#this is why they’ll never stop the thing where you click on an ad accidentally while scrolling and get taken to the App Store

[brandnewdress]

I swear this stupid app keeps asking me to go ad free every 3 seconds

[becausethathappens]

Will you please write a super angsty fic where Link is freaking out because he thinks the wedding vows he has written aren't good enough and Rhett helps him go over them and make corrections and says they're perfect but also, just says the vows he would say for Link if it was them like it should've been because he's heartbroken and Link can tell but their hands are tied and they don't know what to do so they soldier on without saying a word, but wordlessly communicating lifelong love and misery and everything, maybe comfort as well?

i'm really really sad and i can't shake it off and i really want some good angst and hurt/comfort and i really love you, maura, you're awesome

I don't do unhappy endings, anon. I'm confident you don't either. In fiction or otherwise. So, pardon this if it’s not what you expected.

Please enjoy? This was done a little hastily to share it with you (and I should be writing other things per usual) but I've had a rough week and I want to hopefully make someone smile. (I have way angstier stuff in the drafts and I will be sure to get those out eventually, too.) You’ll feel better soon.  🤞  Thank you! 💞

-———————-

now or forever

4k - Rhett writes Link vows.

If you were my boy, Blue

I’d bathe you in honeys (sp?)

I’d sing write you a love song

I’d shoot you a star**

If you were my boy, Blue

There ain’t nothing in this life I wouldn’t give

From my heart, to my toes, to my fingers, my nose (**)

Whatever it takes just to watch you live 

continue to ‘ ’ grow with you like a vine ‘round a rose 

If you were my boy, Bue

I wouldn’t want you all for myself

There’s no star bright enough to match your lightin’

In sickness, blue, so certainly while we have health

Hand in hand, no longer fightin’

What’s destiny (**)

You and & me

If you were my boy, Blue

I'd marry you

&

Thank God for Rhett. Giving him, delivering him, blessing him with Rhett.

Link is in the middle of a spiral (what he’ll later recognize as a panic attack) when Rhett arrives, the eve of his wedding. Bailing him out of this with pen, paper, and a smile.

Link has always been good at improv.

Though Rhett tended to find the words to start. These were his own vows and Link has been putting time to sit and start them off for weeks. Now that he has to, he’s dumbfounded, despite being deeply in love.

Amidst all the planning and chaos, writing his vows was such a given that Link left it as priority sixty-seven on a list of many more.

Unfortunately, even as busy as they’ve been, that list was shredded with the “who gifted what” tracking sheet (both literally, accidentally, and figuratively) back around the bridal shower and it’s been anarchy ever since.

So he thanks God for Rhett, who’s here, to stop another needless disaster from happening.

That same generous God, however, watches him plagued with thoughts of utter devotion at Rhett’s willingness to drop everything on a weeknight and rush over to help Link find his words.

His lyrics, really, is what Link has in mind. Since they used to write songs together and this felt much the same. He’s been floundering all night and now that Rhett’s here, he knows he’ll at least get what he needs done. Even if it’s not all he wants, right now.

That same God seeks judgment on his every decision or flinch against His will, for any reason, to spite him.

For this reason.

He wants to smush Rhett’s face and kiss him. Deeply. He doesn’t.

Even if there were sometime in the past that he could get away with a platonic smooch, now he can’t. He simply could not prevent that from escalating.

So, he merely tightens his grip on the wrinkled scrap paper in his hand and scrunches his eyes.

“Why can’t it be you up there…” Link bemoans, loudly, in his frustration.

Rhett’s eyes widen, in horror, and Link slams his other hand at his mouth, rolling his eyes. “Not like - I mean - why can’t you go say my lines for me. You’re so much better at this kinda thing.”

“Let me read what you’ve got,” Rhett says.

After some review, Rhett sighs, not unkindly and sits down next to Link. “Let’s just talk through what you’re trying to say because, yeah, this reads like liturgy.”

“Ain’t is supposed to? It’s in a chapel!”

“What do you like about her?” Rhett asks, ignoring his nitpicking. “Christy?” Rhett stares at him, waiting, too upset for Link to chastise but clearly wanting to.

“She’s patient,” Link says, reminded by the similar. Rhett folds over the book to an open page and clicks the pen in his hand, writing that down. “A-And she’s kind. Like considerate, ‘specially with babies and little animals. Sh-She does this thing where she immediately drops to their eye-level to make sure they don’t feel unheard or seen. Probably ‘cause she’s always been so tall…”

Rhett’s still writing.

“Then when I’m sick, she forces me to rest. You know I hate that,” Link says, voice rising a little, at the memory. “But you know I need that. You won’t be the last to make me stop and smell the roses or take a break, once in a while.”

“Her hair, write, her hair - the way it looks in the sunshine. Like warm caramel with flecks of gold. She’s a vision, an angel. Especially when she’s wearing all white, like,” Link says, pausing to point to Rhett’s undershirt and pale grey sweats. “Makes blondes look ethereal-like, always has.”

“Oh, and her voice. Sometimes, the way her accent catches, well, you know she don’t like to sing like us, never has, but when she says certain things, asks a question the right way - it’s music. The way it harmonizes with my answer, reminds me of singing, reminds me of us.”

Rhett keeps writing, quiet, and focused.

After a short time, Link can’t stop and wants to crane over to see what he’s come up with. Rhett hands it over after crossing a final “t” somewhere on the page.

“Those’re good, Link, but I think you need to keep closer to what I wrote, leave out the stuff about me.”

“Stuff about you?” Link asks, having spoken in a stream-of-conscious style, Link forgets most of what he even said

Rhett looks away, shakes his head.

Distracted by the desire to read the rest, Link abandons the lingering questions he has about Rhett’s suggestion and response.

“These are great, man, thanks,” Links says, pushing a soft hand into Rhett’s side.

His eyes scan to the bottom where Rhett’s added a few lines about the journey, the marriage, all the ceremonial aspects of the day for him to close with, but then something more.

Something about him.

Rhett catches him catch it and looks further away. “I know Christy pretty well, too, y’know. Y’all are just alike, in that way. She might need some back-up vows, to have and hold.”

Link reads them.

“You know, just in case.”

Link looks up and tries to laugh.

He doesn’t laugh.

He goes back to reading them.

Rhett shifts uncomfortably, touches the back of his neck, and shuts his eyes.

“Rhett, these ’re…”

“I know, bo, you can forget ‘em,” Rhett excuses, still not meeting Link’s gaze. “You want me to… I can rewrite the others on a different - I can turn the page and write ‘em there so you can just…”

“Hey, hey,” Link interrupts him, mad at Rhett putting down his best friend, and eager to explain his actual thoughts. “Rhett, these are perfect. These are… I’m sad I can’t say anything as nice in return to you.”

Rhett finally looks up to acknowledge that and their gaze heats and lingers.

“Not that I…” Link stutters to clarify. “Y-You’d have to be a - if that’s something that was gonna - you know - if that was gonna work…”

His mind does it’s usual jump to a visual for the worst case scenario depicting the implication he stumbled across. Him out eight grand on the wedding. Not to mention a wife, a family, a future, a faith -

a friend -

Link gulps, pushing that back away, pushing them both forward, in his estimation.

It’s too much to bear to think about for another second. When he glances at Rhett, he can’t get a read on his face what he thinks about it, and that’s scary enough for him to want to abandon the concept altogether.

“Christy’s gonna love them.”

It’s enough, saying his fiancée's name, to ground him again. Enough to make it okay for him to grab Rhett’s palm and squeeze it in thanks, between them.

Rhett’s made his choice to give up on film school.

Link’s made his choice to give up on whatever schoolboy obsession he has with monopolizing all of Rhett’s days and nights. 

He’ll stick to the days or every other weekend, however they can still fit time together, is fine by him. This ceremony, tomorrow, feels as much about his graduation from friend to husband, and all that that entails.

They’re adults.

They both know there’s a lot of sacrifices to be made and this feels like the first time he’s really acknowledging how hard they’re going to be to make. He hopes they’ll still see each other.

He hopes their kids will get along.

He has a lot of hopes.

All of them involve Rhett.

There’s a lot he should write down for when Rhett finds his own bride to wed.

Link notices, suddenly, that Rhett is crying. The same part of him that's nearly broken the headwind of these conflicting emotions turns back to comfort him.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Link soothes, realizing he’s also still holding Rhett’s hand.

“‘M sorry,” Rhett intones, the words bubble up and out of him simultaneously, sounding like water draining in a filled sink. “And the night before your wedding, good Heavens.”

“Hey, I’ve been crying all week,” Link says, waving a hand at the stress that planning a wedding has kept put on him. “Nothing I haven’t seen in the mirror.”

Rhett laughs, rubbing a thumb over his own thigh in a way that brushes upwards against the place Link’s clasping his hand. Link nearly pulls his hand back, thinking Rhett’s trying to get him to sense his want for space, but when he meets his eye it’s clear he’d like nothing less.

“I think I’m just -” Rhett starts to say, trailing off. The light from the lamp on the far coffee table is the only thing on in the room. Link drops his gaze a few inches to try and see more of Rhett’s downturned eyes as he hems and haws. He squeezes their hands together, again, this time clasping it more firmly, still pressing Rhett’s large palm down from above. “I think I’m just a li’l jealous, is all.”

It’s the quietest admission he’s heard from Rhett since he told him he failed their chemistry mid-term in eleventh grade.

Link is also so lost at the innocence of the admission that he can only think of follow-up questions. “Of me?”

Rhett looks at him for a long, long minute and finally, when Link’s gaze remains confused for the whole length of the pause, he shakes his head, no.

Then he waits. 

He waits for Link to realize what he means.

But he’s still waiting when Link, oblivious, moves onward trying to comfort Rhett, instead of understanding him fully.

The tension in the room is palpable as Link talks, but only to Rhett, it seems. Only Rhett pictures air bags being deployed in a car safety video as metal hits cinder block. Only Rhett moves his hand, though it’s all it takes to dislodge them from each other completely.

“I know you’re gonna make an amazing husband some day.” Link is saying.

Rhett’s hand aches where cool air now surrounds it.

“I know your wife is gonna get to hear you say such wonderful things about her.”

Rhett wipes his hand of the misunderstanding on the cotton of his pants.

“I know she’s gonna say the same kind of things about you, when it’s your turn up there.”

Rhett mourns the idea that this would ever be requited.

“I know she’s gonna love you, just as much as I do, so she’ll have plenty to say.”

Rhett looks away, wiping the last of his tears from his eyes. 

 “I’ll make sure she has plenty of ideas where to start.”

Rhett pats Link’s leg, in camaraderie, and nods.

And that’s it. They shoot the shit, they make a plan to meet up at a donut place for the groomsmen’s breakfast to thank them for their help, before the ceremony, and they’ll talk things through if Link’s feeling jittery still. Then Rhett’s gone.

It’s not until the next day at eleven on the dot (everyone has an agenda to follow and every moment is accounted for) that Link understands Rhett’s pain.

His mother straightens his tie and flattens the edges of his suit. “You’ll wanna know I heard Christy looks like an angel in her dress, from the girls upstairs.”

“Those actual angels you been talkin’ to, Sue?” Rhett jokes, where he’s twisting his cummerbund around every so often, bored.

“Very funny, honey,” Sue ribs back. “From the cousins, Beth and Hailee Sue. Remember they’re friends with the hairstylist you got to do the curls for Christy’s hair, today? She was over last night getting Christy ready for bed with how to wash and dry it a special kind of way. They were there, too.”

Link starts to tune her out, since there’s a lot on his mind, but then she says more.

“She says the hairstylist was talking about how jealous she was of Christy, all night, getting to marry you,” Sue relays.

“Oh, mama, please,” Link dismisses. The compliments he’s been getting have felt faker than the toupee on his uncle Bruce. That girl has never even met him. “I’m the only person here people should be jealous of, who would be jealous of Christy,” he says, trailing off, muttering his reasoning as he did. “Marrying a trainwreck like me.”

Link looks up in the mirror where some of his friends continue to mingle in various states of undress. Rhett is already dressed, however, and staring straight at Link like he’s been caught with a hand in a cookie jar.

Link’s about to ask what’s wrong when he remembers his words. Then looks again over the planes of Rhett’s face.

Last night’s words slam back into his mind and Link’s mouth drops open.

The church organ belts out an opening flurry of notes before Canon in D begins playing loudly through the sound system built into the rafters above them. Link looks up to see one of the church staff at the door instructing them to join the bridal party to line-up.

Link’s mom dashes off to where she’s paired with her nephew, Link’s favorite cousin, to be escorted down the aisle.

Rhett sees Link’s face rushing through a wash of emotions from a distance, he nods to the staffer in silent understanding that he’ll handle it, and then they’re alone.

He walks up to Link and takes his hand. He squeezes it.

“Hey, you gotta go. We gotta go. It’s showtime,” Rhett insists.

Link looks around like a bomb went off, since in some ways it did, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Rhett seems to pick up on that. He squeezes Link’s hand again.

“I’ll get over it, Link, it’s okay,” Rhett whispers, on the verge of desperation.

That confirmation is enough to fully shatter Link.

Only for a moment. 

The music continues and Rhett keeps his hand hold.

They are adults. They are in love. They have to marry. 

None of these things can be helped.

“I’m gonna be so jealous of Her, too,” Link whispers back. He squeezes Rhett’s hand one last time, as they part.

They leave.

They walk straight.

They part again.

Until later.

They move houses and cities and states.

They move mountains, inside and out.

They move together.

Much later.

They join again.

They run crooked.

They return.

To one another.

Link has spent years worrying a ring that means too much to too few people.

In the beginning, when he cries himself to sleep at what he thinks has been the mistake of a lifetime, it’s His talisman. It reminds him of the expectations upon this life he’s made.

As the years pass, however, the adherence to the bogeymen of their childhood’s rules wears thin. It starts to strictly represent love and patience.

Sacrifice.

It begins to feel like a burden. A representation of what’s been lost, not what’s been found.

He contemplates taking it off, but believes that to be a betrayal of all that it stands for to the people he stands for. 

Then, one day, (surely mid-spin) he hears Rhett tell a story about wanting to change his ring.

He watches the silver twirl as Rhett explains.

He believes he was rushed into a certain type of marriage and a certain type of life by a certain type of person.

It’s a life that he’s grown to love but the ring represents a union forced by custom and not one that’s grown through devotion. 

His ring reminds him of that too often to be good for him.

Link twists his again at the admission.

So, Rhett’s thinking about replacing the ring.

Link returns home that night in a stupor. He’s sure he said one too many things to Rhett to emphasize how wild it felt to hear him talk about changing rings.

Any memories of that day, their wedding, bring up a rush of emotions that he’s never been good at sorting through.

Today’s admission makes him feel the same spur to make use of idle, betrothed hands he feels when he cleans the fridge.

He wants to clean the slate.

He finds an old DVD copy of their wedding ceremony that he paid to have converted from miniDV some years ago. Now he struggles to find a place to watch that DVD. How quickly time has flown by.

Eventually, he ends up in his son’s room - no one’s home for the remainder of the night but he and Christy - now, he’s sitting on a bean bag, squinting at the game console’s controller trying to get the joysticks to move to “play” on screen.

The ceremony bursts to life and, like it was yesterday, Link’s nerves fizzle awake.

About halfway through the video, Christy finds him like that and sits down next to him in a thwump absorbed mostly by the stuffing of the chair.

They watch themselves smile happily at each other and Christy takes his hand.

“Should I be happy or scared to find you alone watching this on a Saturday night?” she asks, wryly, squeezing his palm.

Link doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught up in Rhett’s bygone script being spoken on screen. Words about Christy and about Link that were not their own, declared loudly in front of the congregation.

“I don’t know,” Link admits, shrugging. He doesn’t. He squeezes her hand back.

“You wanna tell me what’s eating you?”

Link hesitates, but relents. He wants that clean slate, after all. “Rhett’s getting his wedding ring replaced.”

“Replaced?” Christy asks, balking.

“Replaced, yeah,” Link responds, sure he didn’t misspeak.

“With what?” she asks.

“Oh, some new one. Fancy thing, very cool, made of trees or something. Honestly he wears the other one, the slick black one more than his wedding band half the time. He says it feels like the old one? It’s the kind of ring you get in a bauble at a vending machine crank. So, he wants a new one.”

“Jeesh,” Christy says, making a face at the screen. The camera catches Rhett stealing glances at the couple, then at the crowd, beaming at all with unbridled pride.

“Wouldn’t you be mad if I did that?” Link inquires, still baffled at the idea.

“Well, no, but don’t you love your ring? Heirloom and all that,” she says.

Link cringes. “Yeah, yeah. Honestly, I do.”

“So?”

“So, I still kind of want to and I’m not sure what that means.”

They watch the screen together.

“Do you wanna stay married?” she asks, in a small voice.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

There’s a long pause.

“To me?” she asks, her voice even smaller.

“Yes,” he breathes in.

She squeezes his hand, her confidence built back up. She begs him to join her.

“And him?” Christy whispers.

They both look the screen, the lens centered on the two of them, but their gaze is mutually torn to where Rhett stands wiping a tear from his eye at Christy reciting the last of the vows that he wrote her. Wrote him. Wrote them both.

She squeezes his hand again.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

She leans her head on his shoulder.

“You should probably get another ring, then,” she jests. “We shouldn’t have to share everything.”

The slate is clean.

There’s a lot he wants to say to Rhett about it, but just as before, he’s relied on Rhett to give him the right words to say. So, instead of words, he starts wearing Rhett’s ring.

Then, a new one, when he realizes he can match him separate from the other, all told. Have something of Rhett’s, all to himself.

In his unspoken push towards something more, their hands now match along with their steps, as they walk forward.

On the last week in July, they get ice cream at the fifth place that month to mistake them for husbands, but the first one he hears Link crow an affirmative in response.

Rhett waits for him while he triple-tips the cashier (for the guess) and pays for their cones.

“Bad joke,” Rhett says, softly, but firm.

“Who’s kidding?” Link parries back, a smirk dancing it’s way across his lips.

Rhett watches him with a wistful look of disbelief.

“Link, we’re married,” Rhett warns him.

Link shrugs. “I know. I’m just waiting for you to figure that out and minding my ice cream here, all right?”

He’s got a mouthful of vanilla bean and extra cookie crumble, the next second, so his vow ends there.

Later, at home, Rhett startles Jessie awake when he fully realizes Link’s words.

He shakes her awake. He shakes them both awake.

“I’m in love with Link,” he says, like it’s a confession.

She kisses him because so is she. So are most people.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Rhett repeats himself.

So does she.

They stare at each other under the cover of silk and moonlight.

“We’re married,” Rhett whispers, touching his hand to hers. Their rings clink, new and shiny.

“Yeah, and so are we,” she whispers back.

They fall asleep smiling.

The next day, Rhett sneaks up behind Link while he’s working and causes him to spill his cup of coffee. He gets the stink eye for only a minute because it’s the same length of time he can stand Link’s grumpy mug before he has to swoop down and kiss him on the lips.

“You figured it out,” Link says, grinning.

“I did,” Rhett chirps as he kisses Link more.

They take a car to their house. It’s filled with their love and the history of it; before, during, and after.

“What’s this?” Link asks, dazed in their post-sex glow, naked and alive.

He spots an old chord book of theirs from last time they wrote music.

“Oh,” Rhett says, bashful. “I came looking for you here this morning, hoping you slept over again, but, uh,” Rhett stalls, looks away and tries to take the songbook from Link’s hand. Link pulls it far enough he can’t reach. “You were already at the job.”

“And?” Link asks, using his spry, sinewy body as an advantage to slink away from the bed out of Rhett’s grip. He still has the book in hand.

“Those are your vows,” Rhett explains.

Link looks down and squints, confused. These aren’t the vows that Christy read at their wedding. He’s seen that video only a few months back and is sure of it.

“Our vows,” Rhett whispers, explaining further, at Link’s puzzled look.

“It’s a love song,” Link notes, marveling at the gesture. What it means to a young version of himself that once felt like they had surely cut out and mourned the possibility of this - all of this - ever happening. To have that thought coexist with the image of a nude, hulking tree trunk of a husband laid before him smiling up adoringly felt panoptic.

“So are you.”

Link begins to cry.

“Play it for me.”

Rhett wipes his cheek.

“Get my guitar.”

They sing twice more that night, always in harmony (not always in lyric), then spend the rest of their lives together doing much the same.

[olivia200312]

Valentine's Love~ TFP! Optimus x Human! Reader (Lemon) *Request*

Requested by the lovely @Tianna814193.

Plot: Optimus hears of Valentine's Day for the first time and learns more about what it is thanks to the kids. He wants to do something special for Y/N so he took her to a special place and made love to her ;)

There was no plot nor which Optimus version so I had to choose.

Npte: the art goes to the onwer!

Head area: Brain: Processor / Brain Module Head: Helm Face: Face plate Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor Eye brow: Optical Ridge Eyes: Optics Mouth: Intake Lips: Dermas Teeth: Denta/Dentas Tongue: Glossa

Chest area: Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour: Chest plate Back plate Mid-section plating Neck guard Side plating

Arm area: Arms: Arms / Restarlueus Forearms: Bitarlueus Hands: Servos Fingers: Digits

Arm armour: Gantlets Shoulder pads Arm guard

Lower area: Pelvis: Pelvis Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate Thighs: Tibulen Calves: Cadulen Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour: Skirt plates Aft plate / Skid plate Thigh guard Ankle guard

General/Internal components: Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question. Veins: Fual lines Stomach: Tanks Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating. Heart: Spark Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

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

Today was a snowy day in Jasper Nevada. Surprised, right? Usually, it's freaking hot and warm there since it's like... deserted place. Kinda like in Africa, Egypt. But don't get fooled! Weathers can change there too. Have you been ever to Alaska? It's tough to know when it's in fact night. Why? The occurrence takes place each winter because of the tilt of the Earth's axis. "This tilt makes it so that none of the Sun's disc is visible above the horizon," according to Chinchar. But that doesn't mean the town will be completely dark. It's also not always winter there like how you saw in the movies. 

So, it's February 13th... one day away from the official Vantine's Day. It's a day where you give your loved ones presents, to show love to them. You can give presents to your family and friends. It can be candy, cards, plushies, etc. 

Y/N was 18 and she was at her house. She sadly doesn't have time to hang out at the base. She got a lot of work to complete so she texted Miko, saying that she doesn't have time to hang out today.

At the base~

"Oh come on!" Miko groaned while throwing her hands up in the air, making her pink phone go flying and land on the couch.

Jack looked at her while Raf was listening while working on his laptop. Some bots were listening as well while others like Ratchet were busy. "What's wrong, Miko?"

"Y/N doesn't have time to come hang out in the base! Tomorrow is Valentine's Day!"

That caught every bot's attention, especially Optimus'. Once they all looked at the kids and Miko quickly noticed that every bot is staring. "What?"

"What's this 'Valentine's Day', Miko?" Optimus asked while walking over to the kids.

Jack looks surprised. "You bots don't know what Valentine's Day is?"

"On Cybertron, we don't celebrate holidays," Arcee said while her arms were crossed.

"Well, Valentine's Day is a day where you give gifts to your loved ones. Like to your family, friends, especially to your lover. It's also when someone confesses their love to their crush," Raf explained.

"And what gifts can you get?" Bulkhead asked.

"Oh, different things! You can get like candy, plushies, cards, prepare romantic dates, and much other stuff!" Miko answered with a big smile.

Optimus couldn't help but be interested. He's in love with Y/N ever since he met her. It's just... her beauty and especially her kind personality caught his attention. He offered to be her guardian and his spark beat happily when she said yes. She accepted the offer. But oh boy, he didn't know that Y/N is in love too with the handsome, kind leader. 

But of them didn't know that they'll be extremely sexually active like... they're both in the hard mood to do 'it'. It's normal when you are a couple but it's very important to be careful. Both of them won't admit to anyone but they both had wet dreams about each other more than once. Yeah... if they both showed signs or accidentally told it out loud, then they'll be so embarrassed (my best friend, who's a guy, admitted once to me in the school bus that he had a wet dream about a girl once).

"If you don't mind, will you explain more?" Optimus asked.

The kids nodded and they explained more. They even told me how it started. Optimus was thinking this whole time about how to confess his love to Y/N. He has no idea that he'll be sexually active right on Valentine's Day. His spike will be hard, begging to go inside of Y/N. Crap, he's getting naughty thoughts again. That's when Optimus has a plan...

The next day~

When Y/N woke up, she got dressed and brushed her teeth. She was surprised when Bumblebee picked her up instead of Optimus. The leader told everyone his plan to confess his love to Y/N, except for the naughty thoughts. He's having a lot of trouble keeping his voice under control. He's sexually active, needing to have sex. His spike is sure very hard behind his codpiece. Luckily, no one suspected a thing.

When Y/N arrived at the base, Ratchet told that Optimus was at the beach in the wooden cabin. Wait, how can he be inside since the wooden cabin is.. small? Welp. Only one thing to find out. Y/N went through the groundbridge when it was activated. When Y/N arrived at the beach, it was very breathtaking:

Y/N pinched herself to see if she wasn't dreaming. It was all real. Y/N then felt... hot. She couldn't help but let out a small moan. She quickly controlled herself and saw the wooden cabin. Once she opened it and went inside, she saw a big white bed, covered in beautiful rose petals. Even some candles were on to make it even more romantic, curtains closed. 

Y/N smiled brightly. Optimus loves her. She knew it now. She then heard metallic footsteps and she turned around to see the love of her life, except he's small! Y/N's mouth was open in shock while her eyes went wide.

Optimus chuckled and gently closed her mouth with his digit, but never left her face. He gently cupped her face with his soft, gentle servos and kissed her with passion. Y/N let out a surprised moan but she kissed him back. She slung her arms around his neck and kissed him harder. The Prime moved his servos to her waist and pulled her closer. Y/N couldn't help but let out a loud moan, especially since her private part was overheating and throbbing.

She pulled away embarrassed. "I-I'm sorry, Optimus. I... I just have a problem."

Optimus showed a gentle, kind, loving smile. "I know, sweetspark. I've read your body language." He then felt a little embarrassed. "I have the same problem with my spike."

Y/N felt confused at first until it clicked fast. His penis was hard. Spike is... you know. So, both of them have the same problem. But Optimus doesn't want to force his beloved since he's not that kind of a bot. As Orion Pax, he was shy, kind, quiet, overworking, helpful, respectful, and gentle. But now as Optimus Prime, he's stern, calm, strong, smart... So, he has kinda two sides. But there's still Orion Pax in him if you pay close attention to him. Ratchet told the story of who Optimus was before he became a Prime. The kids found it interesting, especially Y/N.

Y/N looked up to meet his optics. "D-Do you mind if we help each other. Clearly, our bodies want... you know."

Optimus doesn't respond, instead, he slammed his dermas on her lips. He backed her gently until she fell on top of the white bedsheets. At least the rose petals were soft. He climbed on top of her and looked into her eyes, asking for permission. Y/N nodded and started to touch his chassis, causing Optimus to purr. 

Some time passed by and Y/N was fully nude underneath the leader. She already has love bites around her neck. Optimus' optics was full with lust as his one digit entered her heated core. That caused Y/N to gasp and moan. "A-Ah! That feels so good! Please more!~"

Optimus granted her wish and added another digit inside of her. He moved inside of her, feeling her walls tighten around his digits. He's smirking inside. When he felt her orgasm, he pulled his digits away, causing Y/N to whine.

Y/N shot her eyes open when she heard a clank on the wooden floor. She saw his private member. His spike. "It's so big!~" That caused Optimus to look flustered and watched her as she used her hand to grab his spike and gently started to stroke it. Optimus moaned as his member twitched. Y/N stroked faster until Optimus shot his transfluid. It landed on her chest and stomach area. Y/N sill looked seductively and giggled. 

Optimus was surprised by the next act.Y/N lifted her legs up, and opened her heated core with her fingers, inviting Optimus to go in. Optimus then prepares and lined his spike right at her pussy.

"Please put in!~" 

Optimus smirked and went inside of her. He immediately grunted as the warmth and tightness greeted his spike. Y/N immediately moaned and instead of pain, she felt pleasure. Pure pleasure. She panted and moaned louder. "A-Ah, so good. Give all of you, Optimus. F-Fuck me so hard until I can't walk!~"

Optimus smirked and rammed into her. That caused Y/N to scream, moan and talk dirty. Like, really dirty talk. She couldn't help it! Her legs and arms are wrapped around him. "O-Oh, yeah! Yeah! H-Harder! I'm close!"

"As you wish, my dear.~" Optimus smirked and rammed even harder. 

Y/N felt her G-Spot being hit many times that she saw stars. She was just so in love, lost in pure pleasure... That's when she felt her orgasm. She screamed Optimus' name in pure bliss as he shot his transfluid inside of her. It was warm and sticky. Optimus stayed inside of her for almost a minute before pulling out. Some of his transfluid dripped down into the sheets. Both him and Y/N felt much better.

"T-That was amazing, Optimus."

Optimus smiled lovely as he laid down next to her and pulled her closer. He held her protectively. "It was, sweetspark."

Happy Valentine's Day!

[loganscanons]

uf short fics

Context: Some short fics featuring UF friendship duos. The first is Precious and Helena, the second is Paige and Orthanach, and the third is Tulio and Zelda.

Precious walked into the morgue with her head down, focused on the paperwork Fil had just handed her. When she looked up, opening her mouth to ask Helena a question, she stopped dead in her tracks, her expression shifting from neutral blankness to surprise, her eyebrows raising.

“Helena, what are you doing?” Precious asked. There was a sharp edge to her bewildered tone, like she was too caught off guard to be sure if she should be disapproving.

Helena sat on the autopsy table, her legs folded like a pretzel, bent forward as she scrolled on her phone. At Precious’s question, her shoulders tensed, and she looked up, though she wasn’t sure why she seemed to be in trouble.

“It’s my break!” she said defensively.

“But why are you on the autopsy table?” Precious’s black heeled boots clicked against the floor as she neared.

Helena’s shoulders relaxed, realizing that the reason for Precious’s outburst was about an arbitrary matter. She looked down at the metal slab, and then back to Precious. Not much thought had gone into sitting on the autopsy slab; it was a surface on which she could sit, so she did.

“Oh, uh, cause it was the closest thing when I decided to sit down,” Helena said.

“The autopsy table is not a chair; it’s for decedents. Get off,” Precious said, and she swatted Helena’s knee with the thin stack of papers in her hand. 

“I cleaned it first!” Helena defended, though that was not what Precious was concerned about.

“So?” Precious asked. She figured Helena had cleaned it. She wasn’t sloppy with her work. “It’s for dead bodies, not for you to use as a chair during your break, Hel.”

“I’m a little bit dead,” Helena chirped as she unfolded her legs and hopped off the table.

“Aren’t we all?” Precious said dryly. “When you’re all the way dead, you can sit on the autopsy table all you want.”

---

The Oak & Swan was abuzz with cheerful chatter and laughter, the air saturated with a mood of giddy celebration. The proposal that Rhonda had put so much thought into had been a success, making Teale cry her tearless cry from happiness. When they left the private room, Teale was greeted with another surprise. The company of her friends ready to celebrate.

Sitting alone at the bar, Paige observed the festivities with a small smile. As she watched Divina trying to teach Anastacia the steps of a modern dance, a large figure leaned forward next to her, his arms resting on the bar. She turned her attention to the man, and he smiled, his crooked teeth showing and his golden eyes shining. 

“Hey, why’re you all by yer lonesome, Paigey?” Orthanach asked, nudging her with his elbow. 

“I’m fine,” she said. “I like watching.” 

Orthanach gazed around the room, slowly taking in all the smiling faces, then looked at the ceiling, where music played through speakers. Then, he turned his attention back to Paige. 

He folded his arms on the bar and rested his chin on them as he looked up at Paige. “You should come dance with me.”

“Oh—I-I don’t really dance,” she said.  

Nach sat up, his eyebrows raised in disbelief, but his eyes still twinkled. “Yer tellin’ me ya grew up goin’ to Bates and Rachkov events and ya never learned to dance?”

“I don’t like dancing,” she said, shrugging. 

“Don’t like dancin’? Dancin’ is a great way to have a good time!”

“I don’t like people looking at me dance.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding understandingly. He looked around the pub again. He wanted to convince Paige to let loose and have a little fun. She was so uptight and serious.

He turned his attention back to her, “How ‘bout ya dance with me now? And if anyone looks I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ at me bein’ ridiculous and not at you. And if ya hate it, I promise I’ll never ask again. Unless I’m very drunk, and I forget I made that promise, but jus’ flick my forehead or somethin’ if that happens.”

She hesitated. He was fae; his promises had weight to them. If she agreed to dance this once and didn’t like it, he would keep true to his word.

With a gentle smile, he said softly, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, Paige. I won’ hold it against ya.” 

He stood and took a step back, then held out his hand to her, his palm up. “Whaddya say?”

For a few seconds, she said nothing, staring at his outstretched hand. Then, she smiled and placed her hand in his. A grin spread across his freckled face, and moments later, they were whirling around the pub. A laugh escaped her lips as he loudly sang along with the song playing through the speakers, prompting Grant to join in, and tried not to collide with any tables.

---

Zelda craned her neck as she took in the enormous factory and it’s high ceilings. She and Tulio had been wandering the abandoned building for at least ten minutes, passing slowly among the old machines coated with dust and rust. Cobwebs hung in the gaps of the machines. Patches of the factory were illuminated by moonlight coming through the broken windows. The atmosphere certainly wasn’t welcoming, but it didn’t provide any indication of ghosts.

“I thought you said this place was super haunted,” Zelda said. She squinted at movement in a pool of moonlight. It was just clouds passing over the moon.

“I didn’t say ‘haunted,’” Tulio said. “I don’t really like that word. It has such a negative connotation, and most ghosts don’t mean to haunt people; they just haven’t been able to pass on.”

With quick strokes of her forefinger, Zelda drew her initials in the dust covering one of the machines. She wiped the dust on her finger off on her pants and asked, “What would you say instead?” 

“Inhabited?” Tulio suggested. He pointed the large camera balanced on his shoulder toward a sign of movement. It was Zelda’s shadow as she wandered away from him. 

“Okay, I thought you said this place was super inhabited,” Zelda said. “That doesn’t sound as cool.”

She brought the camera that hung around her neck up to her eye and snapped a picture of the shattered glass, yellowed from age, that let in the moonbeams.

“This isn’t about being cool, Zee,” Tulio said with a small frown. “We’re here to help spirits pass on to the other side. And it does have a lot of spirits. Old factory not up to code, unhappy workers, accidental deaths. It’s bound to lead to some angry spirits.” 

She was right that the equipment for finding ghosts was unusually quiet. Tulio chewed the inside of his cheek, then said, “They might not like the camera. Some spirits don’t like being filmed.” He cleared his throat and announced to the seemingly empty factory, “To anyone who resides within this factory, I’ve turned the camera off. We respect your privacy. See? The light isn’t on anymore.”

Silence.

Tulio glanced and Zelda, who was still holding her camera up as she looked around with wide eyes. He whispered, “Zelda, put your camera down.”

“Oh, sorry!” she said. 

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, a translucent apparition of a bloodied, torn-up man appeared just feet away from them. 

Tulio, startled, jumped back and yelled, “AHH!” at the same time that Zelda gasped.

He clutched his hand over his heart and took a deep breath, “Oh, you startled me.” He shook off his fear and addressed the spirit, “Hello, sir. My name is Tulio, this is Zelda. If it’s not too much trouble, we want to talk to you.”

“About what?” the ghost asked in a raspy, thin voice.

“Your life, any concerns or last wishes you had, things like that,” he said with a comforting smile.

“And how you died!” Zelda interjected. Tulio glanced at her, wide-eyed, and she added, “If you’re comfortable with that.”

The ghost made an unpleasant sound that was somewhere between a growl and a moan. “Oh, I’ll tell you how I died. We said things like this would happen,” he gestured to his missing arm and torn up chest. “But did anyone listen? Nooo.”

Zelda and Tulio exchanged a look, Tulio’s eyebrows knit together, and Zelda with a delighted smile.

“Maybe we should find a place to sit,” Tulio suggested.

[jaynavajasso]

A list of things about Boris Habit:

(SPOILERS AHEAD!)

(Edited to include some corrections from you guys! Thank you for helping me out!)

▪ He (at least partially) went to college for dentistry - enough to successfully perform multiple operations. It’s safe to assume he’s very intelligent.

• In his tweets, he complains about his fingers being “too sharp”, suggesting that his spelling atrocities are mostly because he’s having trouble typing - not that he can’t spell. Further examples are the diary and the PSA’s; in the diary pages (writing) his spelling is nearly perfect, and in the PSAs (typing) you get way more misspellings. 

• On that note: He can speak English almost perfectly! Typing errors aside, in any of the endings, he sobers up real quick - and when he gets serious, the misspellings just stop. I’ve seen a lot of people writing his dialogue like he types, but according to the game, he can speak just fine.

• If anything, the misspellings pop up in his dialogue when he’s psychotic - perhaps he’s baby talking you? No proof on that one, just speculation.

Edit: I’ve been informed that “manic” is the more appropriate term for how he acted in the boss fight. Sorry for the confusion!

• His cheerfulness isn’t completely an act - the game suggests that he was a really cheerful kid up until he snapped (as an indirect result of his father’s abuse, no less), and in the good ending (after you agree to be his friend) he gets some of that same peppiness back. Even Kamal agrees he’s just a big softy... under the poorly managed trauma, at least.

• HE UNDERSTANDS, AT THE END, THAT WHAT HE’S DONE IS WRONG. He’s not all flowers and sunshine about it, either - in the bad ending he realizes he’s become the villain, and not only accepts his death but smiles at you as if to encourage your actions. In the neutral ending he actively says that hurting you would be “wrong of [him]”, and in the good ending, if you agree to be his friend, he somewhat disbelievingly says “a real friend… after everything i’ve done to you…”

• Related to the last one: His amazement at your friendship, combined with the bullying documented in the diary, suggests that he’s never had many friends. In the last PSA, you see a picture of Kamal labeled “friend :-)”, suggesting they either used to be close or that Habit got attached. (I don’t think Kamal really hates him, but with how mad he got at him for so long, I’m not sure how close they actually were).

• In the good ending, it’s suggested that Boris left the Habitat and became a florist! At the very end of the credits, no less - you see Habit surrounded by plants, grinning ear to ear, holding a lil flower pot in his hands. If not a florist, then he’s at least getting to work with plants! (Good on him!!)

• On that note: in the bad ending, you see the same shot at the end of the credits, but with Boris just missing. You know, because you killed him. The game pretty heavily goes against that ending and repeatedly tells you that there’s another way.

• His favorite color is orange, according to his tweets! That’s not a ground breaker, it’s just cute. 

• He’s canonically 37, but his knowledge of the internet seems to be... mixed. On one hand, he knows enough to program his own website - and on the other, in the good ending he asks you to email him. (I don’t know a soul who uses email anymore.) BUT he does tweet! So maybe at the time of the ending he just doesn’t have a phone. We have no way to know.

Edit: Several people have informed me that the game takes place in the 90′s, which would explain why he uses email! Considering his tweets are (apparently?) canon and take place before Flower Kid, the timeline may be more or less ambiguous - but as far as I know it’s canonically in the 90′s.

• The Habitat is canonically in the USA, according to his twitter. Considering the developers said he has a Russian accent, perhaps his parents are immigrants. Again - no way to know for sure.

• In the tutorial, the pre-ending, and Boris’ photograph (if you take one), he appears as nothing but a red-eyed shadow that quite frankly looks demonic. In the game, the camera is used to show people's true selves (most dominantly with Trencil, where taking his photo reveals him as a vampire). Considering vampires exist in this universe, we can take Boris’ photo and assume he’s… at least not fully human. Exactly what he is, however, we don’t know.

• Boris created the Carlas, and it’s suggested that he cares for them. Each of them refer to him as “dad” or “father”, expressing concern for his mental wellbeing and even recognizing his diary pages. (In fact, you get one of the diary pages from a Carla, who says Boris stored it inside her!) The fortune telling Carla even recognizes the Tooth Lily and understands how rare it is - knowledge that, according to Habit, only he knows.

• Randy says that Habit smells like “loose change”, suggesting that the metallic smell of laughing gas clings to him. Apparently he and Habit butt heads - Habit told him he couldn’t smell like pickles, and in his tweets he calls Randy “smelly”. In the same tweet he also admits to crying because Randy told him he smelled like loose change, so maybe he’s just holding a grudge.

• Habit doesn’t seem to be very tactful. He manages to tick off a few of the Habiticians, most prominently Kamal, who Habit says has “sepia toned teeth”. If you ask the Habiticians in question, they’ll suggest that he’s plain rude - but considering his character, it’s more likely that he’s just unintentionally blunt.

• Habit is trusting, even before the good ending. This is mostly displayed by his tweets. He clicks an ad for free lasagna and gets a computer virus, buys a fake set of X-Ray glasses from Gerry (and wears them all day despite not being able to see!), someone stole quiches (presumably from his office) without him noticing, and in another tweet he said he ate an apple pie that tasted like rat poison! He expresses concern about the poison, but the way he wrote it suggests he ate the whole pie! He trusts people nearly to the point of naivety, despite the broken philosophy in his boss battle.

• It’s very heavily suggested that Habit is hurting for attention and interaction. In the good ending, despite knowing he’s just hurt you, he’s desperate enough to ask to be your friend (and not only surprised, but ecstatic if you say yes). In the same ending, kissing him is enough to completely snap him out of his breakdown and sober him up - right after flustering him immensely, of course. In one of his tweets, too, he accidentally admits that sometimes he wants kisses. Considering his childhood, it’s more than likely he’s really touch starved. 

• It’s really easy to make him cry. Several of the Habiticians mention him crying, and Habit even mentions crying in some of his tweets. On the other hand, he gets excited really easy, too. Basically, it seems he’s prone to feeling any emotion really strongly. 

• Habit canonically loves to draw and is good at it. In-game, he illustrates himself all over the walls of the Habitat. Usually they’re peppy, fun, somewhat childish drawings, but once you get to his office and the areas near it, you start to see some... really disturbing illustrations.

• Finally, my favorite: his hair. Aside from the obvious fact that it’s really long, in one of his tweets he’s distressed because he’s “drowning in it”. There’s no conclusions to be drawn here except that his hair’s awesome.

[acesophiewalten]

Feral Children Steal A Car And Need A Hug

Hello, everyone! So, this takes place in the wonderful @nightxpining‘s Feral Omens AU, directly after the events of their mini-fic, Come To Me, which I’ll let you read on your own. I would recommend it heavily, as the writing isn’t just good, so is the art. 

Word Count: 2,684 

CW for some angst near the end, hotwiring cars, and references to killing/hurting people and demons.

I hope you like it!

“We have to rescue a fallen angel,” said Adam Young. 

Adam took a small sip of his Mint Tea. It was good, he thought, not as hot as last time. His dog, Dog, laid pleasantly by his feet, gnawing on a bone Adam had willed for him. The Tea Room at the Ritz Hotel was unusually empty today, and he found relief in this. Adam liked loud noises in principle, but in practice he found them entirely overwhelming.

Adam Young was eleven years old. He had thick, dark blond hair, and his eyes were the color of dirty sink-water. He had dark brown freckles all over his face. He often looked down at Dog to give him a pat on the head or a small order not to nip at the staff passing by. He was also the antichrist. 

“We have to do what?” asked Pippin Galadriel Moonchild. “Of all the things to stop the end of the world, we have to do that? We can’t, say, just kill Satan, so he can’t make you do anything? Or go to a church service?” 

Pippin Galadriel Moonchild had a stubborn brown face, stubborn brown eyes, and stubborn brown hair pulled up into a stubborn high ponytail. She was eleven, and the only girl sitting at the table. She wore bright red rainboots, striped leggings, and a yellow shirt. Hanging off her chair was a red slicker that she wore always, especially when it wasn’t raining out. She had a half-eaten sandwich on her plate. Nobody called her Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, unless it was her mother, and Pippin Galadriel Moonchild hadn’t cleaned her room before going outside. Pip, Pepper, and Pep were her favorite nicknames, though Mooney had crossed some mouthes. 

“No, Pepper, we can’t just kill Satan,” said Wensleydale. “Why is it that we have to keep reminding you that you can’t just kill people?” 

“Satan isn’t a person,” said Brian. “Besides, if Pepper wants to kill a demon, let her. She can fend one off.” 

Pepper smiled. 

Brian and Wedsleydale were very similar in size and shape. Wensleydale had blond hair, light blue eyes, and comically large glasses. His face was blotchy and he was filled with a stuck-up smartness that left him inches from being kicked out of the gang. Brian’s hair was black and dead-straight, his eyes were light brown, and his wardrobe seemed to only include blacks, greys, and the occasional red or green. He, as many young boys did, had pure luck going for him, and was sure he’d make his way to an accidental fortune.

Adam then said, “We can’t just go to church and beg. God wouldn't take us seriously if we did that.” 

“Can’t you make Her take us seriously? With your powers and things?” 

Adam closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. Maybe he should’ve kept it to himself and brought in his parents, even if they wouldn’t believe him, or simply gone down to Hell with Dog. 

“You think I haven’t tried? If I could reverse it, I would’ve.” 

Adam could say one good thing about being the antichrist, and that was that the job came with powers. He’d been born with the ability to simply will things into existence, to make things happen with no drawbacks or other explanations. He could get his friends anywhere by only thinking about it, get good grades by saying that he did, and cover his tracks extremely well. Adam Young had never told a lie in his life, simply because his powers didn’t allow him to. He called it willing, simply because there was no better word to call it. 

He was still limited, of course. Nothing otherworldly could really happen, for a while. He couldn’t raise Atlantis out of the sea or make aliens land on Earth, but the weather where he lived remained perfect, and his school life was good, and he was generally seen as a sweet, if not secretive young boy. 

When Adam turned nine, Dog came running out of Hell and into the area behind the bushes of the Young’s garden. He was still a Hellhound, then, and had been listening to Adam describing the perfect dog. Adam’s idea of a perfect dog was, of course, the exact opposite of what Dog had once been. Adam wanted a small dog, a brilliantly intelligent, independent dog, with one ear turned inside out. A proper mongrel, Adam had said. 

Dog conformed. A smaller version of him, one more intelligent, more loving, and more brilliant ran out of the bushes and into Adam’s willing arms. 

With Dog came more and more power. Adam could now, indeed, lift Atlantis out of the sea, and make aliens land on Earth, and transport all of his friends to the Ritz Tearoom without any of their parents noticing. One night, he, Pepper, Wedsleydale, Brian, and Dog genuinely flew around a grassy plain near Tadfield, and had one of the best nights in his life. 

But with all of this power, of course, came a time limit. He had done research about his parentage all his life, and it slowly started to dawn on him that as long as he used his powers, he was set to destroy the world before his thirteenth birthday. Then, he would die, probably gruesomely, and God would see to it that his friends would be killed. 

Adam was fully aware of what would happen if he failed getting the fallen angel back. All he ever wanted was to have fun, have no eyes on him, be popular and smart but not especially striking. He didn’t want the world to end, ideally, it would be around for ages and ages and ages before humans destroyed the world themselves.

Pepper nodded, solemnly, “So, what does this ‘fallen angel’ look like?” 

Adam began, “He’s short. White hair. Blue eyes. Should have black wings. This might be subjective, of course, since he could look completely different as a demon. Heaven’s trying to do an analysis, but Hell isn’t going to cooperate that easily.” 

“Great,” said Wedsleydale. “Does he have a name?” “Aziraphale,” said Adam. “We’ll apparently know him by his wings. They’ll be pitch-black.” 

“Who told you all of this?” asked Brian. 

“Metatron. He’s the voice of God. Speaks for Her and things. He visited me in a dream, once I summoned him.” 

“Why did God make a man speak for Her?” asked Pepper.

Nobody had an answer to that.

“What does a fallen angel have to do with the apocalypse?” asked Wensleydale. 

“Look, I don’t know. Metatron just said that I needed to save a fallen angel. That’s it. Even with me willing him to, he wouldn’t give me something else.” 

“Bummer,” said Brian. 

“So,” said Pepper, “what do we need? I think I can get my mum to lend me her crossbow.” 

Adam smiled. If there was one thing he could count on in any situation, it was Pepper offering to help with whatever weapon came to her mind first, and the rest of the group quickly jumping to add on their own thoughts. Adam was the leader of the gang, sure, but all of them had a significant foothold, and in a way it was not one gang but four one-person gangs that had decided to team up.

“I have a slingshot,” said Wedsleydale, “Maybe I can go with my mum to church this evening and get us some knives” 

Brian said, “I’ll bring dumb luck. And a couple bottles of holy water.”

“But we need something to go down there with,” said Adam. “A sturdy car. A good-looking one, too, something that’ll make us look serious. My dad’s car can barely drive in the rain.” 

“Not mine, or Wedsleydale’s,” said Pepper, “our cars are so broken we can’t make it a mile.”

Everyone looked to Brian, and Brian shrugged. “I honestly don’t think we have a car.”

“You know,” said Wedsleydale, tentatively, “there’s a black Bentley parked right across from here. Sturdy thing. Looks to be from the 1920s, 1930s, maybe. We could steal it and drive it into Hell.” 

“Isn’t that car Creepy Ritz Guy’s?” 

Creepy Ritz Guy was the name given to the man that would show up at the Ritz Tearoom while Adam, Pepper, Wedsleydale, and Brian were either entering or leaving. He was tall, thin, with red hair and a sour, downturned mouth. He wore dark sunglasses and never opened his mouth when he spoke. Originally they simply called him The Ritz Guy, but after an incident where Adam swore that his eyes were bright yellow, Creepy was added on. 

Adam, Pepper, Wedsleydale, and Brian had many theories about Creepy Ritz Guy. Pepper had suggested that he was a secret agent, Brian had posited that he was a writer looking for material without anyone noticing who he was, and Adam secretly thought he was a demon. He was not truly creepy, to them or to anyone, but he had that slithering, sly smile, the movement of someone with many things to hide. So Creepy Ritz Guy he was. 

Pepper sighed, “So? Adam can start it, with his will. We’ll be out in seconds.” 

Adam nodded. “She’s right. He won’t even have to know, and besides, nobody’ll suspect us. We’re children, after all.” 

“I’m convinced,” Brian said. 

“So,” said Adam, “how about this. We’ll steal the car after we leave here. I can start it up with my will, and we’ll park it a block away from my house. We’ll pack up tonight, meet at the Bentley, and then we’ll drive off. How does that sound?” 

“Fantastic!” said Pepper. 

“Wonderful!” said Wedsleydale. 

“Wicked!” said Brian. 

Adam smiled, and lifted Dog up onto his lap. “What about you, Dog? Do you want to come?” 

Dog barked, and Adam smiled wider. 

They left The Ritz Tearoom all together, walking as if they were an impenetrable wall. Just like they hoped, and knew, the Bentley was parked on the opposite side of the street, looking clean and well-made up. All of them wondered how Creepy Ritz Guy could keep such a wonderful-looking car. 

They rushed to the other side of the street, and Adam stood in front of the passenger side doors. 

Adam, with Dog standing right next to him, said, “Open.” 

The door clicked, and Pepper ran in. 

Adam ran around the other side, murmured, “Open!” and the door clicked again. Adam crawled in, Dog followed, and Adam soon opened the door for Brian and Wedsleydale to sit in the backseat. 

Adam finally understood the obsession with cars many other boys had. This car was unlike anything he’d seen before, with full-leather seats, one long backseat, and a drop-down cabinet filled with sunglasses. There was a bottom cabinet that Pepper popped open, and found cassette tape upon cassette tape of Queen. It was a good car, finely built and nicely clean. 

Adam placed his hands on the wheel, and said, “Turn on!” 

The entire world seemed to wait in anticipation. Dog, now comfortable on Adam’s lap, tilted his head. 

The car did not start. In fact, it stagnated. 

Adam took a breath in. “Turn on!” he said, a little louder. 

The car made a sputtering noise. For a minute, the doors looked, then unlocked again. Adam looked around. 

“The will isn’t working.”

“What do you mean it’s not working?” Asked Pepper.

“I mean, it’s not turning on. This car, it must be,” Adam paused. “A demon or an angel owns this car. That’s the only explanation. Interfereing with it would mean interfereing indirectly with god, which...”

“So Creepy Ritz Guy isnt human then? What should we call him?” Asked Brian.

There was a silence.

Wensleydale piped, “I think I know how to start this thing up.”

After some questioning, Wensleydale pulled a flatheads screwdriver out of his pocket and began to explain, “We can break the locks on the ignition by hammering this against the keyhole and turning it over. We should then be able to remove the steering column and tamper with the wires, which will allow the car to start.” 

Wedsleydale proceeded to do this with disturbing accuracy. Wedsleydale was a boy of knowledge, of the world, someone who had absorbed everything and kept it in the vast library of his mind. Nobody would expect him to, after all, he looked nothing more than a slightly-awkward person who would grow out of it soon enough, but people with library minds will never really develop that way. Inside their heads are the ways of the world, and what it needed, and in this case the world needed a hotwired Bentley. 

After a couple tries, careful stripping of the wires, and a few sparks, the car revved. The engine started whirring, and all of them found themselves happily relived. 

“Wensleydale, would you like to drive?” asked Adam. 

Wedsleydale shook his head. “No. In fact, I’d like to sit in the backseat, with a seatbelt on.” 

Adam nodded. Dog got up off Adam’s lap, and sat next to Wedsleydale. Dog knew what was good for him, no matter how much he adored Adam. 

Adam, with his feet barely touching the pedals, pressed on the gas. The car sped down, swerved, ran past two stop signs, and nearly crushed a bird under its wheel before Adam thought to will himself the knowledge of driving cars. No pedestrians or many cars either, just in case. 

Adam didn’t like driving, even if he liked the car. Pepper seemed to like it, if you could call leaning your head against the window and looking out dreamily liking something, while Wedsleydale, Brian, and Dog sat in the back hoping Adam’s will didn’t fail him. Adam felt as if there was too much pressure on him, like the car was trying to swerve and fight against him. 

Was this why he didn’t want to end the world, he thought to himself, not because he was good, because he couldn’t stand the pressure? Because he would be on edge if a car he’d never driven before worked differently? He couldn’t think of it. 

The car ride home was long, and awfully quiet. Halfway through the drive Pepper put in a cassette of Best of Queen, which really did nothing. They were simply quiet while drums bursted in their ears and a man sang about love. 

Adam parked the car in the driveway of The Jasmine Cottage. The sun was setting, and the sky gleamed in yellow, orange, and red, and the gang dispersed. 

Pepper came home to her house to find her grandmother had cooked her favorite dinner, macaroni with extra cheese and a glass of sweet pomegranate tea, and ate heartily while petting her cat and thinking vaguely of midnight. She had to start packing up soon, she figured. 

Wedsleydale’s parents weren’t home yet. He sat himself on the couch with a bag of crisps for about five minutes, then got up and started packing. He figured that being early couldn’t be a crime, not in a situation like this. 

Brian read a comic magazine while his parents watched television in the other room. He was used to eating late, and figured that today was like no other. After all, despite the stealing of the car, mentions of the chaotic acts and having tea at The Ritz was normal. 

Adam walked into his house holding Dog. He set Dog down, poured him some dog food, and walked into his room. He packed his backpack quickly, trying to stuff as much as he could. He felt like the universe was counting on him, which it was, and it would be for a very long time. He wanted to be rid of the powers, suddenly, all of the antichrist business, the angel could stay in Hell! 

No, he told himself, no. You have to keep going, you have to save this angel, or else the world will end. Or else everyone will die, and you will die too. 

Adam Young didn’t eat dinner that night. His backpack, filled to the brim with knives, apples, water bottles, various books, and a once-flaming sword, was left by his bed, and he slept fitfully with Dog underneath his arm. 

He had to help, somehow. He was sure about it. He just hoped that what he could do was enough, or if God would hold up on Her promise. 

Midnight came. Adam rolled out of his bed, woke up Dog, and felt as if he was about to cry.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Thirty One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 21st, 1987

“There, you see, Emile? It’s as easy as that,” his dad said, helping Emile stir the noodles in the pot.

“And when this is done we’ll have mac and cheese?” Emile looked up at his dad.

With a smile, his dad nodded. “We’ll have dinner, and we’ll have spent time together. And both of those things are extremely important, and good for the soul.”

Emile nodded sagely. He didn’t always understand what his dad was saying, but in this case it seemed really, really important. He hoped that one day soon, he would understand what “good for the soul” meant.

  May 26th, 2001

Remy was laughing with Emile’s dad, and Emile was watching them both fondly. He was really glad that Remy had jumped on the chance to cook. He definitely knew how to slice and dice, and Emile was impressed. Now whether he could cook the things he was cutting up was another story entirely. “You don’t think we have stuff to make half a dozen cupcakes, do you?” Remy asked.

“We might, why do you ask?” Dad replied.

“Well...we kinda forgot to celebrate Emile’s birthday due to an...unfortunate situation up in town.”

“A...situation?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, we had so much of a situation we accidentally forgot about Emile’s birthday and didn’t get to celebrate,” Remy said sheepishly. “And then it came time to pay rent and we just...never celebrated. But I really want to fix that.”

Dad nodded. “We’ll be making cupcakes then,” he said simply.

“That’s...that’s really not necessary, Dad, we don’t have to celebrate,” Emile said.

“Of course we do, you’ve turned twenty! That’s plenty of cause to celebrate!” his dad declared. “Two whole decades on this planet!”

“You turned twenty? Not nineteen?” Remy asked.

“I was held back in kindergarten,” Emile waved off. “I hadn’t yet learned to read, believe it or not.”

“You didn’t know how to read when you were five?” Remy asked skeptically. “You?”

Emile shrugged. “Took until I was six for everything to click properly. Once I figured it out, I was quickly moving to the top of my class.”

“Ah,” Remy said. “You would have an origin story like that.”

Emile frowned. He had no clue what that was supposed to mean. “What?”

“Just...your brain seems to operate like a supercomputer, sometimes. You went from knowing virtually nothing to knowing virtually everything you asked about within the span of a year. You would. Because this is you we’re talking about, and you’re nothing if not extraordinary.”

“That’s gay, Rem,” Emile said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“We’re gay, Emile,” Remy pointed out.

“You’re gay. I’m bisexual,” Emile teased.

Remy rolled his eyes and shook his head, and Emile laughed, heart warming. He loved having little domestic moments with Remy, it made him think that they could stay together forever. He moved closer and kissed Remy’s cheek, and Remy turned red. “Stop!” he said, playfully swatting Emile’s arm. “That’s not playing fair!”

“Who said I intended to play fair?” Emile asked with a wink.

“If you’re not playing fair, you can leave the kitchen,” Remy said. “Because I need to focus on cooking.”

“Okay, boys, one of you grab a pot and fill it up with water, will you?” Dad asked.

Emile went to grab a pot, and Remy looked at the bowl they were using to mix ingredients for their meatballs with a frown. “The meatballs are missing something,” he mused.

“We added everything in the recipe,” Dad said.

“No, no, I know that,” Remy said. “But that won’t give the meatballs an extra kick in the tastebuds. It needs something else.” Remy stared at the bowl intently before saying, “Olive oil. Do you have any olive oil? I think we’ll only need like, two tablespoons.”

Dad silently passed Remy the bottle of olive oil and Remy poured in what looked to be about two tablespoons, mixing it into the meat in the bowl. Emile watched curiously. “You know, if this goes wrong, all the blame for the food tasting weird is going to land on your shoulders. Jokingly, of course, but still.”

“It won’t go wrong,” Remy said. “Let’s get these suckers in the oven and start cooking the rice.”

Emile pulled out a cookie sheet they would use to bake the meatballs on and watched in fascination as Remy near-expertly rolled the meatballs in seconds, putting them on the tray just so. Dad whistled. “You never told me your boyfriend knew his way around the kitchen, Emile.”

Remy was grinning as he worked. Emile said, “Dad, he only eats granola and instant ramen at home. I didn’t even know he knew how to cook.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Emile. I would have thought you lived by that philosophy,” Remy teased.

Emile rolled his eyes. “I never said you couldn’t cook. Cooking wasn’t brought up between us until the day you agreed to come home with me.”

“You doubted me a little,” Remy said, squinting at Emile. “You were skeptical.”

“So I was wrong, what’s the big deal?” Emile asked.

“Nothing much, I’m just happy to know you’re not perfect,” Remy said. “Lowers the bar for my expected performance just a bit.”

“You know, no one expects you to be perfect, Rem,” Emile said.

Remy scowled. “My parents do.”

“No one who matters, then,” Emile said before he could stop himself.

Remy froze and rounded on Emile, hands coated in flour still as he crossed his arms. “Are you saying my parents don’t matter?”

“Are you saying that you still want to meet their standards after they made it very clear that they’d rather have you dead than happy?” Emile asked.

Dad choked and Emile winced. “That...I would say it’s not as bad as it sounds, Dad, but I’d be lying,” Emile sighed.

“Hey, my parents may be a little controlling, but they’ll come around,” Remy said. “Once I make it clear that this makes me happy, they’ll see that I can handle myself, and they’ll be glad I’m happy.”

Emile knew that wasn’t true. In all his twenty years of existence, people who he had met that were like Remy’s parents didn’t rest until they saw you as perfect, by their standards and not anyone else’s. Emile would treat them civilly, and with respect, but to him, their opinions meant jack. Clearly, though, Remy was clinging to the hope that his parents might come around.

Emile didn’t want to dash those hopes, but he also didn’t want Remy to be let down when his parents failed him again. And they would fail him again if they didn’t get their act together. Emile doubted they would even make an attempt to fix the rift they had created. To them, everything was fine and Remy was the problem child. He didn’t know how to respond. “If you say so,” Emile said.

“You don’t believe me,” Remy huffed.

“No, I don’t,” Emile admitted. “But there is always a chance, and if you want to hold onto that infinitesimal chance, then I can’t exactly stop you.”

“Infinitesimal,” Remy repeated. “You really think...you haven’t even met my parents properly!”

“I met your mother at the police station after they put you in holding,” Emile said. “And I was not a fan.”

“I take it this is the ‘incident’ in question?” Dad asked.

“Unfortunately,” Emile said. “Remy’s mother claimed he was a runaway staying at our apartment so that she could drag him back to his parents’ house and they could continue to dictate his life.”

“You’re making it out to be way worse than it was!” Remy protested.

“You were put in a holding cell, Rem!” Emile snapped back.

“Boys, please,” Dad cut in. “Clearly, this is a touchy subject for both of you. Take a step back and regroup before you try and resolve this, okay? Shouting at each other will get you nowhere.”

Emile huffed and Remy just silently turned back to the meatballs. Dad looked at Emile and arched an eyebrow, decidedly unimpressed with Emile’s behavior, and Emile wanted to hide his face in a sweater, or else just go to his room until he cooled off. But he couldn’t leave Remy alone, so Emile scowled back at him. Dad didn’t know the context of the situation, he couldn’t understand what the big deal was!

Dad just gave him that level, thousand-yard stare back. Emile hadn’t been on the receiving end of that one for a long time. It was usually his last warning before he got a talking-to. Inwardly, he scoffed. A talking-to. Like he didn’t know Remy better than his dad or even his mom did. They had known Remy all of two hours. Emile pat Remy’s shoulder twice and left the room. He was not having this discussion. It just wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to explain why he was so angry, especially considering that he would have to go into Remy’s family life, and Remy didn’t like anyone doing that.

Emile stalked all the way to his room, and flopped down on his bed. He really wasn’t up for this as much as he thought he was. Maybe coming here for the weekend was a bad idea.

He stared at the ceiling for an indeterminable amount of time before there was a knock on his bedroom door. He flipped over onto his stomach and buried his head in his pillow. “Not now, Mom.”

“Emile, you haven’t stormed out of any room since you were fourteen years old. Something is wrong, and I know you’ll feel better if you talk about it sooner rather than later,” Mom said.

“No,” Emile repeated, burying his head in his pillow further.

His mom tutted. “You know, you’re acting an awful lot like how you described Remy in the beginning of your relationship,” she said neutrally.

Emile pushed himself off the bed, pacing and running his hands through his hair. “Yeah? Well I understand where he was coming from, now, so maybe it’s normal to act like that after meeting his fu—”

“—Think carefully before you finish that sentence,” his mom warned.

“He’s clinging to a hope that’s completely unrealistic! I’ve met people like his parents before, and all they want is for you to meet their expectations, no matter how impossible it is to reach them! He’s setting himself up for failure, and I don’t want to see him get hurt!” Emile growled.

“Then tell him where you’re coming from,” his mom said.

Emile laughed incredulously. “Don’t you think I would have already tried that?! He’s completely closed off to feedback!”

“Yeah, well, given your delivery of this little rant, it’s a small wonder he listens to you at all,” his mom said. “You’re not exactly being gentle.”

Emile scoffed. “Every time I try to be gentle, he shuts me down! He hates sugarcoating, but he also won’t listen at all when it comes to those two idiots he has the misfortune to call his parents!”

His mom stepped in front of Emile, and forced him to stay still. She gazed up into his eyes and smiled softly. “Emile, you can’t save everyone. Not everyone wants to be saved. And you have a long way to go before you know almost everything about helping people through past trauma. Have you ever considered that, maybe, he doesn’t like sugarcoating because he feels lied to? Furthermore, maybe his parents are a sensitive topic, one of the few where no matter what you do, you have to be gentle. Sugarcoating might not be the way to go, but you can’t just storm in and expect him to listen to you, especially when you’re acting the way you are right now.”

“Why can’t he understand that wanting them to be there is hurting him? He’s the reason he’s setting himself up for disappointment. And if they don’t change and he lets them back in his life, he’s going to get hurt worse,” Emile said.

His mom gave him a hug. “Honey, you can’t save everyone. No one expects you to. And if Remy wants to believe his parents can change, let him for now. It means he isn’t ready to accept your view on the matter yet.”

“What if he’s never ready?” Emile asked. “What if he continuously tries to convince himself his parents will change their mind?”

“Then you let him believe that, honey,” his mom said. “And if you can’t stand to watch him get hurt, then you walk away.”

Emile swallowed, but nodded. He didn’t like that prospect, but he knew that his mom was right. If watching Remy get hurt was going to hurt Emile, then clearly he couldn’t stick around forever watching Remy get worse and worse, over and over.

[mintchocolateleaves]

Cost of Freedom (42/52)

Summary:  In which Heiji confronts a tail, and Saguru refuses to leave the precinct without the full case notes in his possession.

A/N: 2020 has been a year you guys. I’m not even going to try to explain everything that’s added to this taking forever. Just, it’s here now. Cool. It’s 4am. I’m going to sleep.

[Chapter List]

--

Someone is following him.

Nervousness fills him as he moves, because someone is following him and trying to figure out which of the three are his suspect is difficult. Either paranoia is filling him up, swelling in his stomach like a sickness – something he’ll feel stupid about later – or they’ve slipped up somehow and revealed themselves.

Except, Heiji isn’t so sure what’s been done to five themselves away. If it’s anything then… it must be the website, right?

They’d clicked into it and set off some sort of… alert?

Heiji shudders. What kind of organisation are they working with, if even looking on a website can tip them off?

Moving forwards, Heiji turns, cuts a corner nearer to his house. If it were a normal day, he’d head left and down the road to his own house. Instead, he turns right.

As he turns, he takes a moment to glance over his shoulder to the three still following behind him. The pair of teenagers follow behind too. The businessman, however, keeps walking straight.

Heiji shudders.

He watches from the corner of his eye as the businessman keeps moving, walking straight, swinging his briefcase until the wall between them obscures all vision of him.

“Oh, fuck me…” Heiji mutters under his breath. His heart feels like it’s going to burst from his chest. And he’s still got two more following him to worry about. He wonders if this is how Kudo has felt the entire time, since he’d been free but not, how he feels knowing that everyone he walks past could be after him,

If this is the way his paranoia feels, Heiji wonders how Kudo can even sleep at all. He feels faintly, like he’ll never sleep again. He turns right, into another side street that’s more obscured from view, brows furrowing as he walks.

Perhaps he’s setting himself up as he starts heading to this route, but it’s the only way to know for certain, if he’s being followed. The side street leads to a dead end – unless they know, like Heiji does, that there’s a small hole in one of the neighbourhood fences.

An unknown detail, Heiji knows, unless you’ve spent the entirety of your childhood looking for lost pets and learning the neighbourhood down to even the smallest rock.

They follow. Heiji tenses.

His gaze sweeps around for something that could be used to protect himself. Something long, something that could resemble a bokken. He’s trained for years at kendo, so even if something happens here, he can at least try to protect himself.

He untenses himself from panicked into a different sort of tension. Readying himself on adrenaline for a fight. There are some old construction materials here, a plank of wood that he heads towards. Covertly, of course, so as not to raise suspicion–

“Hattori.”

Heiji jumps, pivoting as he does to look at the two girls. And oh, for fucks sake. The voice is familiar…

“Are th’ two of ya completely insane?” He hisses to the disguised selves of Kuroba and Nakamori Aoko. “Ya don’t jus’ sneak up on a guy like tha’.”

-

It’s difficult to consider what exactly they’re supposed to do next.

Ran follows after Saguru, waits for him to quit moving as they leave the department behind. That was a bust, she supposes, but they’ll find another way around things. They just need to figure out a… way to do that.

“We need the case files,” Saguru says, when they’re outside of the offices, leading Ran into a small alcove, pausing as he glances up and down the corridor. “We’re not going to be able to find Kudo-kun without them.”

Pressing her lips together, Ran glances away. She’s not sure how they’re supposed to get them if they’ve been taken off the case, if they don’t have the access to them anymore. There’s no way, it seems almost as if it’s… out of their hands now. They’ll just have to use the information they’ve got on hand to figure things out.

“They won’t give them to us.” Ran says. “You know that.”

Saguru pauses, nods. Taking a moment to think, he’s entirely quiet, until:

“We need to take them.”

“We can’t!” Ran is uncertain if it’s fear, or nervousness that leads to her moving forward, tugging on his sleeve so he’s properly looking at her. There’s a… there should be a limit, shouldn’t there? “Inspector Nakamori already said–”

“The inspector is still reeling from his daughter choosing KID over him,” Saguru says. His brows furrow, a frown flashing across his features. “Which… should have been expected, honestly. Even as KID, Kuroba showed her more attention.”

He pauses, glances away again for the moment.

“They’re…” Saguru sighs. “They’re both in danger. Kudo-kun’s case… they’re a part of it now too. More of my friends are in danger, and I… We need those files because we need to find them, to give them the evidence we found.”

Ran falters, feels her shoulders drop.

“I don’t want them to get hurt anymore than they already have,” Saguru continues. “If we can help them by breaking a few rules, then shouldn’t we?”

“It shouldn’t work like that,” Ran says, although she knows like each other time he’s made a point like this, she’ll cave.

“But it does,” Saguru says. “Come on, all I need is an open terminal.”

Ran sighs. And then, she nods her head. “I think there was one just around the corner.”

“Let’s go then.” Saguru says, leading the way. Ran follows behind him. “Something tells me we don’t have much time.”

-

Kazuha arrives to the shrine with a feeling of trepidation curdling in her stomach, acid rising up her throat. She shouldn’t have left Heiji, she should have stayed, but he’s always been stubborn and she understands why he told her to go. She just…

Sometimes she wishes she’d never gotten involved. That she’d been smarter before all this, when Heiji had started going on his weekend trips from Osaka to catch on that they were to visit Shinichi. Then, maybe she wouldn’t need to be so worried about Heiji.

She can’t change it thought, can’t go back and so instead, she hides her motorbike among overgrown plant life, focuses on sweeping away as much evidence of her being here as possible.

Shinichi doesn’t come out to see if it’s her, and Kazuha wouldn’t expect him too. Instead, she focuses on getting this done as quickly as she can while still being efficient, before heading up towards the shrine.

It always makes her sad to think about how this place was vibrant once. Without weeds and ivy growing up along the side of the building, nettles interweaving the wooden staircase up into the building, almost as if trying to devour the place.

People used to pray here, but she doesn’t know for what. She wonders if they should start praying for safety. She closes her eyes at the door and prays, in particular, for the omamori she’d gifted Heiji with when they were children, to keep him safe.

If he needs that.

She really hopes he doesn’t.

Her prayer finished, she steps inside, and goes in search for Shinichi. He’s not in the reception area, but she finds him further inside, in on of the side rooms they’d set up for a sleeping area.

“Shinichi-kun?”

She can’t keep the alarm from her voice. Shinichi sits, his knees up to his chest, nose pressed against the fabric of his jeans, hands brought up into his hair. His breath comes in sharp inhales, and she can see from the way that he’s shaking, that it’s panic.

Kazuha steps inside.

“I’m comin’ in,” Kazuha says, as she comes closer. She gets a small noise, affirming, but not much else. Not that she’d expect more from him, not that she’d want to hear gasping words. “I’m gonna sit next to ya, okay?”

A staggered nod – Kazuha takes it as permission, and sits, her back pressed against the wall, own arms holding her legs as she takes a moment to consider the best way to help.

Panic attacks aren’t a stranger to her, haven’t been since she was a child. Hands gripped around the edges of her blankets, around teddy bears and Heiji, her knuckles going white from the tightness of it all.

All it had taken was her father getting injured in a confrontation with a suspect at work, and she’d been terrified for him each day when he’d gone to work. The way it had felt difficult to breathe���

“Breathe in with me Shinichi,” she says, keeping her voice low, trying to make her words softer, less of the usual harshness in her accent. “I’m gonna count from five and you breathe in, okay?”

Shinichi nods.

Kazuha counts – this is the point where she usually shuts her eyes, but she can’t. She keeps her gaze on Shinichi, monitoring, trying to make sure he’s okay. Instead, she soothes herself by counting things designed to soothe herself.

“Five.”

Kazuha is safe, somewhere that’s unknown.

“Four.”

Shinichi is also safe, even if his body is flooding with adrenaline, his breathing staggered and harsh.

“Three.”

They’re in a shrine that has almost become one with nature, on the brink of society and it feels like no one will ever find them here, like even if they let their guards down accidentally, it’d be alright.

“Two.”

Heiji is saf–

“One.”

Heiji is…

Now she does close her eyes. Focuses on counting and keeps to it. She doesn’t want to think anymore, lest she join in with her own panic.

It must work, because eventually, Shinichi’s breathing becomes less uneven, deeper. She can feel when he stops shaking, the way he slumps back slightly against the wall – not relaxed, but better.

“…It was her.” Shinichi says. “Vermouth.”

Kazuha frowns, trying to piece things together. Shinichi hasn’t mentioned Vermouth before, not until yesterday, when he’d claimed she was Sharon Vineyard. She doesn’t see where she fits into things.

“Vermouth,” Shinichi continues, breath hitching. “She killed those people. I… spoke to her in Kyoto.”

Kazuha’s blood turns to slush, a mixture between horrified ice, and overwhelmingly hot rage, anger on Shinichi’s behalf. To be stood in front of… to have to talk to the person responsible for everything he’d been blamed for…

“She…”

“We’d met before.” His voice settles, miserable. “…Three times before. Although… now I know who she is… we’ve probably met more often than that…”

“An’ she killed those people?” Kazuha asks, words soft.

“…Yes.” Shinichi says. “Because of me.”

“It’s not your fault–”

“It is,” Shinichi says. He turns to look at her now, miserable, like the world is weighing him down. He is Atlas, and Vermouth is the person who has placed the weight of the world down onto his shoulders. When he reaches his hand up to his neck, scratching, Kazuha leans forward and slowly takes his hand. “She did it for me.”

“Did ya ask her to?”

“Of course not.” His tone is vehement, horrified. “I would never–”

“Then it wasn’t for you,” Kazuha says, gently. “That’s just an excuse. She’s th’ guilty one, not you.”

“She did it,” Shinichi says, shuddering, “so that the organisation would frame me, instead of killing me. I would’ve never… She’d have faked my death.”

“That’s still not your fault,” Kazuha says. At his weak expression, she leans forward, hand on his shoulder. “It isn’t.”

“It feels like it is,” Shinichi whispers. “If I’d backed off when she told me too…”

“Then more people would have died,” Kazuha says, firmly. “You just wouldn’t have known about it.”

Shinichi sighs. He lifts his hands up to his neck, before pausing. “Where’s Hattori?”

-

Saguru finds an abandoned computer terminal and Ran is instructed to keep watch.

“Just act like we’re meant to be here,” he says. “I’ve been down here often enough to be recognised – they won’t second guess us.”

Ran bites her lip.

She doesn’t ask why this department is different to theft, why they won’t kick them out. Instead, she trusts that Saguru isn’t too tired, too injured to know what he’s doing. Even if it feels like they’re painting large targets on their backs, she trusts him.

He kept her safe, and she’ll do the same for him. She makes the promise to herself. As her brain blocks out the generic noise of the precinct, her ears focusing on the way Saguru’s fingers clack at the keyboard, she promises that she won’t let anyone else get hurt for her sake again.

The silence is almost overbearing as her promise settles on her shoulders.

“We’re going to need everything,” Saguru mutters under his breath, and Ran is pretty sure that it’s not an invitation for them to converse but simply a reminder to himself to be thorough.

Ran sighs.

“We don’t need everything,” she says, regardless of whether it was intended for her or not. “I’ve got some evidence at home for Shinichi’s case–”

“I’m going to get everything, just in case,” Saguru says, cutting her off. His voice is firm. “Or there might be things that they didn’t necessarily give you. Like the video interviews, the transcripts. Everything regarding what happened with Kuroba and Aoko-san yesterday.”

Another sigh.

“How long do you think this will take?” Ran asks, quietly.

“Hopefully,” Saguru says, fingertips faltering at the computer, forehead crinkling into a frown. “…It doesn’t extend into time that we don’t have.”

“Alright,” Ran says, quietly. She doesn’t mention how that’s not an answer. “And we’re what… we can’t be printing all this off, can we?”

“I’ve got a USB stick; I’m going to copy them over.” Saguru says. “The only issue is trying to make it so the system won’t flag the fact I’m copying all of these files over.”

Ran pauses.

“I don’t think I want to ask how you know how to do all of this,” she says, after a moment.

“Understandable,” Saguru says.

Ran pulls her attention away from him, surveying the room instead. They’ve found an area outside of theft, so as to avoid Inspector Nakamori’s attention, but it’s still busy.

There’s an influx of people moving in and out of the department. Some carrying case folders, others carrying mugs of coffee. Most monitors have the bright white LEDs of a case report being written up, although from this distance, it’s impossible to read the writing on the screen.

She glances out around the room instead, mouth open partly, as she fiddles with her hands. Mostly, there’s just an influx of police officers she’s never met before. And then–

Short, bobbed hair.

And a butterfly tattoo.

Ran frowns. She doesn’t know why she feels unsettled, but a coldness runs down her spine as she glances back to Saguru.

“Which department is this again?” She asks quietly.

“Organised crime,” Saguru says offhandedly. He pauses for a moment, gaze flickering up to her. “Why?”

“I think our case might be being investigated in her too,” Ran says quietly. “The waitress from yesterday, I think she’d have been called in as a witness, right?”

Saguru pauses.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s not good.”

“We need to go before she notices us,” Ran says.

“Else they’ll link…” He trails off, body going tense. “Alright this might not be… the full files but it’s enough. Give me one more minute.”

Ran wants to refuse him.

A minute, she wants to say, feels like a lifetime when placed under pressure. It feels like an eternity stretched out into a large expanse of nothingness where an impending disaster is right on the horizon but all you can do is stand and watch as it moves in slow motion.

Ran wants to refuse him, to say they don’t have a minute. But she doesn’t.

Instead, she watches as Saguru pulls out a USB stick and inserts it into the computer, loading it up and mass copying over files. She keeps an eye on the waitress across the room, trying to remain subtle.

“Almost–” The computer works quickly enough, but for a moment, as her gaze flickers back to the screen, it seems as if the process will remain at 78% completion.

Ran glances back to the waitress and waits, her lips pressed together in a firm line.

“Done,” Saguru says. “Let’s go.”

He yanks the USB from the drive, before logging off from the computer. Then, he pushes his chair out, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Let’s go,” Saguru says, as he pushes up, letting out a small hiss as he does. His pain relief must be wearing off.

Ran lets her attention remain on the waitress for one last second – she doesn’t seem to have noticed her, is messaging on her phone – before focusing on the door.

“Let’s never do anything like this again,” Ran says weakly.

Saguru lets out a small laugh.

-

“For the record,” Kuroba says as he focuses on Heiji, his voice pitched high in a melodic lilt, feminine and very much keeping up the disguise. “Walking straight up to you somewhere crowded would have been much more suspicious.”

Nakamori nods beside him but remains quiet.

Heiji understands it, but his heart rate isn’t getting the memo. The paranoia they’ve instilled in him has adrenaline rushing through his blood, has him waiting for the moment something bad occurs.

It doesn’t. Heiji stays stood where he is, his fight-or-flight sense betraying him as two more associates on the run stand calmly in front of him.

They must be insane. Heiji officially rules that they’re not sane. The pair of them are completely and utterly insane and it’s only moderately terrifying.

“I get tha’,” Heiji says after a moment, “but still.”

“He does have a point,” Nakamori says, nodding her head. “It doesn’t help with all the paranoia. Especially on a case like Kudo-kun’s.”

Heiji’s gaze flickers from Kuroba to Nakamori before settling back on the thief. His nervousness shifts into something hot, something boiling in his blood as a flood of anger rushes through him.

“You told her about the case?” He hisses.

“She broke me out of hospital,” Kuroba says with a shrug. “Including police custody. I think Aoko deserves to know about the case.”

“It’s dangerous!” Heiji protests.

“I’ve gathered that,” Nakamori says, dryly. “Since I was almost killed by a sniper.”

Heiji glances between them both. The anger fizzles out slightly as he considers. “They were aiming at you and not KID?”

Nakamori shakes her head. “I doubt it was that.”

“I gave Aoko my gas mask during the heist,” Kaito says. “I needed her help with my escape plan – they must have been shooting for the mask. We reckon it’d have been easier to shoot at a mask through all the tear gas.”

“All things we can explain fully,” Nakamori says, crossing her arms, “in a group. We’d like you to take us to Kudo-kun, please.”

Heiji looks between them both, before offering a small sigh. “…I don’t have a spare bike, if ya can get one that you can follow me on withou’ drawing attention to you, then I guess so.”

“I’m very good at acquiring things without a trace,” Kuroba says, a brightness to his tone. Beside him, Nakamori rolls her eyes, shaking her head, exasperated.

“Give us a few hours,” Nakamori says, more calmly. She levels Heiji with an even look, determined, unwavering. “We’ll find something.”

Heiji’s brows furrow slightly, before he nods. “Take the Hanshin expressway out of the city – route 13. Down th’ Daini Keihan road there’s a turnin’ that leads to Katano, takes about half an hour – there’s a small dirt path off the track, I’ll meet ya there and we’ll head out after tha’.”

“It’s almost four now…” Nakamori says, quietly, frowning.

“Eight p.m.,” Kuroba says. “We’ll be there for eight. Allow us half an hour past that and if we’re not there by then, we’ll contact you if we can.”

Well… that sounds ominous.

Still, Heiji nods. “…Alrigh’, I’ll let them know.”

-

The phone call interrupts them both, saving Kazuha from answering with whatever half-hearted, scrambled excuse she could think up. She’s glad, really for two reasons.

The first, obviously, because of the relief that floods through her seeing Heiji’s caller I.D. pop up on her phone screen, the image of him frowning down at her when they’d been studying together for their midterms before, telling her to get off her phone.

The second reason being that she doesn’t need to come up with a lie. Kazuha’s not bad at mistruths – not when the situation depends on it, at least – but lying to an ex-detective, to anyone with the skills to read people down to the faintest verbal tic?

Yeah, Kazuha doesn’t fancy her chances.

“One moment,” Kazuha says, as she presses answer. Shinichi raises an eyebrow at her, but otherwise remains quiet.

Kazuha waits.

“We were bein’ followed,” Heiji says by way of greeting, “but not by anyone tha’ wants to kill us or anythin’.”

“You do realise,” Kazuha says after a moment, “that this isn’t comforting if you don’t offer me more information, right? You do know that?”

“Ahou,” Heiji hisses, before continuing, “of course I know tha’. You just didn’t let me finish. Let Kudo know Kuroba and his girlfriend are here, and he’ll see them soon.”

Kazuha pauses for a moment, processing. “What time will you get here?”

“About nine,” Heiji says. “We’ll have to leave ‘em to get caught up, we can’t stay tha’ long.”

Kazuha nods to herself. “Okay, I’ll see if I can scrounge up some extra blankets for ‘em.”

“Later,” Heiji says, as he hangs up.

Shinichi’s watching her quietly as she puts her phone away, contemplating. The tension in his shoulders has eased slightly, the ram-rod straightness of his spine easing in, not quite a slouch but something more natural, comfier.

“They broke out of the hospital and headed straight to Hattori,” he says.

“Seems like it.”

There’s a moment where Shinichi simply breathes, relaxed, before the previous tensions returns tenfold, his brows furrowing.

“What if they were followed?” He asks. “They came straight here, they’re linking Hattori–”

“We’re…” Kazuha can’t deny that it’s something worrying to consider, but she shakes her head. “They wouldn’t risk something like that. They’re on the run too.”

It seems she’s said the right thing, like Shinichi simply needed to be reminded, because he settles again without any further issue, offering a short nod.

“…Right,” Shinichi says, quietly, voice mostly a whisper. “Right. You’re right.”

Kazuha pushes up from the floor. “They won’t be here for a couple hours, so are you gonna help me search for some blankets, or what?”

[sparkling-moon]

Hi hello!

So a while ago when I hit 100 followers, I asked if you guys wanted to see some of my original writing and I've had quite some people asking me for them so... Yeah. Here ya go.

This is my first time publically posting anything since like 2014 so bare with me aha. Just a warning that this won't be consistent, just whenever I feel like it and if I'm confident enough to share it with the world as well. So uh, please be nice.

Enjoy!

Moon 🌙

-----

I dreamt about you last night.

The kind that makes you want to stay asleep and dream forever.

You were in my home town for some reason. I don't know how you got here, but you did.

I invited you over when the rest of my family was out and we watched movies together.

It was really quite awkward between us, like we wanted to say something, but we didn't know how or where to start.

Whenever we accidentally touched, we both kept softly laughing. It was so awkward, my gosh.

Then I broke the ice somehow and got you to laugh normally. It was perfect after that.

We sat closer together, our shoulders touching, and I leaned my head on your shoulder like I always do when I want to be closer to you. It was my way of saying is this ok? Are you comfortable with me touching you?

Then you put your arm behind and around me, snuggling me close.

You kissed the top of my head and rested your cheek there.

My face was right in the crook of your neck and I could smell you.

Your scent always made me stop for a couple seconds. When I suddenly got a whiff of your scent in class one day, I stopped right there and kept inhaling the soft waves. I got a bit dizzy and I smiled, forgetting just for a moment.

I wrapped my arms around your middle and pulled you closer.

I could feel your lips curl into a small smile as you kissed my head again.

"You good?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "You're really warm."

You chuckled. "And you're really small. I'm always warm."

I briefly released you for a bit to look up to your face.

"My own personal heater," I said, smiling.

"That I am."

We snuggled like that for a bit, enjoying each other's company. I didn't want it to end.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket. I sighed, releasing my arms once more.

"It's my mum. Give me a sec." With that, I got up and walked a fair few steps from you.

"Hey, mum," I said softly.

"Hey sweetie, just wanted to let you know that we'll be back soon."

I paused. "Soon? How soon?"

"Hmm, maybe in half an hour?" Pause. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah no, everything is fine! I can't wait to see you guys again!" I said, laughing nervously. You looked to me and raised an eyebrow. Something wrong?

I shook my head. "It's fine," I mouthed.

"Sweetie?"

"Hmm?" I said, quickly snapping out of it. "Did you say something?"

"Just to say that I can't wait to see you as well."

I breathed. "Tell dad to drive safe!"

"Will do, sweetie!" Kissy noises sounded through my phone. "Gonna hang up now! Love you!"

"Love you too..." Click. "Phew, nearly gave me a heart attack," I said, fake wiping my forehead.

"Was that your mum? Is she coming soon?" You got up and walked over to me.

"Yeah and yeah. They'll be here in half an hour."

Your eyes twinkled with happiness and then confusion. "Do they know I'm here?"

I paused. "Uh, no? They know about you, but uh, I haven't actually had time to tell them that you were coming because you surprised me too!" I jabbed at his side. He was equally as quick and jumped away.

"So... Do you want me to leave now?" You chuckled softly, but your smile didn't reach your eyes.

I thought for a moment. "Maybe just for an hour or so? Just until after I've told them that you're here?" I said, apologetically. "My family don't like meeting new people without knowing about it first." I paused before softly adding, "anxiety kind of runs in our family."

"Ah," you said as you took a step forward. "Don't worry about it. I'm a big boy, I can entertain myself for a bit."

Then you reached a hand to push a strand of stray hair behind my ear and then cupped my cheek. I pushed a kiss into your hand. Your big, warm hand.

You breathed and reached your other hand, this time grabbing at my waist and pulling me towards you. You dropped your forehead to mine, looking into my eyes.

"What?" I whispered, breaking the silence.

"I just... Can't believe I'm with you," you confessed shyly. "I'm so damn lucky to have you."

I laughed softly. "And I'm lucky to have such a sweet and loving boyfriend."

Your eyes held mine for a second, gleaming with admiration and love, before your eyes dropped to my lips and swiped your thumb across them.

"Such pretty lips..." You mumbled.

Next thing I know, your lips are on mine.

You pressed your tongue to my lips and I gladly parted them without a fight. That made you smile.

Our tongues explored each other's mouths and I tasted the dark chocolate you had before.

When we separated, we were both breathless. You rested your forehead on mine again to look into my eyes and then pressed a kiss on my forehead. I giggled.

"I love when you do that," I said, smiling.

"And I love when you let me love you."

We stood in my kitchen, just holding each other and giggling.

"Ok, you need to get going," I said. "They'll be here really soon."

You chuckled loudly. "You gotta let me go first."

I shook my head no, but sighed and pulled away slightly. "I'll call you as soon as they know."

"No stress, princess. I'll wait however long it takes," you said, giving me a smile.

I smiled back.

And then you grabbed your things and was out the door (not before stealing a kiss, though) and I waved at the drive way as you reversed out and as you rode into the night.

Once I couldn't see your car anymore (actually a rental car, but anyway), I sighed and slumped back home.

When inside, I made myself a cup of tea and kept watching the rest of the movie until the door bell rang, signalling my family's return.

Then I heard a song playing really loudly and just as I went to lower the volume, I woke up.

And I realised that it was just a dream.

I was breathless and gulped air as I mulled over what had happened.

I sighed loudly and reached behind me to squeeze my pillow, burying my face into it.

"What a stupid dream," I muttered. "Why would you do that?"

I sighed again.

"That never happened and it probably won't happen ever. It's over. Whatever we were, if we were anything at all, it was over and I had finally accpeted it.

I stopped scrolling through Messenger to check when you were last active and stopped searching you up on Instagram and Facebook to see what you've been up to. Anything I could find to make sense of why you ignored me. Why all of a sudden you wouldn't reply to me.

My eyes watered and I groaned in frustration.

"It's nothing to cry over, you cry baby. He doesn't deserve you," I tried to reason. "You'll find your one. Just wait."

Then I curled onto my side, squeezing my pillow harder and drifted back to sleep.

I wish I would sleep forever.

[cloudbattrolls]

Kindling

Etuuya Vannyn | Several Nights Prior | OLSC Headquarters (Space)

You’re walking along the side of a vast white marble wall, Karina keeping pace several feet to your side. Spark trolls - the apparent proper name for the lava folks - move in their usual silent flow around the two of you. You feel the heat from them even if they never come closer than six feet or so, another layer of warmth in the already hot ship. 

Their bright, solid eyes - hues of purple, orange, red, or gold - linger, even if none of them ever speak to you or the tealblood. 

You toss Karina - she’s no longer the only Tulais - the ball again, the two of you having thrown it back and forth for several minutes now. 

This time she holds onto it, stopping.

“Vannyn.” She says, though her gaze is directed outward, you think. Her horns, a pair of inverted triangles, glint in the light. 

You follow her line of sight to the park - well, that’s the closest thing you can think to call it.

Most parks have trolls sitting, maybe walking pets or lusii, chatting or climbing trees. This one has plants carefully sheltered behind great glass domes, vast curling vines and palm-like trees protected from the fiery inhabitants. Instead of benches, there are spiraling grooves cut in the floor, getting deeper as they go down. 

Some of the park trolls smile, and if you flick your ears, you can hear soft laughter as they toss orbs of flame back and forth. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine they were ordinary Alternians.

If Alternian trolls spoke to each other solely by telepathy and unquestionably followed the orders of a crazy bird woman.

“Aren’t you used to them?” You ask her. They’re new to you, but you’d assumed Firebird’s descendant must be accustomed to them. 

The tealblood snorts softly. 

Her hair, usually loose around her shoulders, is in a tight braid. She’s dressed in what must be fireproof armor, though it’s light, cream-colored, looking almost ceramic. She never takes it off, not even around her ancestor. 

Perhaps especially then.

“I haven’t been here much before.” She replies. “She found me young, but she didn’t bring me to space until I was nine. She just...warped me out here one night, showed me her people.”

“Her people? Did she create them somehow, or does she just lead them?”

Karina shakes her head, and your ears flick in annoyance.

“Both, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Don’t you care? How have you not asked, in all the sweeps you’ve known her?”

The teal jerks her head back toward you, dark-eyed gaze resentful.

“I can’t just ask my ancestor anything I want. She’s not Lifeweaver.”

You put your hands on your skinny hips and stare her down.

“I haven’t a clue what you think you know about Rhomox outside of his research, but he - ”

A wailing alarm interrupts your conversation and the Spark trolls start flooding around the pair of you, a purposeful stream splitting off toward various sections of the vast ship. Karina jumps out of the path of their rushing feet, stepping closer to you, almost too close - what is it with the Tulaises and forgetting what you are -

You stick an arm out in front of the teal to protect her, in case any of them get aggressive. She looks at you with a startled expression, but you ignore her as your eyes and head dart around, trying to block out the harsh noise and focus.

“They’re manning the fire cannons. They must’ve found a ship.”

You freeze, then spin around as her words sink in. 

“They what?”

The teal looks away, her fists clenching by her sides so hard her knuckles are nearly white. The soft rubber ball is crushed under the fingers of her hand. 

“What are they going to do, Karina?”

“We can’t stop them!” She snaps. “Especially not you. They’ll burn you up in seconds if you try!”

You hiss in displeasure, but stay put and watch as the strange fiery trolls cluster around what you’d thought were simply decorative golden domes, but must be some sort of weaponry. They all put their hands on them, and flames lick out of their body and get absorbed by the shining material - metal? Glass? It’s impossible to tell.

The glow of their eyes flickers as they do, and a few fall to their knees and pass out, only to be replaced by others as they’re shoved out of the way. 

A spurt of platonic pity runs through you, but you snuff it out and glare at the teal, hugging herself as she stares with a tight, miserable expression. The wail of the alarms shuts off.

“What’s going on?” You say in a low, intent voice that brooks no room for a refusal to answer.

“Where do you think she got all these trolls? Only some were her original crew. I don’t know how she makes them into Sparks, but I know they can die, and she always wants more.”

“A troll can only become all fiery if she makes it so?” You ask her, businesslike and scientific. “Direct cause and effect?”

Just as Rhomox taught you. 

“I think so.” She says, a bit hesitant. “She’s always been vague about it, but she acts like they’re all hers. I’ve never met one who didn’t obey her.”

Firebird laid her hands on the troll she’d send to fetch you when asking you about the drinker you’d accidentally sired. Leaning over them, protective. Like a lusus might with their charge. 

Like you would for Uunive.

“Do you know how close she needs to be to do it? Proximity must be a factor, or she wouldn’t need to bring ships down.”

“Close.” Karina admits, then swears. “Vannyn, you can’t possibly mean to - ”

Too late, you’re off running toward the same place you were brought in. It’s only a guess that the poor captured sods will be brought there, but it’s the best you have to go on.

The clatter of Karina’s feet come from an increasing distance behind you as she fails to keep pace with your drinker speed.

You turn and give her a cheery wave before skipping through the docking doors (apparently Firebird doesn’t bother to lock them).

A rush of air blows your hair back as a ship is indeed towed into the vast hangar. It’s bigger than your little cruiser, but not by much - the crew can’t be large. 

Its metal surface is covered in huge melted spots. You doubt it’s ever going to fly again; at best it could be recycled for scrap.

Fire shouldn’t be able to even travel through space, but Firebird and her motley crew say fuck physics, apparently.

Which is just such fantastic news.

“Have you come to see the creation of more fledglings? You could have just asked.”

She’s hovering many feet above you, yet her voice is as clear as if she was speaking in your ear.

“Well, go on and show me then, if it’s all aces with you.”

You put your hands in your pants pockets as if it hardly matters one way or the other.

A ripple of laughter reaches you, and she melts a hole in the ship’s door by shooting a stream of fire from a hand. You half expect the crew to come out guns blazing, ready to die in the style of true Imperial trolls, but nothing happens.

Wary of the red-hot edges of the hole, you run over and peer through it.

No one ran out because no one seems to be able to stand.

You breathe in, the familiar visceral scent of death present. A few trolls seem to have been literally cooked by convection, the ones closest to the ship’s edges. Their flesh is seared and bubbling, their horns blackened and crumbling.

Others seem to be alive, but barely, writhing in pain on the floor and hardly paying you any mind.

You walk in carefully, trying not to step on the wounded. Part of you wants to feed on their blood, but you ignore it. Hardly the time.

As you go further in, through a few sliding doors, you find a few trolls huddled together. They flinch at the sight of you, but one - dressed in grays, no apparent symbol showing - grabs a gun and points it at your chest.

“Who the fuck are you? I’ll shoot! Are you with the Empire? Why did you capture us?”

Huh.

“So you’re not Imperial?” You query. 

They look just as confused as you feel, only with added anger.

“Fuck no! I have no idea what the hell’s going on, but we’re not Empire! Are you?”

“Do you see a trident anywhere?” You ask dryly. “Believe me, the most highly the Empire thinks of me is as a science experiment. Also, I didn’t capture you.”

“Then what are you doing on our shi - ” 

All of you flinch from the heat as Firebird melts a hole in the ship roof and swoops down, landing in the room you’re in.

“You are about to witness a glorious thing, little Vannyn.” She says to you, as if the other trolls don’t exist, slack-jawed at her appearance. She hardly fits in the space, even with her wings folded up against her back.

The claws of her bird feet click against the floor as she steps toward the troll holding the gun, speaking to them in what you assume is meant to be a reassuring voice.

“You’ve been running from the Condesce for a long time, but I am here to save you.”

“By melting our ship? Yeah, I feel real safe!” snarks the troll who you feel rather endeared to, even if you know it can’t end well for them.

Why did Firebird attack the ship so recklessly? Karina said she wants as many trolls as she can get. Most are still alive, though some may not be for much longer, but a few were definitely dead. 

She laughs gently, and with a burst of red and purple fire, their gun begins to melt. They drop it instantly, wide gray eyes full of fear and hate, long ears pinned against their buzz-cut head.

“Don’t worry. You will have a whole new life.”

She bends down on her scaly knees, the tips of her wings brushing against the floor. The other trolls have fled out the other door, but she doesn’t seem to care. Probably because there’s nowhere for them to run.

Cupping her hands around their head, their size making the troll’s face look small, Firebird breaths deeply and exhales a strange teal fire from her mouth that surrounds like the troll like a cloud.

For a moment it simply hangs there.

Then the troll writhes and thrashes, and you see their skin start to smoke and blacken, then harden into stone, blood running from their eyes as they start glowing - 

You lunge at her, tearing out feathers that sear your skin, and she drops the troll, slapping you back with her shimmering wings. A faint clattering noise sounds, but you’re not sure if it’s real or in your jostled thinkpan.

“You dare interfere?” She says, in a voice that sounds almost like a raptor’s screech. 

“Eat me.” You manage, pulling yourself up off the floor after slamming into the wall. Not only was that a hell of a whack, the heat of her is a good reminder how outmatched you are. For all your strength and regeneration, you’re almost powerless against the teal.

The clattering noise gets louder and Karina bursts in, panting, her skin and braid slick with sweat.

“What...the fuck...is going on?” She demands between breaths.

You and Firebird both stop, looking at her and then each other.

“Leave us.” says Firebird dismissively, the troll on the floor making whimpering noises. “This isn’t for your eyes.” She flicks a hand at the door the younger teal just came through.

You study Karina’s white armor. Where are the catches for it? It almost looks like it’s all of a piece, but that’s not possible. There has to be some seam or join.

“But it’s for Vannyn’s?” She cries. 

There. Buckles, nearly the same color as the strange ceramic material.

“They have a chance of understanding. If they can stop acting foolish.” She replies, casting a glowing glare your way.

Karina’s teal slit pupils flick to the troll on the floor and she takes a step back. Then another. Closer to you, which is helpful.

“What...what’s going to happen to this troll?”

Firebird sighs, but also makes an annoyed chittering noise, her wings shifting.

“It isn’t your concern, Karina. Go, before I lose my patience.”

You yank off the younger teal’s breastplate in one swift pull, put it in your sylladex, and dart behind Firebird. You jump onto her back, using her wings as handholds as she thrashes, and scale her so that you’re gripping her shoulders. Your head is above the melted ceiling of the ship now, she’s so bloody tall, and your claws dig into her boiling hot flesh, teal blood running down the skin. 

You can feel your skin starting to burn.

“Take the survivors and get out!” You yell at your boss. “Take my ship!”

She doesn’t move as Firebird screeches, her wings beating and slamming into the confined space now, and you jump.

You leap up through the melted hole and come back down, trying to land on her shoulders - 

The eight foot tall woman plucks you out of the air with both hands gripping your body, baring her fangs as her feathered ears puff up in fury. She holds you up level with her face, only a few feet away.

“You would deny these hunted trolls their salvation? The Spark takes away pain! It makes trolls anew!”

Her half-transformed victim lets out an agonized moan below.

“And it makes people your minions, isn’t that convenient? Burning themselves out to power weapons to gather more trolls for you?”

Her eyes narrow.

“How can you not understand? You, composed of so many small parts? This is no different. We are all part of the Spark; I simply guide them to its power.”

Karina’s still here. Well, bugger her, she gets to see what comes next.

You smile at the crazed fanatic in front of you, showing all your long sharp drinker teeth. Your arms may pinned to your sides under her grip, but that doesn’t matter.

Not when you open your mouth and spit a mass of worms in her eyes.

She drops you to claw at them, swearing and screeching, and it’s not long until she kills them or they get cooked from the heat. 

So you jump, this time landing on her shoulders as planned, and send more into her throat, her nose. She writhes, but with less strength, and you whisper in her ear.

“Unlike you, I don’t need to ‘save’ other people to feel whole.”

She goes stiller yet.

You bend over and trace a claw under her chin as she did to you when you first met.

“I can feel my worms dying from your heat, but you can’t scream, can you? Can you even breathe? Tick tock, Firebird.”

You catch on fire.

Well, there it is, all that blinding pain, making every nerve an agony, every worm withering.

You fall off, burning, and Firebird turns to you. You’re rewarded with the sight of worms in her face before they blacken and crumble, turning to ash. 

Clothes and flesh, you’re doing the same. How haven’t you passed out. You’re burning away, skin and fabric and works all slowly turning to black and gray ash, piece by piece. A hand. Your legs. Your horns. 

“Don’t kill them!”

Bit late, Karina. Idiot child. Should’ve helped the ship trolls. 

The other victim on the floor looks at you in horror and sympathy alike.

“If I spare them, you will not question me again.”

“Yes!”

“They will obey.”

“I’ll make them!”

“They will witness this, and remember they cannot challenge me and win.”

You watch yourself burn away, half of your body gone to the excruciating flames, and finally Firebird releases you to sweet unconsciousness.

[snkpolls]

SnK S3E09 Poll Results (Manga Reader Version)

The poll closed with 494 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that this is the results of the manga reader poll. Anime only watchers are suggested not to read if you do not wish to be spoiled about certain events! Anime only viewers, click here to view your poll results!

RATE THE EPISODE 486 Responses

Nearly adapted completely verbatim from the manga, overall the episode ranking was very positive this week, with no votes for it being awful. Seems each week keeps getting better and better!

All in all, brilliant episode. 10/10 would watch again, despite giant exploding guts.

It was great, especially what they did with Rod Reiss 120 meters Titan. I feel this was executed better than the manga. Hopefully, WIT Studio continues this way with season 3 and the next seasons of Attack on Titan.

Best episode of the season so far in my opinion! Was about to have a heart attack towards the end tho when I thought they flew over the flashback:(

In my opinion it was the best episode of the season. The animation rivaled levi vs kenny from the first two episodes

Amazing! My fav episode so far. Can't see anything bad this episode, except for that cliffhanger.... RIP Kenny

The animation was like Titan steam, cause it blew my away

Incredible devotion to detail. Best looking episode so far!

This season honestly just keeps getting better and better. The first few eps were a little shocking with the rearrangements and pacing changes, but now I'm back to being a WIT stan.

Easily one of the top 8 episodes of the entire series for me, so far.

HOW ABOUT THAT BARRICADES ORCHESTRAL REARRANGE? 480 Responses

Overall the fandom was positively hyped hearing that new arrangements of Barricades in the background. Now we’re all just asking, “where is the damn ost!?”

I NEED THE OST IN MY POSSESSION AS SOON AS POSSIBLE PLEASE OH MY GOD.   The Barricades remix was incredible?!?!?!?!!?!?

Really good music

the soundtracks were amazing man

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WERE YOUR FAVORITE OVERALL SCENES? 486 Responses

Overall, most voters were stoked to see Rod’s face reveal more than anything. Following closely after that is Historia declaring herself the ruler of the walls, Levi finding Kenny by the collapsed cave and the Survey Corps taking out Rod.

YAASSS! Historia just named herself queen! I loved that part!

One little niggling thing for me is that scene where Eren watches Mikasa lift barrels effortlessly. I liked how the focus on her strength was made obvious by showing a brief glimpse of episode 1 -the time Mikasa was NOT strong enough. It made my heart weep man.

GOD I LOVE THE REISS TITAN. SEEING IT ANIMATED WAS SO FUCKING SICK.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WERE YOUR FAVORITE MC CHARACTER INTERACTIONS? 483 Responses

Eren accidentally inferring that Levi is a tiny, old man was voted most enjoyable scene of the episode, followed closely by Levi regrettably telling Kenny that he’s done for. Historia being firm about her stance with Erwin was another highly voted scene, along with Eren putting his game face back on.

I really liked Historia's characterization in this episode. It was nice to see her standing her ground in front of Erwin and the scene where she defeats her father was the episode's highlight for me.

HOW COOL WAS IT TO SEE THE POV OF A MINDLESS TITAN? 485 Responses

Overall, respondents were pretty stoked to see how a pure titan senses other humans.

YOUR REACTION TO ROD’S TITAN’S FACE REVEAL? 484 Responses

44% of respondents agree that the animation of Rod’s gruesome face was simply “awesome!” 25% were disgusted and 21% saw nothing but nightmare fuel. Ultimately we can all agree WIT really did a good job on this one!

ADORE

It set my gag reflex off like crazy, that shit was so disgusting! IMAGINE THE SMELL.

Finally! Gruesome details like that are an important part of the SnK universe and shouldn't be left out.

I'm glad WIT finally had the guts to go all out with Rod's titan form. It was definitely needed.

As Zackly would say: beautiful

I love that kind of macabre things but holy cannoli, I flinched so hard after seeing it. BIG KUDOS to the guys who animated this, it was a disgusting perfection.

Awesome disgusting & horrifying

If I were one of the soldiers I would've just shit my pants right there

Horrifyingly awesome! Awesomely horrifying?! THERE WAS BOTH RECOIL AND DELIGHT.

Wow it was awesome! It was so good to see first his eyes and then how devastated his face was. He had holes for eyes and the blood was like tears which fits with what Ymir said about mindless titans - that is incredible suffering.

It was absolutely disgusting and everything I was hoping for! Amazing!

Seriously don't get why it has to be so gross

I loved Rod’s Titan. It’s the stuff of nightmares.

Oh cool! Oh god.

WHO DREW IT BETTER - ISAYAMA OR WIT? 484 Responses

While Isayama drew Levi’s wanted poster better in the eyes of the fandom, WIT won the vote for Erwin’s talented left-handed drawing of Rod. We all thought it was beautiful either way!

Erwin actually draws better than me AND I WENT TO DRAWING CLASS FFS

WHOSE GRAVE DO YOU THINK EREN WAS VISITING? 481 Responses

Over half of respondents believe that Eren was visiting Hannes’ grave sometime between the events of Clash and Uprising arcs. 28% believe he was paying respects to a member of the original Levi Squad, while 25% believe it wasn’t anyone notable. Some write in answers had creative ideas:

A brat, I hope he's dead

His hopes and dreams

Can’t be Hannes or Squad Levi because they haven’t had time since the expedition for funerals. I think it’s Marco’s and the funeral was for the Battle of Trost.

I think it was an unnamed soldier's grave, but I was really hoping for it to be Hannes'

No idea, maybe a random soldier from Trost? When they're in titan territory how can they even stop to pick up what's left of bodies? I know they did after they escaped Annie but I never bought it much.

Mine, for this episode has killed me dead

Carla's empty grave.

Marco or some of his other comrades

HOW MUCH DO YOU RELATE TO EREN PUNCHING HIMSELF? 483 Responses

Half of respondents feel like Eren punching himself is a big and relatable mood (or perhaps, some of you relate to wanting to punch him?). 33% sometimes feel this way while 16% apparently never get this frustrated with themselves.

Didn't really like the Eren punching himself bit but he did kinda need it.

i wANT TO HUG MY DEPRESSED SON :(

HOW DID YOU LIKE THOSE THROWBACK FLASHBACKS FROM SEASON 1? 484 Responses

44% of respondents have appreciated seeing the nostalgic look of Season 1 peppered in with the current animation. 27% think that it’s pretty surreal to see the differences put together, and 22% didn’t really care or notice either way.

It was great to remind us about times when everything seemed so simple...

All those flashbacks annoyed me to be honest.

I thought that they should have reanimated it at first, but then I realized it would require more work which takes too much time

It’s so cool to see how much the animation has improved

I miss season 1 character designs

Im crying, missing my thicc lines

WOULD YOU ACCEPT HISTORIA AS YOUR RULER? 485 Responses

The majority of voters would be thrilled to bow down to Historia and accept her rule. 22% wouldn’t mind, while a smaller percentage would rather nope out of that situation.

Historia can rule me anytime, anywhere ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Hisu could knock the shit out of me and I'd be thankful, honestly

Historia is bae

If anyone insults Historia i hope Rods titan guts fall on their head.

ROD IS A TINY OLD MAN. IS LEVI A TINY OLD MAN TOO? 483 Responses

41% of voters used this question to pay respects to Eren - who most definitely was shook by the realization that he used the words “tiny” and “old” in front of Levi. No respondents agree that Levi is old but everyone can agree that Levi is tiny.

Tiny old man is bestboi

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE ADDED MOMENT WHERE EREN GAINS CONFIDENCE IN HIMSELF AGAIN? 479 Responses

Over half of voters believed the added scene was a good way to show Eren getting back on his feet after his meltdown. 14% agree that it got them hyped up for what’s coming. 10%, however, believe that the moment canceled out his previous behavior and didn’t make a lot of sense.

I liked it and he looked great but it did seem out of nowhere that he got he confidence back so quickly.

Huh? That was added?

It was awesome. I liked that part as it showed Eren's natural self and weaker state. He was relatable.

It felt out of place? Like it came out of nowhere.

Objectively, it was a great step in his character development. I just don't care about him, that's all.

I felt like he didnt really have to gain confidence to do his part, it was very shounen-like but I guess its ok

I wish my crises of confidence were that short

It negated his previous (and/or future) behaviour imo but DAMN SON HE‘S HANDSOME. RIP IN PEPPERONI MY OVARIES.

It's a little bit of hope that'll be crushed in the next arc.

makes me wonder how they’ll change (if at all) his ‘i’m not special, just the son of a special man’ moment later on with keith

WE FINALLY GOT TO SEE HOW TITANS SEEK OUT HUMANS WITH THEIR “6TH SENSE”! HEAT SENSORY! ARE YOU GLAD THAT ISAYAMA FINALLY ANSWERED OUR QUESTION WITH THIS EPISODE? 481 Responses

43% of voters appreciated the added detail, while ⅓ of voters were excited to finally have this sensory detail shown to us! A small percentage were unimpressed.

I think it's not heat, but actual human sensory.

But surly that would attract them to animals and so heat sensory can't be the ENTIRE process of detecting humans.

H E A T P A T H S

I'm pretty sure titan vision was 'souls' seen with PATHS and not heat detection or else titan would eat animals, at least that's what I thought when watching that scene

That still doesn't answer how and why titans differentiate between humans and other living things.

I knew it, but one question. Why do they need eyes if they got a sixth sense? Is the 6th sense an insurance if their eyes failed them? The 6th sense could be the work of PATHs lol...nah most likely heat detection.

P A T H S

We don’t know if it was heat sensory, but it was good.

DID THE RISE OF QUEEN HISTORIA MEET YOUR EXPECTATIONS? 482 Responses

Nearly half of respondents got what they expected overall, while about 40% had their expectations exceeded. Just under 10% of voters weren’t very impressed with the way it was adapted. Overall, the love for Historia is very real.

Game of thrones "Mhysa" soundtrack just kept playing in my head when she proclaimed herself as the queen to the citizens. It was REALLY well done, I loved every minute of her scenes

Underwhelmed is a strong word. I think the scene in the manga was stronger, but the anime was still pretty good. The battle was absolutely great, I just feel her final declaration carried a bit more panache in the manga.

It was very okay

Historia really rocked. She is the true badass of this arc.

I was expecting a little more intense music, but yeah, that was fine the way they did it though.

Not a fan of the moment in the Manga, it felt shoehorned imo. Masterful adaptation, however

This is on me because the scene was done great but I wasn't as hyped as I thought I'd be which upset me because I've been waiting to see this for years.

THE SEIYUUS FOR ZEKE, REINER AND BERTOLT WERE REVEALED TO  BE IN THE NEXT EPISODE. HOW HYPED ARE YOU TO SEE THEM? 483 Responses

The vast majority of the fandom are excited to see Reiner and Bertolt come back to the screen along with their warchief, Zeke!

Gimme that warriors next episode!

I can't wait for next episode to see my babies Reiner and Berutoto ;__; Miss them

I love Pieck and hope she shows up next wieck.

I want Zeke already

ACKERDUO PARALLELS! HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT THEM SLICING AND DICING UP ROD’S GLAZED HAM TITAN IN UNISON? 481 Responses

The majority of voters were hyped to see Mikasa and Levi slicing up flesh. 23% were just happy for any parallels given some of the other things that were cut or minced up this season. A smaller percentage didn’t really care.

Ackerbrilliant!!

It amuses me how Ackermanns to Isayama are a different race of humans haha.

Ackerduo? More like Ackerdivas.

The Ackermans are such an eye-candy

Always a pleasure to see them in action 👌💯

imagine being that chill freefalling through the sky

as expected of Mikasa, don't care about Levi

I only care about Levi

HOW MANY OF YOU HAD HEART ATTACKS WHEN YOU THOUGHT KENNY’S FLASHBACKS WERE ONLY GOING TO HAPPEN IN A SPAN OF 10 SECONDS? 473 Responses

The vast majority of respondents were fooled for a few moments while watching the episode this week, worried that Levi and Kenny’s entire backstory got shoved into just a few moments. The preview eased our worries quickly enough though, thankfully! Many commenters weren’t fooled for a second, though:

I knew it was just a teaser for  next episode, not worried at all

Eh, I wasn't fooled by that, just a little confused. Nice addition to the scene though!

I wasn't ready for it to be in this episode! And yeah I began to panick like "they're not going to show us just that, right??" Still, I'm not ready to see the whole flashback thing next episode... 😭😭

I expected the flashbacks the next episode because of the episode titles.

I had a feeling that they were going to dedicate an episode or at least part of an episode to Kenny's flashbacks

I knew there was no way they'd do that, the thought never crossed my mind

I was more interested in seeing how they'd play out other important parts from them. They chose some great highlights to have people wondering what the deal with Kenny's past is while also making the transition into the full flashback feel less abrupt than in the manga, where I felt I had missed a chapter in between at first.

That thought never actually occurred to me. Pretty obvious that it was set-up for the next episode.

There's been too many heart-attack moments already. I've been reduced to a fandom grandma who sips her tea and says "Don't get your knickers in a twist, wait for it...

HOW DO YOU THINK THE STORY WOULD HAVE CHANGED IF EREN HAD BEEN EATEN IN THE CAVE? 206 Responses

You guys had some pretty interesting responses! Most people agree the story would have been effectively over and Paradis wiped out. We can't publish all of the responses, but here were some which stood out (or made us laugh):

Drastically! The people of Paradis would have their minds wiped, except for Mikasa and Levi. Historia would become a slave to the First King's "hide behind the walls" ideology. The SC would be disbanded and Erwin executed. So the whole island would be doomed when Marley invade again, and take Historia with the Founding Titan power away.

Pieck kills everyone

All the walldians would have died since there would be no way for the Survey Corps to take the Founding Titan and Attack Titan back from Historia or Rod Reiss and when the marleyans would have inevitably attacked, the walldians would have been erased from the face of the earth. Perhaps by an atomic bomb.

Levi for main protagonist!

Historia would have been controlled by the will of the First King and mind-wiped everyone. But not all things are lost. Levi and Mikasa would still be there, having all of their memories intact. Kenny and his squad would also still be alive, but Kenny would still not have much to live for anymore. Mikasa and Historia would have had a huge confrontation, with Mikasa almost killing Historia for eating Eren, but in the end, she can't bring over herself to kill her because Eren is ""alive"" within Historia now. Mikasa's liege to Eren will be slowly turning into a desire to protect Historia at all cost.

Erwin will be alive / Kenny will be alive / Berth will be alive / Sasha will be alive / Marlow will be alive / Moblit will be alive / Hanji will have their left eye / Zackly will be down with his shit machine

That's actually a great idea. Knowing where the author decided to take the plot, it wouldn't have worked, of course, but I would've loved to see the rest of the 104th taking over the story after Eren's death.

No future manbun eren :(

Historia might have more controll over the ability, If she becomes queen then the scouts will lose their hope for humanity. Mikasa will most likely be.... A little upset... Overall this question is difficult to answer because it creates a Senario with multiple different senarios within it. For example will historia become queen or remain in the scouts? It's just too difficult because of the different potential timelines created from this alternate event.

Zeke upon landing on Paradis: Where's Ereh?

I have never thought about that tbh. I guess we'd have no story at all, since the cycle of Titan inheritance would have not been broken and life would go back to as it was before the "story" started. Though Maria knows what Isayama had prepared for us in the upcoming manga chapters

they wouldve sold his organs on the black market

Oh wow, I never really thought of that. If Rod ate him then the story would probably end then and there because of the memory wipe (but a rebellion led by the Ackermans?? The possibilities are endless!). If Historia ate him then *maybe* she wouldn't do the memory wipe. It's interesting to speculate. The fate of the Survey Corps would come into question and that would become the focus of the story.

yea im not gonna write an alternate fanfiction for you

WHAT SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 483 Responses

34% of voters are most looking forward to Levi and Kenny’s final heartbreaking exchange. 26% are excited to see Kenny’s backstory and his friendship with Uri unfold. 20% specifically are looking forward to Kenny and Uri’s first meeting. Where’s baby Levi!?

I'm not ready for Kenny's flashbacks next episode!! We're going to see small Levi and Kuchel and... I'm already crying 😭😭

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH URIKEN MY FRAGILE GAY HEART WILL NOT SURVIVE THE NEXT EPISIDE ASDFGHJKLZXCVBNM

I want the WHOLE backstory of Kenny taking care of Levi IMMEDIATELY!!!

NEXT EPISODE MY MAN WILL DIE!! I CAN’T DO THISSSSS

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

Beautiful animation, but I hope the next ep fills me with feels. I feel incredibly lackluster about Historia and her characterization this arc.

I always wondered in the manga how titan Rod didn't splatter his intestines on the Walls even without a skin. Like, it felt all too much clean, so anime made sense and a bit of splatter never hurt nobody! But with that scene, why WIT censors things like Levi killing humans??? They quite contradict themselves lol

Storyboards were handled by the man who storyboarded End of Eva and the Rebuilds, huh? Certainly paid off. I don't think his input was limited to storyboarding either, while easy to miss the first time around, Rod's agonized scream as he dies after Historia sees his memories is pretty disturbing and haunting. Very good stuff.

I'm sure that a lot of people will write about the battle against the Rod's titan and about Historia, so I will skip it. I have really nothing to add here except the fact that I really loved how strong, brave and mature Historia was in this episode.

Historia taking down her father gave me so many feels! I can't wait to see her get crowned and then punch Levi, he had such a heartwarming smile!

Historia is sooo fucking badass. I love Eren so much God bless his soul.

Erwin looked fucking great this episode.

Something about the anime didn't quite hit the mark, particularly in regards to the scene of Eren noticing the 3 kids and Armin giving him the pep talk. It's practically panel for panel, but the feel was just different somehow.

IT WAS A-MAZING! WE GOT THE SCENE WITH EREN INSULTING LEVI BY ACCIDENT (tho I was a bit disappointed that Levi didnt look as pissed as in the manga), WE GOT REALLY CREEPY UGLY ROD TITAN FACE, WE GOT KENNY AND LEVI MEETING, A SUPER COOL SEQUENCE OF EREN RUNNING TO GIVE ROD TITAN EXPLOSIVE CANDY, ARMIN WAS THERE, HISTORIA LOOKED COOL, ERWIN'S BLESSED ART SKILLS, IT HAD SO MANY GOOD STUFF

This episode was perfect in every way, except for Rod Reiss' giant fucking stomach just squelching onto the wall- yech!!! For a series with man eating monsters as its premise, nothing has ever made me feel as horrifyingly disgusted as that scene did. *shudder*

Seeing the serum bowl in the episode gave me chills OH MY GOOOOD I'M NOT MENTALLY READY FOR WHAT IS COMING

Historia was so good in this ep and the animation for the rod reiss titan was KILLER. WIT outdid themselves with that adaptation

RETURN TO SHIGANSHINA IS SO CLOSE I CAN ALMOST TASTE IT. I'VE SUFFERED THROUGH THIS ARC, NOW GIVE IT TO ME WIT. GIVE ME MY CHILDREN.

No additional thoughts but thanks for making this survey every week :p

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 430 Responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated! We’ll see you again on Tuesday! 

[clove-teasdale]

just like old times

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

A/N: challenge #2! THERE ARE LIKE TWO FIC RPS THAT TAKE PLACE BEFORE THIS AND I HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO WRITE RIP--but hey, you can enjoy my vagueness in this fic for now. Will do my best to post the max rp and the brooks rp (that is gonna take away vagueness) as soon as i can. this is first date with @nathaniel-schreave thanks as always claire~ i finished this like in the past couple hours lol so sorry if there is any mistakes or weird stuff. over 2k.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

I clicked relentlessly on my pen as my eyes read over the journal Brooks had given me two days ago. 

The general text explained the Selection process in more detail than what I’d ever spared my time to know, going over the history of the idea--the how it’d come to be and why it was good--according to the official records. The text was littered with scribbles Brooks had no way of reading, however, and after our...paths crossed on the third floor, we reached an agreement on what to do with it.

35 girls. The competition of a lifetime. 

“LOGS.” 

A shout alongside knocking. It was so abrupt I accidentally dropped the journal and my pen clattered on the desk as it slipped right after. I looked at the door as the knocking stopped and scattered to pick up the journal, hiding it under my bedsheets and rushing to the door.

My hand went over my hair to fix it quickly as I opened and found Nate in front of me. I spared my room a glance to look at the time on the clock and noticed it was already time for our date. As soon as I’d been ready for it earlier my sight had been stuck to that journal. “Huh, that hour went by fast..” I looked back at him with a curtsy, gesturing for him to come in and dramatically adding, “Your Highness, a pleasure to see you again.” “And you too, what were you doing?” He asked, walking in and assessing the room. There wasn’t much to look at. I hadn’t added much. The only difference I’d made in the room was adding a box full of books and notes in my closet.

“I was reading. You made me drop my book with that yelling of yours.” I shook my head to feign disappointment. “So improper really.” “I didn’t yell.” “I heard you over my earphones.” He rolled his eyes. “Are you ready for your date?” I fixed my skirt before nodding back at him. “What's the plan?” “Just something you should be used to doing,” he smirked, making me narrow my eyes, but smirk back nonetheless. “Hmm, really? Is it something you’re used to doing or only me?” Nate wobbled his head, debating the answer. “Mostly you, but me if I felt like it.” “And do you feel like it?”

“I meant more for when I was 10.” Wait... I blinked, hesitantly mumbling, “uh... playing with Logs?” He only grinned. I rolled my eyes before nudging him with my elbow and half glaring. “Nate, just tell me already!” “Just come on.” He held his arm out.

I stared at it for a moment then hooked my arm to his. “Why are you always so mysterious now?”

He smiled. “Because I can.”

“Here you go,” he said, opening a door to what I recognized as our old playroom. It just seemed like a sitting area now, but there were a few random toys in the middle of the room.

I raised an eyebrow at the toy cars and wooden houses as we went in. “What are we doing here?” “We're going to play with logs and hot wheels,” he smirked as I laughed. “Oh, is that so?” “Just like old times.”

I settled down on the carpet, covering my legs with the peach colored chiffon of my dress, a hand reaching for a log to examine. “How was I ever entertained by this?”

He sat down too and shrugged. “I don’t know. I always preferred cars.” At that I chuckled, reaching for a car instead and pushing it so it could roll on the floor. “Still. We spent too much time with pieces of plastic.”

“Are you disappointed in this?”

I looked at him slightly surprised by the concerned tone there seemed to be behind the question. Was I being rude? “What? No, of course not… I-... I didn't mean to make it sound like that.” I glanced at the car again. “I just meant it seems weird to think such simple things were a sea of possibilities once upon a time.” “Children have the best imagination.”

I smiled proudly. “Well, I like to think I’ve kept my amazing imagination.” “Did you?” His eyebrows rose as I picked up a car. I squinted at it in silence for a while, trying to come up with something, knowing the date would be no fun otherwise. I probably wouldn’t be able to sit around playing with a plastic box for more than two minutes even if it had wheels attached to it. There needed to be something else... A grin spread across my face as an idea formed. “How many of these do you think we can take to the roof?” Nate appeared puzzled by such a suggestion and asked why the roof. I simply pointed out he asked for me to be creative. He didn’t seem too hopeful. “You aren’t being creative you are just going to a new location, but if you want to we can.” I scoffed. “Such little faith? I haven’t explained why the roof.”

I stood near the edge of the roof, my eyes focused on the horizon where the gardens ended and a city began. The bag with a few logs on toy cars dangled over my shoulder as I took in a breath of fresh air. I’d learned to appreciate roofs in middle school, wanting to leave the house after curfew but being unable to. I realized how quiet and peaceful they could be that night and, eventually, curfew didn’t stop me from venturing to different areas of the city filled with higher abandoned buildings.

The sky always spread over a roof for eyes to admire endlessly. It was a sight photography and art could only wish to capture. Almost never to be the same. “Looks nice, right?” It was a mumble, but I half registered Nate replying some sort of agreement back before I snapped out of my thoughts. “Well then, let’s begin.”

Taking out logs from the bag, I placed them on the railing that rose to our waists. I kept it going as the edge reached a corner and marked the start of a different wall, not stopping until I’d reached past another corner, ending on the wall across from the one I’d started in.

Nate mostly entertained himself with rolling a car back and forth on the railing as he waited. “What are you trying to do?”

I placed the last log and pointed at it. “These will be our stop posts.” After taking a car for myself out of the bag I stated, “We’re having extreme racing obviously.” “Oh, obviously.” “If your car falls you have to start over from the last log you passed. First one to get to the last log wins.” He let his sight wander over the edge, a playful look in his eyes. “Let's hope it doesn’t hit a guard.”

“I think they’ll be safe.” I gestured for him to take a spot on the makeshift road. “Royals first.” He didn’t even wait for a signal to start and zoomed his car down the track, making fake car sounds. Okay, fine. That’s a bit adorable. I watched him for a second before laughing, then grabbed my car and rushed over to him, trying to push his car off the ledge as soon as I caught up. Nate screamed in protest at my attempts. “No, no, no!”

I chuckled again, going after him as he picked up his pace. “I won’t let you win!” “Oh?” He spared me a glance over his shoulder, eyes defying me as he started running, making more sounds.

Reaching him again, I picked up my pace to stay on his heels, waiting for the right moment. On my first opening, I let go of the car to go quickly under his arm, snatching my car right back a second later and outrunning him. He muttered, “Uh no,” and sped up. But instead of doing an elaborate stunt like mine, he picked up his car and ran around me, placing the car ahead of mine. 

“Hey, that’s not fair! We don’t have flying cars!” He yelled back, “Use your freaking imagination.” I narrowed my eyes at his back but took his advice, running off to the other side of the roof where the finishing log was, making my car move as if it were a plane. I probably looked ridiculous, but none of what we were doing was sane-teenager behavior.

“And the prize goes to me with my turbo space car!” I announced, smirking in his direction. “How about that?”

He stopped, placing a hand on his hip, annoyed. “Okay, that’s just cheating. You are no fun.” “You said imagination. You can’t break the rules if you don’t expect them to be completely shoved aside.” “That made no sense.” “You make no sense.” “You full on just cheated. I can’t go under your arm. I’m too big. You full-on ran to the other side of the roof - cheater…” I scoffed to hold back a laugh. This argument was pointless. “Now that’s just rude. You think that was an easy move? You broke the rules first.” “I did not. You did.”

What a mature comeback, Nate. “No, you were the one who brought in imagination. I told you I still got a lot of it.” “That’s not imagination though, that’s cheating. You are a cheater.” I fake pouted, strolling the car on the edge. “Well, that wasn’t the intention.” When he leaned against a wall without a word I stopped my car. “What?” He gave no reply for a moment, standing in silence and looking away. I was starting to find it weird when he smirked back at me. “How’s Brooks?” I squinted at him with a huff. “What kind of question is that?” “You know exactly what I’m asking.” Everyone assumes I’m a mind reader nowadays. I’m not that good. I raised an eyebrow, leaning on the railing. “He’s your brother, not mine. I don’t see how I should know how he’s doing.” I watched him warily, still not getting what he meant. “He’s still annoying if that’s your question.” “You see him more than me.” That got me laughing, but I paused when he didn’t join me. “Wait, you’re serious?” He nodded.

I ran a mental count of encounters with both. I’d had the interview with Nate, then the hallway meetup and lastly the date. As for Brooks, I’d stumbled upon him on my second day--in the library--then on the third floor earlier in the week, and the morning after, when he decided to act like he was a child… that same night I’d also given him some notes I’d gathered from the journal when he went to my room as we agreed. Nothing too eventful.

“I’ve bumped into him a few times…” I shrugged. “You’re more of a busy guy yourself.” I paused, realizing I still had no idea why he was making the question. Grinning, I teased, “Does it bother you?” “Not really, I get that I’m busy all the time. I wish I could see more of the girls.” “How's that going for you?” “I think good,” his curiosity crawled up, “do they talk about me?” I laughed a bit and focused on the gardens. “I guess so…” I wasn’t really sure and that was partially my fault. I bit my lip. “I haven't really talked to that many girls...you've been brought up casually though. And they probably talk in the women's room too I'm just usually wearing headphones.” “You don’t talk to them?”

I hadn’t thought it was that weird, but he clearly did. I made my elbow rest on the railway then, fidgeting with the car in my hand. “Not exactly... I just haven't talked to many of them. I'm probably not as easy going as I once was.” “That’s okay, have you become friends with any of them?” “‘Friend’ seems like a heavy word after such little time…” I’d seen friendships that had lasted years crumble easily. I’d only been with the other girls a couple of weeks at most. “But I think we’re getting there. I’ve mostly talked with Eloise since we’re across from each other at breakfast and in the same hall and it’s been…pretty good so far.”

“That’s good that you are talking to others.” “Some say it’s good to have friends in this kind of thing so...yeah. And I mean, I can talk to others—and if they approached me I’d be polite, I just-... don’t always approach people first now.” We talked a little about how his other dates had gone. Apparently, some had been more awkward than others. A couple a lot better than others. But all around, pretty decent. I dared to ask how he thought ours was going and he took a second to consider it.

“I’m thinking okay. What do you think?” One of his eyebrows rose with intrigue.

“Old habits die hard,” I chuckled slightly, raising my car in the air as if it were a good cup of wine. I considered my answer as well as I watched the wheels on the car spin and replied, “It’s been pretty good in my opinion.” He agreed with a smile until I asked, “Even if you think I’m a cheater?” At that, he rolled his eyes.

“You still are.” “Next time pick your words more wisely,” I snickered. “This is a competitive game.” “Whatever.” “Want a rematch then?”

He pointed at me in warning. “No cheating.” “You're a sore loser.” I rushed over to the starting point and bent my knees slightly, placing the car in our makeshift track and focusing on it. In a teasing voice, I added, “The prince can't take the heat anymore.” He placed his car down too and ran off.

“Hey!” I yelled. “Who’s the cheater now?” “You were ready.” I clicked my tongue. “In a race, you’re supposed to start at the same time.” He walked back like a resigned child and placed the car back in place, sparing me a glance. Just like old times. I bent my knees, getting ready.

Eagerness flashed in his eyes. “Go!”

[namjoonchronicles]

Talking to the Moon - [EXO] Baekhyun!Au

[A/N] Hmm. I don’t think the gif fits but I like it, so. has anyone ever been in a mascot.

Busy, busy day indeed. But this week was okay compared to last week because at least you didn't have to skip lunch. You looked up ahead where the pavements and pedestrians flocked. Except by a fried chicken shop that has a mascot dancing in front of it. "He really loves his job." You twitched a smile, because for someone who has that kind of energy, his dancing was a little too grandpa-like. He had a loose hips and stiff legs, a flailing pair of arms and an odd dance steps that's all over the place.

"If it isn't the 8,000 Won per set fried chicken shop." You crossed your arms over your chest and marched ahead. The mascot, the chicken human-sized costume noticed you when you stood right in front of him. "You're not handling out fliers today?" You asked. The chicken shook his head. "I guess you can be confused as to why I keep taking your fliers when I don't even stop by and eat." You smiled at it, not knowing who was inside made you feel at ease. It's the sense of trust you seem to put on this person without much question just because whenever you approached them, they bring that odd feeling of comfort.

Or maybe, you just trust your heart too much.

For someone who rarely take anything to heart (in efforts to convince yourself that you don't have any), you chose to listen to your heart when it comes to this mascot. It's embarrassing to speak of your daily problems with your peers because then, they'll know you weakness and probably try to pry you off of your promotion any way they can. It happened once, it can happen again. Besides, what can a person in a chicken costume do? Show up at work and dance? But this time, it wasn't about work.

It was about a blind date.

You looked behind the huge costume and looked for a middle-aged lady in track suits from where you stood. The chicken turned around too. "Your boss isn't here, can we talk? You can take off the head but, I'll feel better if you won't." You took the wrist and took the chicken human to sit on the curb at the side, it was a bit darker there, but less noise and people. And the chicken won't be caught lazying if it can't be seen. "I have a blind date today..." You drifted, trailing your eyes up the flickering street light until it steadies, "...supposed to."

"He's the son of a small business owner in my hometown just a few blocks away. But he stood me up. He never showed up in the restaurant he said he'll be in. And it just, you know... lowers my confident as a girl." Your voice softens, as it should. Your feelings were hurt, your image were scarred, and remembering the faces in that restaurant was adding insult to the injury. It was as if the whole world was against you and your quest of happiness. Although you're just talking to a chicken human, you wanted to say everything you feel, for once. "It's not like I don't have good friends, I do...but they would judge before I even get to finish. They'll say I'm pretty, I'm smart, I've got good heart but...when these things happen... what they sounds like a lie."

A tear dropped without you noticing. It fell on your wrist as you rest your hand on your kneecap. "I mean, how would they know how I feel because one is getting married, one is already engaged, the other is travelling the world. I don't feel pretty, I don't think I'm smart and I don't think I have a good heart because people with good heart wouldn't talk behind people like these. Pretty girls don't get stood up and smart nerds don't get rejected all the job vacancies available and had to work in a vendor's store just to get insulted with crude words by customers who think they own the world..." You burst in tears. The whole alley was filled with the sound of your tiny hiccups and hitches, your shoulders shaking and all chicken mascot could do was pat your shoulder, sorrily.

Baekhyun put his phone on silence. He took her call once and that was it. "I'm not going to that blind date. If you want grandchildren so much, ask Baekbeom. I'm busy as it is, and I think it's rude for you to call me at this hour, persistently telling me to go to a dinner with a person I don't know and refused to know. I don't care how she looks like, if you want to marry so much, why don't you ask dad to marry her." He slammed his phone down, shove them in one locker. Quickly, he unbuttoned his suit and dress shirt, looking very angry. His brows frowning, and he took out his wallet and threw them in the locker as well.

"...Like if he wanted a younger step mom, I mean why not right? I'd do anything to get myself out of debt." You dried your tears with your sleeves. "I've wasted a very expensive dress for a guy who wouldn't even look at the picture I sent. And for your information, chicken," You dug out your phone, and sniffed while forcing out a smile, "...I took 253 shot of it and chose the one I was least ugly in. And he wouldn't even look at it. I felt like...trash." You brought it closer to its huge eyes and you could tell it was making an effort to look. "It must be really uncomfortable in there...ha? Have you eaten?" You asked, sounding like a mother. It nodded. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't keep you here. Go back to work. I'll take your flyers again tomorrow. And maybe by the end of this month, I'll make enough to buy something for you."

"Thank you for listening, when no one else would." You said and went on your way. The chicken waved and danced you goodbye. You giggled and spun around and went back home, just eleven blocks away. But then it started to rain. So you found shelter on the closest bus stop available, not far from the Fried Chicken Shop. The chicken walked in, into the storage room when the boss came back and asked to clean up. He took the head off and took his phone from his locker, scrolls down his mother's message and the call log. He accidentally answered a call from an unsaved number, thinking it was his mother. He left the chicken head and start raining into the rain. The boss was yelling, asking him if he had gone mad or something, but he didn't care, his eyes shot ahead where the bus stop were, but you were gone.

"You have the brightest smile, you never failed to smile at me even when I'm in costume. You knew how to use a coupon, and that's not something to scowl upon. You never once deny any of my fliers even I kept giving you the same one." Scrapes of memories played in the back of his head, a montage of playbacks of you and him.

"You're very pretty, you're very smart and you're very kind." He whispered, looking at the spot where you once sat. "And I'm sorry."

Maybe he shouldn't have shut you out immediately. It didn't cost him anything to just come, and talk. It didn't cost him anything to have clicked the picture his mother sent. If only he was a bit patient. If only he was a bit polite. Maybe he wouldn't lose you. Maybe he wouldn't lose you to the guy that's holding an umbrella up for you at that bus station right now. Maybe, just maybe, he'd had his happy ending.

[A/N] Of course, Chanyeol is the one holding the umbrella like duhh...At least in my imagination, it was. Hbu?