute until you can't help but fall into his open arms for a comforting hug

If really nothing helps, Astarion just stays with you

Maybe just talking to you so you have something to focus on, massaging your shoulders, your neck, your hands

Or just cuddling with you, holding you, until his presence alone eases the knot of negative feelings in your chest (and then maybe nibbling a bit on your ear when he feels that you're doing better)

He's also masterful in just helping you let out any anger you might feel ("That BITCH!" "Yes love, how could she!? Honestly you should've just stabbed her right then and there." "RIGHT!?")

Other ways of coping might involve a bottle of wine and him handing you some stuff you can smash angrily ("You really showed that mug, love, impressive... Remind me to net get on your bad side, darling.")

In short: Astarion is as good with putting you in a bad mood sometimes as getting you out of it

I just need Astarion to tell me "Keep going, you beautiful thing" every day for the rest of my life, is that too much to ask?? We love a supportive king.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel

[starry-bi-sky]

my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

------------

What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  

He has no mouth, but he must scream. 

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 

Scrappy is just not enough. 

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 

Being dead is agony. 

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 

Being dead hurts. 

[reasonandfaithinharmony]

2024 Gif Round-Up

Thank you for tagging me @heartstringsduet @thisbuildinghasfeelings @paperstorm @alrightbuckaroo

@carlos-in-glasses @guardian-angle22 and @reyesstrand!!

I’m very late to this because the holidays didn’t leave me any time to myself. But @herefortarlos tells me there’s no deadline for these things. So here we go.😅

This year was the first time I watched 911 Lone Star live, and it was actually the first time I’d ever made gifs for *any show* as we got new episodes. It's been a lot of fun, even if it makes me even more aware of just how long it takes me to finish a set. 🙈

Here’s to everyone who puts lovely content on my dash, whether it’s your own work, reblogs, or funny/heartfelt commentary and tags. I would be so lost without all of it.

Please consider this an open tag for anyone who would still like to do their own round-up!

January

Carlos smiling into kisses Parallel set with scenes from Yee-Haw (1x02)

“You asked me to feel safe with you.” Flashback set with scenes from Friends With Benefits (2x04) and Push (3x04)

When a new hyperfixation takes hold Dan Levy reaction gifs

February

TK and Carlos comforting each other Parallel set with scenes from Friends With Benefits (2x04) and A House Divided (4x16)

March

“I'll keep going with you.” An emotional entry for incorrect quotes/text post–gifs, with scenes from In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency (3x08) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

 “I am tryna be your home, your safe place, your go to person…” Back to the more humorous incorrect quotes/text post–gifs, with moments from Yee-Haw (1x02)

“there’s honestly a lot of things wrong with you but im kind of into it for some reason. Do you want to get married.” Incorrect quotes/text post–gifs, featuring the darts scene from Texas Proud (1x03)

April

Their last terrified moments in their first home. Their first brilliant and joyful moments in their new home. Parallel set with scenes from The Big Heat (2x12) and Push (3x04)

“Hey now those (your big brown eyes) are some dangerous weapons…” Incorrect quotes/text post–gif with a look at Carlos in Negative Space (3x12)

That lovely first tarlos scene in Riddle of the Sphynx (3x13), without the credits obstructing our view.

"just got diagnosed as your soulmate...". Incorrect quotes/text post–gif featuring scenes from Yee-Haw (1x02) and A House Divided (4x16)

Season 4: parallel statements of love and devotion Scenes from Abandoned (4x04), The New Hot Mess (4x02), Swipe Left (4x12), A House Divided (4x16), and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

May through December are below the cut because things got very out of hand very quickly:

May

Husband, husband, husband Every instance of “husband” from In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

When there are clues that date night has been interrupted Adding some visual aids to the conversation about the state of Carlos' shirt at the end of This Is Not a Drill (4x06)

“I think that both of them like to be the little spoon and the big spoon” – Rafael Silva For @carlos-in-glasses who shared her amazing Cameo video with us

“I missed it so much, I took a stab at writing fanfiction.” A relatable moment from Modern Family

June

If that moment in the fire was Carlos' last chance to say anything, he was going to say everything. A flashback set inspired by @doublel27's post that lives in my head, rent-free. Features scenes from The Big Heat (2x12) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

“He might not understand TK's fixation with a lizard, but… Um, you know, Carlos loves TK. And if Carlos loves TK, then that's all that matters.” – Rafael Silva For @thisbuildinghasfeelings who generously shared not one, but two Cameo videos with us

Just taking the opportunity to look at the details of some intense moments from the fire in The Big Heat (2x12)

“It’s a meal, not a marriage proposal, TK. || “So, the wedding. It’s coming up.” A flashback set with TK and Carlos sitting across from each other at the dinner table in Yee-Haw (1x02) and This Is Not a Drill (4x06)

wedding planning → wedding ceremony Parallel set with scenes from Control Freaks (4x08) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18)

July

“And when did you figure that out?” / “The day I met you.” How long have you thought that?“ / “Since the first night I took you home.” A flashback *and* parallel set with scenes from the pilot (1x01), Yee-Haw (1x02), The New Hot Mess (4x02), and A House Divided (4x16). Made in collaboration with @paperstorm. (Check out the accompanying fic here.)

That sounds sexual. 😏 A Rafael Silva reaction gif for various situations here on tumblr dot com

Andrea with her husband and her son, both in their tuxes for the wedding. Parallel set featuring scenes from  Best of Men (4x17) and In Sickness and in Health deleted scene (4x18). (I blame this one on @goldenskykaysani 😭)

August

My best attempt at zooming in on the final shot of the proposal scene in A Bright and Cloudless Morning (3x18)

September

No more wasted moments. A collection of scenes from A Bright and Cloudless Morning (3x18), Swipe Left (4x12), Both Sides Now (5x01), and the promo for Thunderstruck (5x05). (I still need to update that last one to the version used in the episode. Oops.)

Carlos on the outside, looking in  ->  Carlos surrounded by the love of his friends, family, and husband Not sure if I should call this a parallel or a flashback set. Either way, we have scenes from the pilot (1x01) and In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and I'm so very normal about it.

Sweet moments where Carlos is grabbing TK’s sweater/jacket Parallel set of still images from Riddle of the Sphynx (3x13) and the Thunderstruck promo (5x05)

Reaching across the table Parallel set of still images from Austin, We Have a Problem (1x10) and Both Sides, Now (5x01, season 5 promo)

TK and Carlos:  "husband" A collection of scenes from A Bright and Cloudless Morning (3x18),  Swipe Left (4x12), In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and Both Sides Now (5x01)

The look on Carlos' face when his own love language is returned to him in kind Parallel set with scenes from Swipe Left (4x12) and Both Sides, Now (5x01)

October

“One of the most magical things about being in a committed relationship is learning to really open up your heart and hate one of your partner’s coworkers you’ve never met” Incorrect quotes/text post–gif  for Both Sides, Now (5x01)

The way Carlos walks into the 126 firehouse:  unwilling to move past the threshold -> strutting in with donuts for everyone, just because. A collection of scenes from Austin, We Have a Problem (1x10), Bad Call (2x08), Spring Cleaning (3x17), and Trainwrecks (5x02)

“You look like the night we met. Green t-shirt and short hair.” For @strandnreyes and @paperstorm, to accompany their coda for C12 (5x03), with parallel gifs from the pilot (1x01).  (Read the fic here.)

TK and Carlos are not on the same page Parallel set for Swipe Left (4x12) and the Thunderstruck promo (5x05)

kiss + hand + ✨ring✨ Parallel set of still images from In Sickness and in Health deleted scenes (4x18) and Thunderstruck promo photos (5x05)

I will never not be thinking about this kiss 🔥 Thunderstruck (5x05) sneak peek

Had to make a post with sexy scenes from three different episodes. As a treat. 🔥🔥🔥 Parallel set for Yee-Haw (1x02), The Big Heat (2x12), and Thunderstruck (5x05)

"…everybody has needs." Pairing moments from The Big Heat (2x12) and Thunderstruck (5x05) with Rafael Silva’s Cameo video (courtesy of @carlos-in-glasses)

November

TK, Carlos, and Jonah – with Gwyn and with Enzo Parallel set of still images from Push (3x04) and a Kiddos (5x07) promotional photo. A closer zoom of the Kiddos image can be found here.

“This is great. I’m going to get a good grade in therapy, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve” Incorrect quotes/text post–gif for Carlos in Thunderstruck (5x05)

TK and Carlos moving in sync during couples therapy Thunderstruck (5x05)

Carlos in his troublemaker era, egging on Owen and Enzo Kiddos (5x07)

TK, Carlos, and Jonah at the firehouse Parallel set with scenes from  Push (3x04) and Kiddos (5x07)

“Hi, big brother.” / “Hi, little brother.” TK and Jonah reunited in Kiddos (5x07) A longer version of this gif set can be found here

Just the tiniest bit of slightly different footage from TK's birthday party Kiddos (5x07)

“Who’s gonna take him to dim sum?” || “Who’s gonna hug him?” Parallel set with scenes from In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency (3x08) and The Quiet Ones (5x08)

A microsecond of behind-the-scenes footage from TK's party Kiddos (5x07)

December

TK and Carlos reaching for each other in their sleep Parallel set with scenes from Riddle of the Sphynx (3x13), In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and The Quiet Ones (5x08).

Our loved ones live on through us Parallel set with scenes from In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency (3x08) and Fall From Grace (5x09)

“You were my dad." Flashback set with scenes from Best of Men (4x17), In Sickness and in Health (4x18), and Fall From Grace (5x09)

[snghnlvr]

birthday cake. / park sunghoon

synopsis : you noticed that your neighbor is alone on his birthday.

includes : 720 words | fluff | strangers to friends??

extra : damn this is the shortest drabble i have written lol | supportive mother ;) | this is very rushed sunghoon drabble because i wanna post for his birthday lol (happy birthday bf<3) | i don’t expect much tbh ….lol enjoy :3

likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

your neighbor is alone for his birthday.

your head leaning onto your window frame, you stared at the boy on his desk doing homework.

it was night time, the air outside bought a cold feeling to your skin despite wearing a pajama set. even if clothes, you’re still shivering like a cat. but nothing defeats the feeling than being alone for your birthday. you felt utterly bad.

your parents started off your day by saying, “it’s sunghoon’s birthday today. sohee’s son.” your dad tossed you milk for your cereal. you muttered a thanks before familiarizing yourself who sunghoon is.

sunghoon moved into your neighborhood in the summer of this year. the first time your parents and yourself greeted him, you can’t deny that his looks definitely caught your eye. you agree that he’s hella attractive.

he looked nerdy with glasses on and was (still is) undoubtedly quiet. but as time passed on, you sometimes would have the opportunity to say hi and good mornings on the bus stop, on the way to school. sunghoon would reply back before moving his eyes to his phone. his social battery easily gets drained. you would later found out when your mother told you from the talks her and sohee would have.

both of you went to different schools so you wonder how’s he’s doing since he moved.

so technically you’re friends but you don’t think sunghoon knows that.

you stared at the disappointment in front of you. you pursed your lips together with your arms crossed as you wonder what kind of homework he’s working on. or better yet, thinking.

isn’t he supposed to be celebrating? what is this loser (respectively) doing homework for?

“staring at the boy?”

you jumped, almost screaming out loud at the sudden voice by your door. you swore that your heart tried to break free out of your rib cage.

you recognized that it was your mom’s but it felt like it was from a line out of a movie - where it’s the last moments of death.

you turned around with an annoyed expression. your mom grinned slyly with a fruit bowl in her hand. she settled the bowl in your desk as you happily skipped over, grabbing the fork that stabbed a strawberry and deliciously consume the sweetness and freshness.

“i wasn’t staring..” you muttered, finishing your strawberry. “i’m curious as to why he’s not celebrating when it’s his birthday.” you stabbed whatever you wanted to eat next: a grape.

“sunghoon?” your mom asked. you nodded, slipping a chair in to relax. “i believe his parents went out for a business trip.”

your eyes bulged out, even feeling more pity that his parents weren’t here for his birthday. “wait really?” you were genuinely surprised. “what about his friends? doesn’t he have any with that look of his?” your tone became bitter towards the end.

your mom shrugged, not knowing as well. “i think we still have cake from last night that hasn’t been eaten yet.” your mom gave you an idea.

“the paris baguette one?” your mom nodded. “share some with sunghoon.” your mother smiled before leaving your room.

-

you arrived at the doorstep of sunghoon’s home with an uneaten paris baguette cake that came with plates, knives and forks, candles and a match. you were kind of nervous because this might be the first time interacting with sunghoon.

your heart was beating out of nervousness that you might just drop the cake and hide in the bushes to see if sunghoon would take it without hesitation. but that’s just dumb-

your thoughts disappeared when the door opened and you saw sunghoon still in his school uniform. his eyes also widened, intrigued to see you with a cake in your hands. well, especially you.

“uh..” you looked down at sunghoon, admiring how he looked good in his uniform before looking up at him. he was blinking, waiting for a response.

sunghoon noticed your stare. he heard whisper to yourself, “you’re tall…” and he then realized how short you are when he looked down on you. “you’re short.” he bluntly replied.

“w-what?” your heart stammered when you heard him, looking at him dumbfounded. he tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow like a cocky person. acting like he didn’t say anything.

then you cleared your throat.

“wanna help me finish this cake?” you mentally palmed yourself at your own words that just randomly spilled out on its own.

sunghoon’s lips curled up, almost like a smile at your words. your heart felt lighter at his reaction. he looked at you, nodded. “yeah.” he invited you inside his home, making you excited to share the cake.

[teecupangel]

Permission to be horny you say, then how about minotaur Desmond (y'know cuz horns)

Anyway best place to drop him would be as a "guardian" of some PoE

Like we could have him at Altaïr's apple and save that group from the templars (and have monsterfucker Altaïr to circle around to what you really nave in that post)

But also I have the thought of him guarding the anti-earthquake machine (that I can never remember if it had a Canon name). Because imagine being Achilles, you send one of your men to a suspected location of a PoE and he comes back with a huge half bull man and like is he the PoE!?!?

Giving me permission to indulge in my monsterfucker Altaïr agenda will always be accepted whole heartedly XD

We can even make this a whole ‘Minotaur in the Labyrinth’ kind of situation where Altaïr gets thrown into an undiscovered area and the ground collapsed under him, causing him to fall deeper beneath the mount.

Malik managed to get the ‘treasure’ but their escape is blocked. He noticed how Altaïr had fallen and Kadar getting stabbed on the stomach took his choice away from him. He grabbed Kadar and they both fell into the hole, hoping that it was a better choice than trying to charge the enemy lines.

They fell into the waters and gets dragged into some underground waterway that ends with them meeting with Altaïr, swimming upward to the nearest source of light.

Which turned out to be a dimly lit (lines of glowing gold all around the walls and ceiling) central plaza of sort with what may or may not be a fountain-sized lake.

And that’s how Desmond finds them in this fucking labyrinth that he’d been stuck in for god knows how long.

He died as Desmond Miles then, the next thing he knows, he was now a Minotaur stuck in this labyrinth.

And now he has to talk these two wet most probably suffering from hypothermia Assassins from killing him so he can try and help Kadar.

It’s really a good thing that he could write Arabic and the ground of the labyrinth was soft sand.

(This can end up as either Monsterfucker Altaïr OR Monsterfucker Altaïr and Kadar with ambiguous situation Malik)

.

As for a Shay situation. I kinda like the idea that Shay tries to take the device and Desmond beats the crap out of him, half because Desmond is larger and stronger as a minotaur and half because he had the element of surprise.

And instead of killing Shay, he manages to talk to him by writing and showing the paper to Shay while Shay is in the ground, his entire body screaming in pain.

‘If you take that, the ground will split open and kill countless.’

And Shay can’t exactly agree to not take it because he was ordered to and also because he didn’t necessarily believe the minotaur so the minotaur just sighed and ordered Shay to take him to his mentor and he’ll explain it (Desmond doesn’t know it’s Achilles)

Cue the crew of Morrigan thinking Shay Cormac has brought the devil onto their ship, an awkward journey and…

Desmond realizing that Achilles during this time period is a stubborn jerk.

So Desmond stays in the homestead because he has the key to open the place where the device is kept and now he’s arguing with Achilles using papers.

When he realized that Achilles could just stop talking to him by not reading what he wrote, he goes and grab Shay to read out loud his writing.

Shay doesn’t know when he became the minotaur’s assistant but, really, he’s just worried if he doesn’t do this, Desmond and Achilles might start trading blows.

[yandere-sins]

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days. 

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice. 

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle. 

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words. 

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all. 

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind. 

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it. 

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears. 

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it. 

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity? 

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world. 

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though. 

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" 

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason. 

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal. 

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted. 

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here. 

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy. 

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."