#the watcher and the thief

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Tag Game: How Cuddleable Are Your OCs?

Thanks to @willtheweaver for the tag here and @fourwingedwriter for the tag here!

Rules: Answer the above question using a scale from 1-10 and include context!

For the main cast of The Watcher and the Thief:

Hector: 3.5/10 Not a touchy-feely sort of person, the closest he'd get is a surprise hug from his apprentice.

Luc: 7/10 Depends on the person he's cuddling with, usually family like his siblings or close friends.

Octavian: 2/10 Avoids unnecessary physical touch if he can help it.

Rift: 8/10 He'd give a hug so he could pickpocket the person he's hugging.

Kaira: 6.5/10 No concept of personal space, but usually backs off if she senses discomfort. Usually.

Tagging @chronicallydragons @spitefulbull @gummybugg @thethistlegirlwrites @stargazer-luna

@theeccentricraven @elizaellwrites and anyone else who wants to rate their ocs' cuddleability! :D

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Some memes from Tales from Valaria

(The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure):

(The Watcher and the Thief):

(Magician's Bait):

April Fool's! Instead of sharing an excerpt, share a meme or incorrect quote related to your WIP, OCs, or published work 😘

[justaz]

wait,, in the lightning thief it was established that hades visited olympus on the winter solstice since it was the darkest day of the year and all the ancient/evil magic stirred, right? but in the titans curse, percy and co visit olympus on the winter solstice but hades isn’t present. it could be a moment of rick just forgetting his previously established world building but i propose that it was hades in mourning as his daughter just died like two days prior so he didn’t want to bother with his family and their bickering

[clockworkbee]

Kinda love it when writers address the readers in their books.

[archersgoon]

generally when it comes to more physical froiactivities in modern aus i divide them into two categories. 1 is whatever's acting as his assassin equivalent. contact sports and anything with classical training (bar singing. & maybe instruments) go here. these normally need some kind of deeply serious history (from per&trev) (or so they claim) and a very clear expiry date (your knees? fucked). most importantly he has to be dead fucking serious about it to the point that neither we as the audience or froi himself can identify if it's actually bringing him any joy (think christian bale doing the patrick bateman face in newsies dancebreaks. i can't find the video but trust). but he is very very good at it . the other is whatever's acting as his life-changing charynite trip. this is where basically everything else (your school musicals, your big bands, your froitariq pitch perfect shower scenes, etc.) goes. be warned though anything you do here necessitates gargarin being at least adjacent to whatever the activity is (director garg....)

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Octavian: the emotional damage of discovering that your entire species has vanished while you were imprisoned

Draven: shot in the shoulder

Reese: got cut up by broken glass, PTSD of getting kidnapped 3 times

Luc: cursed wound that wouldn't heal by conventional means

Damian: any and all injuries received while held prisoner

What's the worst your character has ever been hurt? 

[0alix0]

Rook's backgrounds make no sense or gatekeeping is good, actually

It's didn't sit well with me ever since bioware admitted that all 6 background for Rook can be played by any race you choose

Looking back at Origins it's clear why most of the backgrounds were race-specific. Not only it provided a better understanding of the separate cultures (you wouldn't really understand what dwarfs are about if you were able to play as a surface dwarf commoner) it also established the rules of the world (elves are opressed, you can't become a queen/king cuz the nobles will riot, humans colonize them and inforce their religion and rules on everyone, dwarfs are considered weird)

Now, looking at the veilguard, I can't help but ask:

How can a fully grown dalish with vallaslin be a crow? They buy slaves as a way to get more assassins, usually elves, children, so they could easier ruin their psyche. why the hell would a dalish stand for it?

How can a qunari be a Gray Warden? Wardens don't discriminate, sure, but this far, we haven't even heard of a qunari warden. Rook should be a legend, Rook should be questioned at actually being a warden by NPCs, OR sit in some Warden outpost and being studied by their mages, because no one actually knows how Blight and joining might work with Kossith body instead of running around with Varric.

Veiljumpers were organized by dalish, right? Then why in the world would a human be allowed to join? How and why did they change their minds to accept literally anyone, even if it's a potential threat/thief(Morrigan)/zealot/etc..?

How can a dwarf, someone who isn't even connected to the fade be a Veiljumper?

How can a dwarf be a part of the Mourn Watch? A Mortalitasi, an exclusively MAGE order? What can they even do?? Preform a non magical mummifications with herbs and salts like Egyptians did? Sweep the mausoleum? Be some sort of a funeral organizer/lawyer/genealogist? That could've been really interesting if only the game actually bothered to say anything about it. It did not

"Well it's up to your headcanons!" then why make the backgrounds in the first place??? They don't matter anyway!

I mean, obviously it was just a way to promote the game to older fans. Look, the backstories! The thing you've been craving for is back in game! Only they forgot what actually made them so great. The most important part. They mattered, they created a basis for my character. They gave them families, connections. They changed the way my character is perceived (elves in general) and what they can do plotwise (become a monarch/paragon).

I don't fucking care if 3-5 NPCs might have some additional dialogues for me, cuz they don't matter anyway. I don't even know these people, i never met them before, my character did, but I didn't. And now I don't care enough to know. like, i'm playing as a mourn watcher, but before going to Nevarra i barely knew anything about them, and what i know now is still rather surface level shit

Let alone the fact that all the backgrounds are practically the same. You pissed off some influencial people by doing good and was send away. Bravo.

........if this post gets one like I'm writing my own ideas for DA4 protagonist's backgrounds

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Rain, wildfire, clear skies for the ask game?

(in reference to this ask game)

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

Answered here!

�� Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?

Hmmm tough call.

Jas is a spitfire, spends a lot of The Legend of Orian Goldeneye in a state of pissed-off (I would too, if I got isekai'd then arrested and a bunch of other stuff). She is also highly empathetic, when she's not angry.

Draven's much the same way, if we're being honest. His default state is more frustrated than furious, but he can also get ticked off really easily. In the first chapter of The Hunter, the Myth, and the Cure, part of his motivation for taking the job that got him into the Fells in the first place was because the messenger was just a kid affected by the attack.

And then we have Jarsali, the queen of bottling up emotions like bottling up lightning until it all comes spilling out at the wrong moment.

🌌 Clear Skies - How long have you been writing your current WIP?

The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure -> late 2021, though Octavian and Draven's first meeting was first written before that. So roughly three, almost four years.

The Legend of Orian Goldeneye -> January 2023 was when I started the first draft, and I finished it in September 2023. Jas as a character predates the first draft, in 2022 at some point, though I don't remember how long before. Definitely my youngest if you don't count Writemas or Forsaken.

Trials of the Six -> 2019. Earliest record is from an email draft in 2019 with the first chapter. It has evolved a LOT since then my goodness. Surprisingly this isn't the oldest WIP on the list.

The Watcher and the Thief -> 2018 was the early early early versions of this WIP, back when it was my D&D ranger's backstory. I don't think it started evolving until 2020 when I actually made the file for it, and the current draft didn't exist until around 2022. So yeah, that's my oldest WIP. It's not my first attempt at novel writing, I think this might be the third? The first was a shitty videogame fanfic, and if I recall correctly the second was also D&D style fantasy, but I don't think I ever made a digital file for it, so it only exists in one of my notebooks somewhere.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Thank you for the tag! I'll do this for the cast of The Watcher and the Thief:

Hector: I... y'know what I deserved that. Luc: Huh. That's fair. Hurts, but fair. Octavian: *sigh* no, you're right. Rift: Touché. Kaira: *eye-roll* sure.

Gently tagging @fourwingedwriter @elizaellwrites @writingphoenix @faytelumos @illarian-rambling and open tag! :D

Your line: Words cannot describe how much I want to hit you with a folding chair.

Character voice tag

Shoutout to @mk-writes-stuff for the tag

My line is: Where are we? How did we get here?

Characters from A Feather in the Forest

——————————————————————

Fen: Wait a minute. Did we get lost? How?

Ivy: I am 100% sure we are lost.

Rail: Now this does not look familiar at all.

Quill: I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. Wherever ‘here’ is anyways.

Nettle: We’ve gone off the map. How? I have no idea.

Leif: I don’t say this often, but I’m saying it now: I have no idea where we are.

—————————————————————

Tagging @mysticstarlightduck @tildeathiwillwrite @smudged-red-ink @whatwewrotepodcast @agirlandherquill @drchenquill @splashinkling @jakkon-and-rose-topic @revenantlore @phoenixradiant @melpomene-grey and open tag

Your line is: Yeah, I deserved that.

[dionysianivy]

[...a son, of many shifts, blandly cunning, a robber, a cattle driver, a bringer of dreams, a watcher by night, a thief at the gates, one who was soon to show forth wonderful deeds among the deathless gods.]

[shiorihyugawrites]

Red Regrets

Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

Chapter One

A/N: This story begins directly after Season 2 and before Season 3 begins.

Levi rolled onto his side, finally allowing his body a moment’s rest. For once, the barracks in the old Scouts’ HQ were quiet, and the tension of the last few weeks seemed to have eased—if only just a bit. The clash with Reiner and Bertholdt had left bruises and fractures behind, but he was lucky to have recovered from the ankle injury he sustained fighting the Female Titan. The others were scattered around the fortress, either lost in their own thoughts or drifting in a restless sleep. Moonlight trickled in through the high windows, casting elongated shadows across the worn floorboards. Levi, easing into a rare moment of calm, allowed himself a long exhale.

In the dim hush, his consciousness began to waver. His eyes slipped shut, and he surrendered to the pull of sleep. He rarely had dreams—often, they were swallowed up by nightmares of Titan battles, of watchers devoured by monstrosities. But tonight, something else awaited him entirely, reaching out from the deepest corner of his mind…

In that stirring darkness, shapes formed an old memory of the Underground City, tinted with a child’s vantage point and brimming with emotions he had long tried to bury.

He found himself standing in a dingy alley, age eleven, small but already hardened by life’s harshness. The air was damp, the stench of mildew and unwashed bodies all around, the stifling closeness of the underground labyrinth pressing in on him. Flickering lanterns lined the walls, giving the narrow passageway a sickly, orange glow. He was used to these labyrinthine passages. In fact, he knew every corner, every walkway, every hideout. However, something felt different that day—an unease crackled in the air. He could sense it in the pit of his stomach before he even saw her.

He peered around a bend in the alley, only to find a young girl—a year younger than he was—cornered by a small gang of older boys. She looked fragile at first glance, but something fierce flashed in her wide gold eyes, as though she was too stubborn to cower. Her rose-red hair fell in wild curls around her face, framing features that even in that dim alley stood out like a beacon. She wore tattered clothes that had likely seen better days, but Levi could already tell she carried herself differently. She wasn’t the usual pickpocket or petty thief that roamed the Underground. She looked like she didn’t belong in that place at all.

“C’mon,” the biggest of the boys sneered, leaning in toward her, “let’s see that pretty face of yours.” He reached out for her hair, intending to yank her to him.

She slapped his hand away, spitting a furious, “Don’t touch me!” Her voice trembled, not purely from fear, but from anger. “I’m warning you.”

The boy just laughed, the sound echoing against the stone walls. “You’re warning me? You’re just an orphan girl. Nobody’s coming to save you.”

Levi’s grip on the corner of the alley tightened. His heart pounded, not only from the usual rush of potential confrontation, but from an unfamiliar spark he felt at the sight of her. He had never seen a girl so…striking. Even half-starved and clearly exhausted, something about her presence was radiant. She looked alone, cornered, and furious. Levi clicked his tongue.

“Oi,” he said, stepping into the alley. His voice, still a child’s, carried enough ice to make them pause. “You want to back off?”

The group of boys turned sharply, startled. The leader sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

“None of your business,” Levi shot back, stepping closer. He sized them up, noting the trembling fists and the uncertain glances they exchanged. He had a small stature, but the Underground already knew rumors of a strange child whose fists and speed had been making people think twice before crossing him. “I’ll only tell you once. Leave her alone.”

The biggest boy let out a short bark of laughter before charging forward. In a flash, Levi dropped low, dodging the lunging fist, then slammed his elbow hard into the attacker’s ribs. The boy doubled over. Another swung at Levi’s head. Levi twisted sideways, swept the attacker’s leg, and sent him crashing onto the filthy ground with a dull thud. Within seconds, two of them were groaning, trying to scramble away from this small demon of a kid who moved with effortless speed. The remaining few took one look at Levi’s steeled expression and decided they wanted none of it. They ran off, leaving their two injured comrades behind.

Levi stood there, breathing lightly from the short scuffle, and looked at the fallen boys. “Scram. Don’t let me catch you messing around here again.” The two crawled away, muttering curses under their breath.

A hush fell over the alley. He turned to the girl, who stood pinned to the wall. She was trembling, not entirely from fear, but with leftover adrenaline. She stared at him through those golden eyes, her lips parted in shock. He took a step toward her, trying not to scare her, though that emotion was foreign to him. He had rarely cared about scaring anyone. But something about this girl made him…cautious.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

She nodded, brushing dust from her ragged clothes. “I…thank you,” she mumbled, hesitating as though she wasn’t used to leaning on anyone. “I’m Penelope.” She glanced away, fiddling with a loose thread at the hem of her worn shirt. “I…lost my parents. I don’t really have anywhere to go. Been sleeping in corners and…yeah.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but Levi could feel the tremor beneath her words.

Levi pressed his lips together. “Name’s Levi,” he said simply. He looked her over again, noticing the bruises on her arms and the exhaustion in her posture. “You hungry?”

She blinked, the question catching her off guard. “Yeah…pretty hungry.”

For a moment, an awkward hush settled between them. Levi wasn’t one to show compassion freely, especially to strangers, but this was different. He sighed and motioned for her to follow him. “Come on. I know a place we can get something to eat if you don’t mind bread that’s a little stale.” He paused and then added in a low voice, “And if you stay close, I can watch your back. Next time those punks see you, they might try again.”

She followed him without hesitation, a subtle warmth glowing in her eyes. 

That day, a bond began to form. Even though the Underground was a grim labyrinth of fear and desperation, Penelope’s presence seemed to shine a small light into Levi’s world.

The dream shifted, like a memory skipping forward…

Images of Levi teaching Penelope how to defend herself blurred together with glimpses of her carefully bandaging scrapes on his arms after a bloody brawl. He heard echoes of his own voice, rarely gentle, but firm: “You have to punch like you mean it.” 

Then he’d feel her soft hands, methodical and sure as she cleaned a wound on his cheek. 

He saw flashes of them huddled together under makeshift blankets in a cramped corner of a run-down building, sharing a stolen loaf of bread.

Suddenly, the memory sharpened again. Levi was still young, maybe fourteen, sitting in a dimly lit back room that served as a hideout for his growing circle of allies. His fist was closed around a piece of paper—some worthless agreement that had to do with territory in the Underground. He was swiftly rising in power. King of the Underground was a tall claim for a scrawny teenager, but people had begun to fear him and fear was currency. Yet his eyes weren’t on the paper. They were on Penelope, who stood across the room, her red hair spilling over her shoulders as she looked at him with gentle worry.

“You really going through with this?” she asked, voice breaking slightly. “You’re making more enemies than you can handle.”

Levi let out a quiet “tsk.” “I can handle them.” He paused, then softened his tone in a rare moment of frankness. “Better I make enemies now than have them come looking for you. If I control the Underground, nobody’s going to lay a finger on you, Pen.”

She stepped closer, that determined spark in her gold eyes. “I’m not a fragile thing you need to protect every second.”

“Sure you’re not,” he replied, but the subtle concern in his gaze revealed a deeper truth. She’d always be a target. He refused to allow that. “It’s just how it is.”

The dream twisted again. He saw the moment he first confessed his feelings. He was fifteen, she was fourteen, and his heart nearly hammered out of his chest, even though outwardly he tried to remain stoic. Standing in a cramped corridor, he had glowered at her with a mixture of nerves and pride. “I’m… in love with you,” he said, forcing the words out. “So you’re stuck with me now.”

She had laughed, a bright, melodious sound that bounced off the walls. “You’re a bossy idiot, but I love you too,” she replied, cheeks flushed.

His chest had felt warmer than any furnace. Pride, satisfaction, and a rare contentment swept over him in that single moment. The memory softened into more fleeting images: heated kisses stolen in dark corners, Penelope’s laughter, the way her hair felt when he ran his fingers through it, the sleepless nights they shared, some days in quiet conversation, others in sweet comfort.

Then, like every dream, reality began creeping in. The memory turned colder, as if touched by an arctic wind. It was the night he decided to leave with the Scouts. He had argued with her at first. She had demanded to know why he was leaving her, why he was risking everything. He’d spat out cruel words, words that burned him even as he spoke them. He told her she was too clingy, that she’d only hold him back. He had seen her golden eyes fill with tears, heartbreak overshadowing her usual fiery resolve. It was the last sight he had of her before he turned his back, determined that she’d have a safer life in the surface world. It was the last time he’d see her in person, though news of her brilliance traveled quickly.

In the dream, the recollection ended in a swirl of sorrow and regret. The glow of her final tear-filled gaze turned the dream into blackness.

Levi’s eyes snapped open. His body jerked upright, pulling him away from the blanket. His breath was quick, and a thin film of sweat covered his brow. The old HQ was still quiet, and it took a moment for him to recall where he was. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling. Outside, the first hints of early dawn were beginning to color the sky with a muted gray. He cleared his throat, feeling an ache in his chest that he rarely let himself acknowledge.

It had been years since he abandoned her. Pen. He hadn’t seen her since. Word reached him that she had excelled in medical studies, that she’d been recognized by Wall Sina’s highest authorities. A brilliant mind. He had always known that would happen. She was destined for more than the Underground. He picked up his canteen from a small wooden table nearby and took a long gulp of water, trying to steady his thoughts. The swirl of emotions that dream had dredged up was threatening to overwhelm him.

He pictured her face again—her red hair, her gold eyes, the way her lips curved into that fearless grin. He imagined her now, older, wearing that doctor’s coat he’d heard she always sported. He remembered how her presence alone lit up a room, how men seemed to trip over themselves at the sight of her. He wondered if she still had that short fuse, that fiery personality that frequently brought out both a grin and an exasperated sigh in him. He also remembered the way her fists could pack a punch if she got mad enough.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “She’d probably kill me on sight.” A humorless huff escaped his mouth at the thought. She was passionate in everything she did—laughing, loving, and definitely fighting. She could hold her own, and that memory always filled him with a quiet pride.

He sighed, capping his canteen and setting it aside. Part of him wished he could see her again, if only to see how she’d grown, how she carried herself. Another part of him knew he had no right to disrupt her life. She had established a place of respect and security in Wall Sina. The chance of him dying on any given mission was high, and he didn’t want to drag her back into that pit of uncertainty and fear. Or, at least, that was how he had always justified his decisions. He told himself it was better for her to live a normal, stable life. She deserved that much after everything she’d been through.

A distant commotion in the hallway told him that the others were stirring. Likely, they were gearing up for whatever orders would come next from Erwin or trying to rouse Eren for an early morning training session. Levi considered lying back down, but he knew he wouldn’t find sleep again, not after the memory of her face had been so vividly etched into his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, fighting off the urge to slip into old regrets.

At last, he rose from his makeshift bed and began pulling on his boots. He steeled himself with an exhale, reminding himself that he had a duty—to Humanity, to the Scouts, to the future beyond these walls. Pen was safe in Wall Sina, living out what he prayed was a better life. Though he felt a pang of longing, or perhaps guilt, gnawing at his chest, he forced it to the back of his mind with practiced ease. He had to be the soldier, humanity’s strongest, the man who put his own desires aside in favor of duty.

Still, even as he made his way to the door, the memory of that brilliant, red-haired girl lingered. The Underground was far behind him, yet that place and that girl continued to shape who he was. She had once been his brightest spot in the darkness. And, though he would never say it aloud, a sliver of him still hoped that she was happy, even if she cursed his name for all the bitterness he had left in her heart.

He cleared his throat again, stepping out into the corridor. Whatever the day brought, he would face it with the same unwavering determination. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d carry the reminder of that dream—of a fierce, bright-eyed orphan girl who once stole his heart in a lonely alley beneath the world.

…

Later on that day, the evening sun glinted off the worn cobblestone streets of Wall Rose as Levi, Erwin, and Hange made their way through the bustling main avenue. Dust motes swirled in the warm light, and the air was charged with the everyday rhythm of merchants hawking their wares, soldiers passing by on errands, and townsfolk going about their routines.

Despite the war with the Titans looming on everyone’s minds, life still tried to forge ahead within the walls. Levi walked slightly ahead of the other two, his posture ever-straight, scanning every nook and cranny out of habit. Erwin strode calmly beside him, towering over the shorter man, while Hange lingered at Erwin’s other side, eyes wandering in fascination at the hustle and bustle around them.

They were en route to a small garrison outpost, a routine visit to coordinate resources for the Scouts. Erwin wanted to ensure their supply lines remained stable. Hange was tagging along, half out of curiosity and half to glean any interesting bits of information about local Titan-related rumors. They walked in relative silence, each lost in their thoughts, until a sudden uproar echoed from a nearby side street.

A sharp, angry cry cut through the ordinary din of the crowd. Over the heads of passersby, there was a flurry of movement—an altercation was unfolding. Levi, as always, was the first to react. His sharp gray eyes darted toward the commotion, and he angled his body in that direction without a word. Erwin and Hange quickly followed suit, pushing gently through clusters of onlookers.

When they reached the scene, a ring of townspeople had formed around the fight. At its center, a shock of bright rose-red hair caught Levi’s attention. A kid—no more than eleven or twelve—was ferociously grappling with four other boys, each of whom seemed older, taller, and heftier than him. Yet the red-headed boy was holding his own with startling ease. In fact, from what Levi could see, the kid was winning. Again and again, he threw calculated, powerful punches and deft sidesteps, all with a fierce snarl on his face. His movements were swift and surprisingly precise, betraying a skill that didn’t match his small frame.

Hange gasped softly. “That kid… he’s wiping the floor with them,” she said, her tone wavering between surprise and fascination.

Erwin furrowed his brow, carefully observing. “He’s well-trained. Either someone taught him how to fight, or he’s been picking this up on the streets.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the color of the boy’s hair: a rose-red hue so distinct it sent a ripple of unease through his chest. It reminded him of someone he used to know… a woman whose memory still haunted his dreams. Penelope. 

But how could that be? 

He reminded himself to stay focused on the present. For all he knew, there could be a whole family somewhere with a similar hair color. Yet, an odd tension built in his gut.

Meanwhile, the kid growled, landing a solid strike on one of his bigger opponents, sending the taller boy staggering. The child’s stance, his fists clenched, his expression… something about that ferocity tugged at Levi’s mind. A part of him saw traces of himself in that furious look. But he shoved aside the thought. Right now, the important thing was to prevent a serious injury.

Erwin placed a firm hand on Levi’s shoulder. “We should break this up before the situation gets out of hand.”

Levi gave a short nod and stepped forward. At the moment, the red-headed kid had pinned one of the older boys to the ground and was about to unleash another blow. “Oi,” Levi barked, voice cutting through the clamor. “Stop it, brat.”

His words caused the kid to freeze, albeit briefly. The boy’s eyes flicked toward Levi—sharp, full of resentment, and so startlingly intense for a child. Slowly, he let go of the boy he’d pinned, who scrambled backward, coughing. But the kid did not stand down. Instead, he rose to his feet, tense as a spring, fists still curled.

“I said, enough,” Levi repeated, stepping closer, holding the kid’s gaze without blinking.

Suddenly, the boy lunged at Levi, swinging his fist in a wild arc. The surrounding onlookers gasped. Erwin’s eyes widened, while Hange practically jolted in surprise, exclaiming, “He’s attacking Levi!?”

Levi sidestepped with practiced ease, quick as a shadow, and seized the boy’s wrist in a fluid motion. He twisted the child’s arm behind his back and pressed him down, keeping his own movements controlled to avoid seriously hurting the kid. He’d subdued grown criminals this way back in the Underground, so a child presented almost no challenge. Still, he was mindful not to break anything.

“Calm down,” Levi said in a low voice, forcing the boy’s face toward the ground. “You’re picking a fight you can’t win.”

The boy thrashed, gritting his teeth. “Get off me!” he spat, voice seething with hatred. He tried to kick backward, but Levi shifted his weight, making escape impossible.

“You’re quite a handful,” Erwin said, stepping closer, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. “We’d like to talk, if you’ll allow it. Can you tell us your name?”

“Go to hell,” the kid snapped, then spat at Erwin’s feet, his eyes flashing with defiance.

Hange let out a low whistle. “You’ve got some nerve, kid.” She leaned over, squinting at the scowling face.

Erwin maintained his composure, though an undercurrent of tension passed through him. “Young man,” he began again, voice calm but unyielding, “this is dangerous behavior. If you’re having trouble, we can help. But you need to cooperate.”

“Like I need the help of a bunch of worthless soldiers,” the boy snarled, his tone dripping scorn.

Levi clicked his tongue and twisted the boy’s arm just enough to make him freeze. “Watch your mouth, brat. You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to throw you in a cell for assaulting soldiers.”

The kid’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, it seemed like he might break. But then that fierce glint returned, and he clenched his jaw. “My name… it’s Preston.” The words came out as more of a hiss than an introduction. “Now let go of me.”

Erwin exchanged a glance with Hange, who looked equally intrigued. Erwin cleared his throat and asked, “Where are your parents? Why are you fighting out here on the streets instead of being in school?”

Preston spat again, narrowly missing Levi’s boots this time. “None of your business.”

“Tch,” Levi muttered, pressing down a bit harder. “You realize you’re in no position to argue, right?”

Preston winced but refused to show fear. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

The four older boys who had been on the receiving end of Preston’s beating were now stumbling to their feet. They looked from Levi to Erwin to Hange, clearly recognizing the uniforms of the Survey Corps. A few of them muttered apologies and scurried away from the scene, rubbing bruises and casting fearful glances over their shoulders. One, braver than the rest, or maybe just more foolish, pointed accusingly at Preston. “He started it, sirs,” the boy said in a shaky voice. “He was buying a knife, and when we told him that was dangerous and tried to take it—”

“Liar!” Preston barked. “You tried to steal it from me!”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. “A knife? At your age?”

Preston’s expression was mutinous. “Mind your own business,” he repeated.

Erwin offered a small nod to the older boy, effectively dismissing him. The group took that as their cue to leave, quickly dragging their feet in retreat. Once they had disappeared around the corner, the crowd that had gathered also began dispersing, though quite a few lingered at a distance, curious. The trio of Scouts stood around the subdued child.

Hange stepped closer, leaning in to examine the knife handle peeking out from inside the boy’s coat. She carefully pulled it free and studied it, her eyebrows lifting in surprise at the good-quality steel. “How’d a schoolboy like you manage to get the money for something like this?” she asked, her tone more gentle than Levi’s. “Where do you go to school anyway?”

Preston, his arm still pinned, remained stubbornly silent. Hange held the knife, her expression turning inquisitive. “Looks new. So you just bought this, right?”

Levi, meanwhile, felt a tension growing with every passing second. This boy… Preston… The mention of the red hair, the attitude, the fighting skill—it all coiled in Levi’s gut like a warning. He tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “Answer the question. Why’re you carrying this around?”

Finally, Preston bit out a bitter explanation. “Because I wanted it, alright? People like you always tell us to be safe, but you never protect us. I don’t need anybody else defending me. I can do it on my own.”

Levi studied the boy’s face. Up close, he could see the faint freckles across his nose, the angry flush in his cheeks, and those grey eyes brimming with defiance. An almost unnerving sense of familiarity prickled the back of Levi’s mind, though he couldn’t place it precisely. He released a slow breath and eased his grip on the boy’s arm. “Listen, you’re a kid, so I’m giving you a chance. But you can’t just go around swinging knives in these streets.”

Preston’s lip curled. “Let me go.”

Erwin, who had been watching carefully, stepped forward. “Preston,” he asked, voice even. “We only want to ensure you’re safe. If you are in some sort of trouble, we can help.”

The boy’s eyes flickered with barely contained fury. “I’m not telling you anything. You soldiers think you know everything, but you don’t know a damn thing about me.” The hostility in his tone was unmistakable.

Levi slowly unpinned him, but he kept a hand on the boy’s shoulder as a warning. “Kid, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

At that, Hange gave Preston a small grin, though it was tinged with exasperation. “This short soldier you just tried to fight? That’s Captain Levi, Humanity’s Strongest.” She expected to see awe or at least respect flash across the boy’s features, but instead, Preston rolled his eyes.

“I don’t give two shits who he is,” the kid scoffed. “He’s not my boss, and he’s not that impressive.”

Hange nearly choked on a laugh, while Erwin blinked at the sheer gall. Levi, on the other hand, remained perfectly still, though a vein in his forehead seemed close to popping. “You’re a mouthy brat,” he said in a clipped tone. “And maybe you need a lesson in manners.”

“Maybe you need a lesson in not picking on kids, Captain Levi,” Preston retorted.

Levi released an impatient sigh. His tolerance was wearing thin, but something kept him from taking a harsher approach. Perhaps it was the rawness of the boy’s anger, or the uncanny pang of recognition that wouldn’t leave Levi’s mind. Instead of snapping back with cruelty, he looked up at Erwin and shook his head. “He’s not going to talk, at least not here.”

Erwin nodded, thinking quickly. “We can’t force him to come with us if he hasn’t technically broken a law beyond this street brawl,” he said quietly, though his gaze drifted to the knife Hange still held. “But he’s carrying a weapon, and he did try to assault soldiers. That’s enough reason to bring him in for questioning.”

Preston tensed, his features darkening in alarm. “You can’t just haul me away! I haven’t done anything wrong except defend what’s mine.”

Levi looked at him, a cool calm settling on his face. “You fought four older kids and pulled a knife on them. You attacked me. That’s more than enough reason for me to bring you in.”

Preston glanced around, as though weighing escape routes. But he must have realized it was pointless—Levi’s reflexes were far beyond anything he could match. He ground his teeth. “If I get arrested, my mom’s gonna kill me,” he muttered under his breath, sounding more like a frustrated child than a hardened delinquent.

A flicker of interest crossed Erwin’s face. “Your mother?”

Preston clammed up immediately, pressing his lips together. Levi felt his stomach churn at that single word. The mental image of a certain red-haired woman flashed across his mind. Could it really be…? 

Hange touched Erwin’s arm lightly. “Commander, maybe we should handle this more discreetly. If we keep standing here, the tension isn’t going to help. We’re drawing a crowd, and it’s not exactly the best look for the Scouts to be grappling with a child in the open.”

Erwin looked around, noticing the stares of bystanders. Some onlookers watched in sympathy for the boy; others showed uneasy distrust toward the uniformed soldiers. Erwin nodded gravely. “Agreed. Let’s move.”

Levi grabbed Preston by the collar with a strong but measured grip. “You’re coming with us. We’ll talk somewhere quieter.”

“You can’t do this,” Preston hissed, feet digging into the ground. He cast a frantic look back to the main street as if expecting someone to appear. But no one came.

Levi leaned in, speaking quietly, “Watch me, kid.” He steered the boy forward, ignoring the string of curses that fell from Preston’s mouth. Erwin and Hange flanked them, making sure the child had no avenue of escape. Together, they guided him down the street, away from the prying eyes of the crowd.

As they walked, Levi’s thoughts raced. The kid’s attitude alone was enough to remind him of Penelope—she had always been fiercely independent, never backing down from a fight. And that hair, that vibrant shade of red… it was almost too much of a coincidence. Levi felt an involuntary clench in his chest. An echo of old memories threatened to surface. He had no concrete proof, of course, that this brat was connected to her. But the suspicion nagged at him.

Twelve years ago, he had left Penelope behind, forcing himself to crush whatever hopes and dreams they’d shared in the Underground. He had done it for her own good, or so he had told himself. But there had always been a sting of regret gnawing at him in quiet moments. Now, seeing this boy with rose-red hair and an unmistakable fiery temperament, Levi felt a swirl of unease that he couldn’t entirely articulate.

Hange, walking at his side, caught Levi’s eye and gave him a meaningful look. She seemed to sense his tension, though she said nothing. Erwin’s calm composure never wavered, but Levi could tell from the hard line of the Commander’s jaw that he was also deep in thought. He remembered that Erwin had once been involved in securing Penelope’s citizenship above ground, paying for her schooling as a part of the deal he made with Levi in exchange for him joining the Scouts. The memory was hazy, but it came back now with alarming clarity.

Preston continued to resist each tug and push, practically vibrating with anger, but he had run out of words. Every once in a while, he shot Levi a murderous glare, only to be met with Levi’s unflinching, impassive stare. In a whispered voice that only Levi caught, the kid seethed, “I won’t talk. You can’t make me.”

Levi’s grip on the boy’s collar tightened slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

They headed toward a quieter side street, not entirely sure how this confrontation would unfold, but each step fueled by the silent question burning in Levi’s mind: Was this child simply a random brat from Wall Sina, or was there a deeper connection that threatened to upend everything he thought he had sacrificed so long ago? 

The tension in the air was nearly palpable, and Levi couldn’t help but feel as though each stride brought him closer to an inescapable truth—one that he wasn’t certain he was ready to face.

Levi tightened his hold on Preston’s collar, leading the boy down the narrower back streets of Wall Rose. At first, Preston’s anger still blazed in the set of his jaw, and he clawed at Levi’s grip with a hot scowl on his face. But as they continued walking, the child’s struggles began to subside. His eyes darted around as if he were scanning for an escape route, but it was soon clear he realized that resistance was futile. Instead, his expression shifted from brash defiance to something bordering on worry.

He glanced up at Levi, then quickly averted his gaze, muttering under his breath, “Hurry up and let me go, please.”

Levi’s brows drew together. The slight waver in the kid’s voice made it apparent he wasn’t scared of the soldiers. There was something else going on. “Why the sudden change in attitude?” Levi asked, though the question came out sounding more like a challenge than a genuine inquiry.

Preston exhaled, glancing at the ground. “If my mom finds out about this… I’m as good as dead.”

Hange, trailing slightly behind, leaned forward, curiosity lighting up her eyes. “Oh? And why is that?” she asked, sounding genuinely intrigued by the boy’s worry.

Preston’s lips pressed into a line for a long moment. Finally, he gave a resigned sigh. “Because she’s crazy!” he blurted, shaking his head as if he could barely believe he was saying it aloud. “She’s gonna kill me if she finds out I skipped school. And then she’ll kill me again for fighting in the streets.”

Erwin, who had been walking beside them with measured strides, traded a significant look with Levi. He could sense the boy’s fear was real. “Who is she?” the Commander asked quietly. “And why are you skipping school to buy a weapon in the first place?”

Preston shrugged, then tried to twist away from Levi’s grip. “I told you I’m not telling you anything else!”

Levi’s fingers clenched just enough to keep the kid in place. “You’re better off cooperating.” He paused, realizing the boy might respond to a more direct question. “Where is your mother right now?”

Preston opened his mouth to snap back but stopped. “She’s at work,” he eventually mumbled. “She’s a doctor,” he added, looking miserable. “A real big-shot doctor who thinks she can tell me what to do every second of the day.”

The moment Preston uttered the word doctor, Erwin and Levi froze in unison. They exchanged another glance, their suspicions swiftly solidifying into certainty. Hange, noticing their abrupt reaction, tilted her head. “A doctor, you say? In Wall Sina?” she asked, glancing between Erwin and Levi with growing confusion. “You two look like you just saw a ghost.”

Before Levi could even form a coherent response, a sharp clacking of heels echoed behind them in the alley. The sound bounced off the stone walls, purposeful and brisk. Levi recognized that particular cadence of footsteps all too well—though he hadn’t heard it in years.

He turned first, and there she was, striding toward them with startling poise.

Dr. Penelope Iverson.

Her waist-length, rose-red hair cascaded in loose curls over her shoulders, and her fitted clothes showed the same bold style he remembered from the Underground—though now refined by wealth and status. A white doctor’s coat was draped over her arm, and she looked every inch the successful professional. Yet it was her face that struck Levi like a blow to the chest: the fierce gold eyes, the wide mouth pressed into a determined line, the two deep dimples that betrayed her when her expression shifted.

Levi’s heart pounded in his ears. She was older, yes, but time had only added to her presence. The memory of that bright-eyed, feisty teenager in the Underground collided with the reality of this accomplished, breathtaking woman before him. His grip on Preston’s collar loosened, almost unconsciously.

Penelope stormed closer, her heels punctuating every step. A smoldering fury flickered across her features as she took in the sight of her son subdued by three uniformed Scouts. Then her gaze locked on Levi, and time seemed to stand still.

For one brief, silent moment, they simply stared at each other. Levi’s lips parted, but no words came out. Images spun through his mind in a chaotic rush—her tearful face the night he left, the savage guilt he’d carried ever since, the memory of dreaming about her just the night before. He swallowed, unsure how to navigate the storm of regret that threatened to overwhelm him.

Penelope’s lips trembled as she recalled the last time she’d laid eyes on him, along with the cruel words that had ended everything between them. She remembered how he had told her to move on, that she was better off without him, that she was nothing but a distraction. And she remembered how, two weeks later, she realized she was pregnant.

She took a shaky breath and looked from Levi to Preston, who was now trying to edge behind Levi in apparent terror of her wrath. When she fixed her gaze again on Levi, tears threatened behind that fiery glare, but her anger remained front and center.

In a flash, she reached out and slapped Levi hard across the cheek.

The sharp crack echoed through the alley. Hange’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes going round. Erwin, usually so composed, looked momentarily rattled, as though caught off guard by the raw force of the blow. Meanwhile, Preston peered out from behind Levi, wide-eyed and thoroughly vindicated in his claim that his mother was, indeed, crazy.

Levi stood rigid, head tilted slightly from the impact, but he made no move to retaliate. His cheek stung, but the pain felt dull compared to the tumult of emotions swirling in his chest. For an instant, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, so instead he stared down at the cobblestones.

Penelope’s voice trembled with barely contained rage. “You have some nerve, Levi.” She said his name as if it were a curse, and her hand was still poised in front of her, palm tingling from the slap. “After all these years… do you even—” Her breath hitched. “Never mind.”

She turned her attention to her son, her eyes narrowing. “And you,” she said, stepping around Levi to face Preston. “You are skipping school again!? I had to hear about you fighting in the streets from one of my patients.”

Preston had the good sense to look ashamed, though he tried to mask it with annoyance. “Mom, I—”

“Don’t Mom me right now,” Penelope snapped, crossing her arms. “You and I are going to have a very long talk when we get home.”

Preston swallowed hard, then looked around, almost as though searching for an ally. Hange, clearly baffled, stared from Penelope to Levi, then back to Erwin. “Is… is someone going to fill me in on what is happening?” Hange asked, clearly not used to being out of the loop.

Erwin cleared his throat, stepping into the tense silence. “Dr. Iverson,” he said, addressing Penelope respectfully, “it has been a long time. I’m not sure if you remember me from when we—”

Penelope cut him off with an abrupt wave of her hand. “I remember you, Commander Erwin,” she said, though her tone was still laced with anger. “I appreciate what you did all those years ago to help me secure a place in Wall Sina. My medical education wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. But right now, I need to know why the hell you have my son in custody.”

Erwin inclined his head, acknowledging her right to be furious. “We spotted him fighting with four other boys,” he explained. “He assaulted them quite brutally, then tried to attack Captain Levi when we intervened.”

Penelope shot Preston a fierce glare. “Attacking a soldier? Are you out of your mind?” But her next glance flickered over to Levi, and the weight of old resentment flashed in her eyes. “Although I can’t entirely blame you,” she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a bitter smirk.

Preston shifted uncomfortably. “They were trying to steal from me,” he mumbled. “I just… I had to fight back.”

Penelope exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead. “We’ll deal with the whys later,” she said, shaking her head. “For now, you’re coming home.” She turned back to Levi, the fury in her gaze not entirely cooled. “Let him go. I don’t want you touching him anymore.”

Levi, still reeling from both the slap and her sudden appearance, relaxed his hold on Preston’s collar. The kid edged away, eyes darting between his mother and the short soldier who’d manhandled him. The silence that followed was thick with tension, memories unspoken, and a swirl of questions.

Hange coughed discreetly. “I’m guessing you two… know each other,” she said, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

Levi stepped back, keeping his gaze on Penelope. For a moment, he felt the familiar urge to clamp down on every emotion swirling inside him, show no vulnerability, remain the stoic Captain. But everything about this situation was too raw, too personal to ignore. “Yes, we… had history,” he said quietly, voice catching on the last word.

Penelope’s gaze flickered to him. For a split second, the harsh anger softened, replaced by a deep hurt. Then she straightened her spine, forcing her composure back into place. “We certainly did,” she said, her voice low with bitterness.

Erwin, sensing the personal nature of the conversation, discreetly signaled to Hange that they should give Levi and Penelope a moment. Hange nodded, though she was clearly itching to ask a hundred questions. “We’ll be just around the corner if you need anything,” Erwin said. “There’s a small courtyard nearby. We should move away from the public eye.”

Penelope gave a terse nod. “Fine. Let’s not make a scene.”

With that unsteady truce, they began walking, though the tension remained palpable. Penelope’s eyes never left Levi, and each step seemed fraught with the past. Meanwhile, Preston dragged his feet behind them, hands jammed into his pockets, glaring at everything and everyone as though he resented being the center of this sudden storm.

They reached the courtyard Erwin had mentioned, a quiet space with a modest fountain and a few benches. The sun had climbed higher, illuminating patches of greenery that lined the walls. The thick hush continued as they gathered there. For a moment, no one spoke. Erwin and Hange stayed at a polite distance while Levi stood facing Penelope, searching for the right words but finding none.

Penelope refused to look away, her jaw set. “So,” she said at last, her tone icy. “You’re still alive.”

Levi exhaled, choosing to absorb that pointed remark rather than rebut it. “You look well,” he managed, though his voice was taut with tension. “I… heard you became a doctor.”

Her lips twisted in a half-sarcastic smile. “Yes, thanks to you walking out on me, I had all the motivation in the world to pour my soul into studying.” She shook her head. “You never wrote. Never came to see me. You left me in the dark. Did you think I wouldn’t survive without you?”

Levi’s chest tightened. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he finally said, though the words sounded hollow even to him. “I wanted you safe. Away from… everything.”

Penelope’s anger flared again, but before she could unleash the storm of words that likely burned on her tongue, Preston spoke up, voice quavering, “Mom… can we just go now?”

She shot her son a withering look, though her anger wasn’t directed at him so much as at the entire situation. “We’re going,” she affirmed. Then she turned back to Levi one last time. Her gaze pinned him in place. “Don’t ever touch my son again.”

With that, she took Preston by the arm and began to lead him away. He followed, half sulking, half relieved to be out of Levi’s grasp. Erwin started to call after them, perhaps out of concern that further explanation was needed, but Levi lifted a hand, signaling the Commander to let them go.

Penelope strode off across the courtyard, her red curls swaying with each purposeful step, Preston in tow. The sight of them together was almost surreal to Levi—mother and child, a life that had clearly gone on without him. He stood there, jaw clenched, unable to shake the image of her furious eyes or the faint tremor he’d felt in her hand when she slapped him.

Hange finally broke the silence that stretched too long. “Well,” she said softly, “that was… eventful.”

Erwin regarded Levi with a solemn expression. “We need to talk later, when you’re ready,” he said, placing a firm hand on Levi’s shoulder. “But for now, let’s give them space.”

Levi nodded slowly, his mind elsewhere. His cheek still throbbed, but the bruise forming there was nothing compared to the raw ache in his chest. He stared after Penelope and Preston until they disappeared, lost in the crowd and the afternoon sun, wondering if this was the start of a reckoning he’d spent over a decade trying to avoid.

~

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[noodlewritez]

Dirty thief

Pairings: Carl Grimes x Savior!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Negan's kid!reader, hate sex (But they actually hate each other so no kissy kissy stuff), really gross, sloppy oral (M!recieving), cussing

It was 3:39 AM. You throw your rope over the side fence of Alexandria. Sneaking your way around to the armory, unaware of the blue eye watching you from across the street.

Earlier that day, you had gone with your dad's right hand man, Dwight as he was picking up supplies. You saw the armory, looking through the door window, seeing the guns, the gorgeous detail on the guns. Knowing your dad, Negan, wouldn't let you have a gun, you planned to take one, in the middle of the night when no one was awake. You knew they had guard watchers for the main gate and the main gate only so you had to go through the woods to get to the side. You land in a cul-de-sac, running lowly so no one could suspect anything.

You make it to the armory, slamming your body harshly but quietly against the door, popping it open. You're suddenly on the ground, tackled by a tall teenager, someone around your age. You could barely make out any features, the only recognizable trait being the hat you saw on the leader's son that day. This should be easy.

You get up and punch him in the jaw then he pushes you to the ground. "You fucking thief!” He whispers harshly at you, pinning your wrists to the wood floor. You kick him in the hip, getting up and attempting to run before he grabs your leg and slides you under him, straddling you now.

You notice the bulge in his jeans and you smirk and stop fighting back, letting him keep your wrists pinned. "Are you fucking enjoying this?" You spit harshly. His eyes widen but he quickly tries to hide his surprise that you noticed the state he's in.

"Shut the fuck up." He growls. "Tell me that all you want, but I'm not the one who's harder than a fucking rock, now am I? You fucking like that you pinned me down and you sure like the idea of us fucking so cut to the chase and do it already." You spit. He contemplates, still pinning you down, straddling you then rolls his eyes. "You better make this fucking quick."

He releases your wrists, standing up and unbuckling his belt while leaning against the nearest wall. You follow, waiting for him to fish himself out of his own jeans. You roll your eyes as you get fed up. "Jesus fucking Christ, do I have to do everything for you?" You dig his hard, angry cock out of his jeans, sliding them down to his ankles. He takes control, his fingers, digging into your hair as you take him in your mouth. "Fuck, do I have to do this everytime to shut you up?" He pants.

Your spit drips down onto the wood floor and down the throat he was using, soaking your shirt. You fingers hook around the back of his legs, pushing him further down your throat, now feeling him deep in your throat, your nose now buried in his loins. Now, you can fucking taste his sweet precum as he whines, moaning. His hands fasten his movement on your head, up and down his hard length, throwing his head back. "God...dammit..." He gasps, he was getting close.

You pull off of him, standing up to remove your shorts and your soaked panties and shirt when he picks your right thigh up, his other hand pumping his cock and rubbing it against your clit, teasing you. "You said you wanted this to be quick." You try not to whine at the sensation, scratching his back harshly, possibly drawing blood. He inhales sharply and slams into you, feeling all eight inches inside your spongy insides. He lifts up by your other thigh, pressing your whole body against the wall, biting our shoulder, making you hiss.

He starts pumping into you relentlessly, utterly using you to get himself off. You pant and squeeze your eyes closed as you try not to make a pleasurable sound, not giving him what he wants but god, the way he was pounding right on your spot. You moan, scratching his back, digging into his back. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." You chant, getting dizzy as you feel your orgasm building itself up.

You dig your nails into his back and squeeze your eyes shut once more, waiting for the orgasm to hit you as there was no sign of him stopping. He feels you clenching and slows his place, smirking. Your eyes open. "What... the fuck?!" You pull back, looking him in the eyes with an angry look. "Oh...I'm sorry, did i stop something?" He smirks. "Want me to keep going?" He coos mockingly.

"Keep fuckin' going, Grimes." You growl and with that, his hips start snapping against yours once again. You throw your head back against the wood walls and bite. "If only you looked as good as you fucked, Grimes, Christ...." You whine as his pace picks up. "This is all your fucking good for. Just a hole for me to fuck." He pants, looking down at you sucking him in, the sight getting him off more than it fucking should. You feel your orgasm crawl back closer to you, your hands finding his scalp and pulling his hair.

"God...."

He smirks, finding pleasure in you trying to hide your sounds. "Fuck, anyone else know what a little slut you are, or do you save it just for me?" He growls in your ear and fuck, that's what breaks you. You cum all over him, coating him, you throw your head back, pulling his hair tighter in between your fingers as you moan loudly.

"God, you are just a fucking slut, liking it when I insult you." he smirks, pounding non-stop until he groans and leans his weight on you, spilling into you. "Fuck...Fuck." He moans.

He pulls out, both of you standing on wobbly legs now. You pull your shorts on, strutting out of the door as confident as you can muster as you pull your shirt on.

You don't see him again until Dwight takes you for the ride to another supply pick-up. You get out of the truck to see him except this time clothed. You flush as you see him, walking towards him when Dwight wasn't looking. "You're limping." He bites back a smile. You roll your eyes, that's all you need.

"Until next time?" He looks you up and down then winks at you.

Next time?

[tildeathiwillwrite]

LMAOOOOO He would hate that she calls him Heck but there's nothing he can do about it!!! I'm imagining a "tag along to catch some criminals!" interaction to go something like

Hector: whatever happens, you stay by Luc Lutian: *lying* sure thing Heck Luc, internally: is this a punishment? Did I do something wrong?

And no one gets seriously hurt but Hector and Luc have to rescue aforementioned criminals from some Home Alone-style shenanigans. Crime in the city significantly decreases after that night. Hector gains several new gray hairs.

OC Interaction Tag Game

My thanks to @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag! Sorry it took so long!

Rules: Provide a short description of your OC, then using the description given by the person who tagged you, describe how you think the two of them would interact.

Tagger's OC: Hector Epsilona is Caenum's resident Watcher (which is a detective/bodyguard/mercenary-type job). He knows the law (and its loopholes) very well, and uses both extensively, and enjoys a small amount of freedom to operate outside the law if he sees fit. He is extremely protective of and attached to those he cares about, especially his apprentice, Luc. He is generally polite, if a bit stern, and is always looking for a way to turn something into a lesson.

My OC: The Wheel has chosen...

Lutian!

Lutian is the 12-year-old crown princess of Knithren. She's good at pretty much everything, though she's not exceptional in any one field. For her age, though, she has a surprising grasp of wizardry, able to produce simple forces and temporarily create basic elements. She can be polite, but she prefers to be casual or mildly insulting, and loves playing tricks on people. She's only just begun to lay out a personal philosophy, but she practically idolizes her father and does her best not to do anything he seriously disapproves of, so she keeps her word and tries not to cause lasting harm to the people she nuisances. She abhors minders.

Their Interaction: Lutian would appreciate Hector's (or "Heck", as she's more likely to call him) deep knowledge of the law and the virtues he shares with her father, but she'd probably appreciate them from a distance. They wouldn't personally like each other all that much, as his stern nature and her hatred of being minded would clash almost immediately. The most surefire way to mend their relationship would be if Heck would let her "tag along to catch some criminals!" She'd let him lead the way and listen to what wisdom he has gladly so long as she can get a piece of the action.

NP tagging @pluppsauthor, @elizaellwrites, @aalinaaaaaa, and open tag!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 160 (Blast From the Past)

Felix pulled back anxiously as the blonde woman read his rights, a righteous anger creasing her dark brows. "Last I saw you, you floated up to me on my wedding day and begged me to run from my husband to join you as a ghost!"

"You what?" Lilith looked between them with a nervous smile.

"I..." Felix stammered. "I was still processing everything, Lil. I've had more than enough time to let go; it's been a century and a half."

"At least we hope so," she lamented, remembering they were here without Emit. She turned to the angry woman she suspected was her great-great-grandmother, Maude Alcorn Ruggbyrne. "Ma'am, do you know what day it is?"

The blonde cocked her head sideways. "July 13, 1920, of course! How don't you know that? Are you both dead?"

Felix reeled. "July 13th? You're certain?"

Maude pointed to a newspaper strewn across a nearby bench. "That's the paper I write for. Today's edition."

"We're a day early," he said to Lilith.

She frowned. "I must've set the wrong date on the device after we jumped from January 13th, 2020."

"What in blazes are you two talking about?" cried the blonde. "Felix, are you dead or not? And who in Watcher's name is she with all those nails in her face?!"

Felix and Lilith glanced helplessly between themselves. They weren't supposed to do anything that might change history, and they weren't supposed to tell anyone who they were, either. But Felix couldn't exactly lie to someone who knew beyond a doubt who he was. "They're piercings. Maude, and her name is Lilith Pleasant. She's my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend!" she cried. "You...you were dead!"

"I was! For almost a century and a half," he said, leading the three of them to a nearby bench. "But a few years ago...In the future, I...I was still a ghost, and I made some friends who cooked up some ambrosia for me. You know how much I wished I could live again. Where I came from, Britechester looks pretty much the same as now, but it's been a long, long time."

"That old wives' tale about fish cakes is real?" He nodded, and Maude's face softened. "Why are you back here?"

"Lilith and I are helping a friend catch a time thief, but we overshot our landing by about 24 hours."

Maude looked at them as though they had two heads. "Felix, are you telling me tall tales? You sound like they just rolled you out of the asylum!"

"I promise it's not like that," he vowed. "But everything we tell you, we need to you to promise never to tell another soul."

"I'm a reporter, Felix! Telling the world the truth is my job."

"The world isn't ready for this. I'm not sure you're ready for this..."

"Spill it," she demanded. "Convince me your painted jumpsuits weren't issued by a psychiatric ward!"

"Could we go somewhere more private to talk? Maybe find a change of clothes so we don't stick out too much?"

Maude thought for a moment, studying Lilith with a discerning glare. "You're sure we can trust her? She looks spiky."

Felix laughed. "She's a lot like you."

Backhanded compliment or not, Maude appreciated the thought, studying Lilith with keen interest. "Berend's in Komorebi trying to become the first sim to scale the mountain, and Bruno's with his governess. I think she could fit into some of my roomier skirts."

Lilith laughed, unfazed. "She's not like me. She's more like Angela!"

"And who's Angela? Another girlfriend?"

Felix shook his head. "No, she's your great-great-granddaughter. And so's Lilith."

Maude's stunned expression remained until they'd made it to her two-storey home in Britechester. She lived here with her husband and three-year-old-son, but the elegant rooms were empty of voices when they entered.

Maude quickly found some clothes for Lilith to change into. "That hat hides the metal on your face quite nicely," she enthused.

Lilith forced a smile. None of the clothes she was wearing were her style, and she hated tucking her bright red hair under a hat. But she and Felix were stuck here waiting for Emit and the time thief to arrive the next day. She had to make the best of this.

Despite the rules they were supposed to follow, Felix and Lilith told Maude almost everything - about the ambrosia, about falling in love and Maude's connection to Lil's family tree. They showed her the time travelling device, and explained their mission to prevent a time thief from changing too much about the future.

But they didn't mention the young Landgraab behind the device - even in 1920, the name was too well known, and they'd promised Heather and Conrad they'd help protect him.

Maude listened intently, sitting before a portrait with her husband and young son - Lilith's ancestor, Bruno Ruggbyrne. "I never met my great-grandfather," said Lilith, but my grandmother Coral used to tell us he was the biggest charmer you'd ever meet."

"That sounds like Bruno." Maude smiled intently as she glanced at the portrait. "But Felix has been around a long time. It's a bit strange he's never found another soulmate except my own kin."

Lilith shook her head. "I think it makes sense. If he married you, my sister and I would have never been born. Bruno would have never been born."

Maude's face fell. "So this was meant to be? I was always supposed to be with Berend and you were supposed to live happily ever after with a girl with piercings in her face?"

"Lil's beautiful, Maude. She's your kin, after all."

"I think...you really love her," Maude said, rapidly processing this new information.

"I do. As much as you love Berend. Maybe more."

Maude smiled proudly. "My boss wanted me to quit the Times when Bruno came along, but Berend marched right downtown to insist I keep reporting to show our son what a hard worker looks like. When the boss promised to let me keep my job, Berend told him I'd take his job one day, too."

Felix was well aware of the future and he knew this was true, but he refrained from mentioning it. As long as things stayed the same, he didn't need to tell Maude what she would accomplish in her life. "I know I wasn't happy for you before, but a lot can change in a hundred-fifty years. I think you and Berend truly were meant to be."

"And I think Felix was always meant for me," said Lilith. "Before I met him I was stuck in a cycle dating an endless stream of losers and dreamers who didn't really care about me, but Felix showed me what it was to be really loved."

The corners of Maude's mouth turned upward. "Felix was always a good man. He let me pursue my career and didn't rush us into marriage, and I appreciated him for it every day...until the day he died on me. It's hard to overstate how important it is for a woman to be seen on the arm of a man to survive in this world, and after Felix' death, Berend offered opportunity. And I do love him, Felix. I know you said I never could as much I as I loved you."

"Maude, I was wrong. I'm sorry I tried to put you on the spot that day," said Felix. "You deserved better and you deserve this life. This beautiful house and your beautiful family suits you better than even I could have done."

She laughed. "You think you can date my great-great-granddaughter with that attitude? I know you, Felix. You were the best man I knew. I can see you haven't changed much, but I don't know you anymore. I don't know anything about this world you say you came from, with time travelers and computers and websites and eyeball phones, or whatever you called it. I don't know what a podcast is and my editor never puts my stories on the front page. Just his own tripe with spelling mistakes. A story like this could make my career overnight."

"If you tell anyone, you'll change the future in ways no one could possibly know," Lilith pressed. "Simanity doesn't figure out time travel until Emit appears in 2060. Even then, no one's saying much about it because it's so dangerous."

"That's why it's been so important to put the component together to catch the time thief," added Felix. "But if we get discovered here by anyone else, or you tell anyone about this, everything we've been though could be for nothing. Will you help us wait out our friend's arrival tomorrow?"

"I can't let you stay here tonight. My son and his governess will be home soon, and I don't know how to explain you to either of them, but I can help you find a room that'll let to unmarried men and women. I do need to work tonight at the Foxbury Jazz Club - why don't you come with me?"

Felix perked up at the mention of the club. "Foxbury Jazz Club was the place to see and be seen in the Roaring Twenties! I went once or twice, but never let anyone see me as a ghost."

"If you stick with Lilith tonight you shouldn't be recognized. Tonight's event's mostly out-of-towners who've come together for the Simlandia Builders' Club gala, and everyone's so well-known, they won't be looking at either of you. My editor wants me to take photos and sniff out content for the gossip page. You two could help me find a story to make up for the one I'm not allowed to tell."

Lilith, a loner at heart, didn't love the idea, but it would probably be a more interesting experience than sleeping on a park bench waiting for Emit to arrive the next morning. "I don't know any of the dances," she said sheepishly, but outgoing Felix grinned.

"I can lead."

"Berries!" said Maude with a grin. "I love the new jazz, and the Foxbury Club is heavenly!"

As they chatted, the front door opened and Maude stood, with a beaming greeting for Bruno and his governess.

"Mama!" Bruno raced into his mother's arms as the governess slipped quietly upstairs. "Mama we went park!"

"Did you have a nice time?"

"We threw rocks at pond!" Bruno laughed while he recounted his morning, looking up with curiosity when he spotted Lilith and Felix. "Who they, Mama?"

"These are friends of mine," said Maude, careful not to name either one. "They're going to work with Mama tonight to help me get a headline!"

"Mama Headline!" he celebrated, half understanding what it meant, but happy enough to join his mother in laughter.

Felix smiled at Maude with her son. He'd wanted children and a family of his own for so long, but he couldn't begrudge Maude for achieving her happy ever after. Not the way he once did.

"Motherhood suits you, Maude. Just as well as your career."

He felt Lilith's hand wrap around his own as they looked back to the portrait, and he wouldn't take for granted how their lives - or second lives - had thrived in recent years. In different timelines.

Felix knew his own happy ever after was just a proposal away. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

FUN FACT: When I was putting together the newspaper, I looked up real history on July 13, 1920 and picked the weirdest piece of real news I could find. On this day in history, the US Postal Service had to ban people sending children through the mail because enough people were actually doing it.

WCIF: Thank you @deardiaryts4 and @matchalovertrait for letting your sims stand as models for the top right photo on the newspaper! I was so, so excited to play with them, you have no idea! And they look so good in some amazing period cc pieces, like Antoinette's La Maison Blanche coat by @javitrulovesims, Flapper Fabulous by Kiara Zurk (Antoinette's headband and Lilith's '20s hairstyle), Chorus Curls by Retro Pixels (Antoinette's hairstyle), Dmitri fashion set by @happylifesims (Antonio's hat), and happylifesims' Blessan jacket with @pleyita's matte trousers (Antonio's suit and Berend's portrait outfit in different swatches).

Lilith is in happylifesims' 1920s Cloche hat and Lady Mary's Day Dress, while Maude wears the 1920s Guest Dress in the family portrait on the wall. In the scene, she's wearing another happylifesims' Cloche hat and Day Dress 03. If you get the urge to set some scenes in the past or throw a costume party, happylifesims has incredible cc from many eras that I can't recommend enough. I couldn't have done any of this without their work.

I used @beto-ae0's Imperial Dynasty posepack for the portrait of Maude, Berend, and Bruno, and Maude and Bruno are posed in the living room with Guess How Much I Love You (Part 1) by @simmerberlin. The Ruggbyrnes' house can be found on the Sims 4 Gallery by JoaoDiBarro, and the Governess was aged up to elder and can be found on the Gallery by NMinnow.

And finally, I did not create Maude. A whole plate of cookies for after Iftari goes @purplesimmer455, who knew it was Maude when she showed up last episode! She guessed that this might be Mimsy, if not Maude - and fun fact - I used a Gallery-submitted version of Mimsy called 'Mimsy Von Haunt Teen Fix' and aged her up. I thought it looked nothing like OG Mimsy, while also resembling her just enough to be a sister (and the sim is beautiful), so Gallery-user mariuopole put up a good one!

I could not have put this installment together without the combined forces of everyone mentioned in one of my longest WCIF postscripts ever. Thank you so much, everyone!

[caramelarrowswife]

do you think that dark cacao would go dad mode and go after whoever is marrying caramel arrow with the intent to have his sword make contact with their insides in an unpleasant way

KING’S BLESSING

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Caramel Arrow Cookie wishes to introduce her king-father to her soon-to-be wife, Financier Cookie.

Unfortunately for all three of them, Dark Cacao Cookie has not in the slightest forgotten what had happened during the Odyssey.

A/N: i'm alive!! i'm working on three different stories, i swear i'll post more

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Three quiet knocks on Dark Cacao Cookie’s door shook the king from his thoughts, and he stood up to open the door. The visitor was his most loyal Watcher and daughter, Caramel Arrow Cookie.

“Caramel Arrow,” Dark Cacao said. “Do you require my assistance with anything..?”

“No, my lord,” Caramel Arrow said, her usually stern voice tinged with nervousness, “I only wish for you to.. meet someone.”

Dark Cacao’s face cleared up. “Ah, are you finally introducing me to your husband?”

“You- knew I planned to get married?” Caramel Arrow asked carefully, her expression guarded.

“You were twitching like a frightened rabbit all week,” Dark Cacao said kindly. “Did you bring him with you..?”

“It’s not quite.. a ‘him’, your Majesty,” Caramel Arrow replied. “But she’s just as strong as any warrior in our army. She’s very protective and could, err, hypothetically.. take an angry warrior in an attack. You’ve met her before, I believe..”

“Hm.. well, at least you chose a strong lady,” Dark Cacao hummed thoughtfully. “I hadn’t expected anything else from you, if I’m truthful. When do I get to meet her?”

“I brought her with me, actually,” Caramel Arrow said. Her shoulders were squared and her back was straight, a defence mechanism in uncomfortable situations she had inherited from her father.

The archer stepped aside, and another knight stepped beside her. Not a knight.. a paladin. A paladin with a white uniform with golden decorations, with blonde hair as straight as a ruler and brownish eyes that gauged the king’s reaction carefully.

Dark Cacao’s eyes twitched, his smile the fakest thing Caramel Arrow had ever seen (excluding Affogato Cookie).

“A word, please..?”

Dark Cacao promptly turned around, not bothering to check if Caramel Arrow was even following. The smile was gone completely when they were alone in the king’s room, replaced by dark eyes.

“Caramel Chocolate Arrow Cookie. You have five minutes to explain yourself before I take her head,” Dark Cacao said, his voice dangerously calm.

“She only interfered between you and the Consul because it was her duty to! I thought- I was sure you would appreciate the loyalty!” Caramel Arrow burst out, her brown eyes blown wide with determination.

“I would appreciate the loyalty if she was not protecting a traitor and a thief who wanted to take my Souljam,” Dark Cacao snarled.

“She had no voice in the discussion, she was only there to protect, just as Crunchy Chip was!” Caramel Arrow’s voice was louder than she had meant it to be.

“I don’t care! My daughter, my heir, is not marrying that.. that Vanillian scum! End of discussion!” Dark Cacao shouted back.

“‘Vanillian scum’?” Caramel Arrow repeated disbelievingly. “A bit hypocritical, no? If I remember correctly, you were the one caught in Pure Vanilla Cookie’s bedroom, your Majesty!”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Dark Cacao growled, but his ears went a dark red. “Who do you think you are, talking to your king and father like this? Do I need to teach you a lesson in discipline?!”

“Do what you want! I am marrying Financier Cookie, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Caramel Arrow crossed her arms over her chest, imitating her father’s position subconsciously. Their facial expressions were mirrored perfectly.

A flicker of hesitation in the king’s eyes was all Caramel Arrow needed to see to know she won the argument. In turn, the smugness in her eyes sufficed to make Dark Cacao realised he lost.

“She will have to cut off all contact with that insolent man,” Dark Cacao demanded after a moment of silence. “She will follow a Warrior’s training, and you will strictly sleep apart until your wedding night. If you get caught even holding hands, I’ll have her executed. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Caramel Arrow grinned, following her father outside where her girlfriend was waiting.

Dark Cacao was first to reach Financier. He grabbed her by her shoulders, staring into her eyes intensely before muttering; “If I ever, ever hear you break my daughter’s heart, I’ll make sure to send yours to your family.”

Caramel Arrow, who most certainly heard this, shouldered him away quickly to take a perplexed Financier’s hands in her own.

“That’s practically his blessing,” Caramel Arrow whispered excitedly, pulling her girlfriend-turned-fiance away through the halls of the citadel.

“I said no such thing!” Dark Cacao shouted at them. His voice was slightly warmer than before.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part ii (part i)

“Caden, prior to this competition I would have taken one look at you, then dismissed you. And I would have been wrong. I was never expecting you to be this good natured, easy going and simply likeable, and even Araminta conceded that you have ‘far superior manners’ than what you demonstrated during your introduction. Don’t pack your bags just yet - unless it’s to join me in Round Two. Oh, and for future reference, I like a good Malbec.”

“Struan, a couple of times I took your shyness for disinterest or playing games, and that was on me. But you’ve more than proven me wrong. I’ve never tried ginger before, and now I find myself quite partial to it. Sorry - I don’t know who in the writer’s room comes up with this shit. In short, I like you and I want to keep you. You are thoroughly genuine and unpretentious - see you next round.”

“Sage - you are an absolutely atrocious thief, but fortunately you have a better chance of stealing my heart. Uh, much like The Swings of Power, I wouldn’t be surprised if the script for this was actually written by AI - so I’ll skip the rest of it. You’re fun with just the right amount of quirkiness, and you’re also coming with me to the next round. I’ll be looking to see if we can build on what we have.”

“Briar, we have the beginnings of a beautiful friendship, but I’ve yet to see whether it could ever be anything other than that. You reacted favourably to my flirts, but you never once returned them. Still, I get that some of us need a little more preheating than others, and I definitely want more time with you. I look forward to seeing you next round.”

“Cassie, you had a lot of initial bad impressions to overcome, and while others have scored higher, I think that you’ve done well considering. You show more gumption and readiness with the farm work than I was expecting, and I want to see if you have even more surprises in store. While I can’t guarantee that you won’t be rostered yet again on cooking, I can tell you that you’re not heading home just yet. Sorry babe, but it will be a while before we end up anywhere you can get a decent latte or manicure.”

“Giovanna, you seem to have a slow-burn approach to romance that obviously isn’t well suited towards all of this, and while I’ve struggled to get a read on you, I feel as though I have enough to go on to give you what more time I can - for now. I get that not everyone is as… tactile as me, so if you’re feeling it, just give me some indication in whatever way is most comfortable to you during the next round.”

how scores were calculated

And our upper-mid to lower-mid scores are here. While I take a "the points are law" approach to this, not everything can be conveyed through them and so I chose to reflect this in Lilac's remarks.

Those who have a contestant in the bottom six, be forewarned that Lilac wants to light a fire under some of their butts and what she says to those who remain may be quite blunt - but the Watcher loves everyone in this bar.

@mdshh @lindyloosims @panicsimss

@jonquilyst @bakersimmer @ravingsockmonkey