#though the fact the riots happened at all is still terrifying

[windcarvedlyre]

Having a rare moment of pride about (some of) my country right now. Since last weekend England (and also Belfast) has been going insane with racist and islamophobic rioting, and another explosion of disorder was expected last night, but instead cities were flooded with counter-protestors forming shields around potential targets and barely any rioters showed up almost everywhere.

Rare british W.

[carlsangel]

TERRIFIED

carl grimes x reader

(carl comforts you during Terminus.)

tags: hurt to comfort, Terminus and mentions of The Claimers.

masterlist here!

During Terminus, you couldn’t remember a time when you felt more terrified than you were in that moment. You traveled long and far, originally you were from Woodbury. You remember being scared when you were told you’d have to move to the Prison, especially after your parents had left with the Governor one day and never returned.

You never got full answers, you heard they were attacked but not about what attacked them. You wondered about it everyday. But even in that moment, you don’t think we’re as scared as you were in the large crate marked with a big “A.” You hoped this place would be your savior, your new home.

On the walk to Terminus, you were nervous and for valid reason but Carl tried to make you feel better. He held your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it, occasionally squeezing when he noticed you breathing a bit deeper. He talked to you about a bunch of different things, a book he’d read, his old dog from before, he even asked you a ton of questions to distract you.

It worked, even though he probably was the one who needed comforting. Especially after your groups’ ordeal with the Claimers.

Right, the Claimers. The only other time you’ve been genuinely terrified.

You arrived to the wire fence surrounding Terminus. Rick asks Carl if he wanted to stick with him and he said no and he’d continue walking away with Michonne. You knew they would talk, he’s been pretty avoidant towards Michonne since that night with the Claimers. You went to walk in the opposite direction when Rick stopped you. “You’re with me.” He tells you, immediately getting to work on a dirt hole. You stood there awkwardly watching him when you realized you’d finally been alone with Rick, meaning you could gather details.

“What happened to my parents?” You inquired, not even minding the fact that it was a very blunt way to ask. It was your right to know. He looked up at you before continuing to shovel out some dirt. “We told you, they were attacked.” This made you roll your eyes. “You never told me what by. I know what kind of a world we live in, I’m not just gonna assume it was walkers.” You retort, Rick stops for a moment before you continue. “It was the Governor, wasn’t it?”

He remains still for a moment, eventually nodding while still looking at the floor. “He shot a lot of his people that day.” He explains, going back to digging the hole. Eventually the hole is big enough to stuff the duffle bag inside and he does so. He stands up and looks at you intently. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. I didn’t realize you’d be a larger part of our lives here.” He gestures to Carl, insinuating he was the reason your around. Which was entirely true.

“I just…don’t like secrets.” Rick nods and looks down at his hands as he wipes them off. “Well as long as you’re family…we won’t be keepin anythin from you.” He puts his hand on your shoulder like he tends to do to Carl. He smiles at you, and you return one as well. He goes back to the ground to cover up the bag and you walk to find Carl and Michonne. You notice they’re having a moment and you smile a little. You’re called back over as it was time to actually enter Terminus.

You enter the large factory building, noticing a woman repeating the same sentence over and over into a microphone(?) . Eventually you reveal yourselves and you’re lined up to be patted down. You’re led through what you thought would be your new home and you and Carl were both offered some food. You held the plate in your hands, looking at it curiously wondering what kind of meat it was, you wanted to assume it was venison.

Before you could ask, Rick had suddenly had a man in a headlock, causing you to drop the plate and arming yourself with the gun in your holster. You looked around and noticed everything that was familiar, the poncho, the bag, the riot gear. It was all a trap and you all fell for it. Surely you’d make it out alive, right? You always did.

Shots were fired and you started running. There were no thoughts going through your head other than escape. You’d recklessly shot at a man standing on a roof, somehow you’d actually hit him. His leg gave out and you could see him fall off the roof before Rick pulled you in the direction where you needed to run.

It felt like they were hunting you like animals. Upon running you’d see what looked like cages filled with human bones and blood all over the floors. You passed tons of crates with people screaming from the inside and you realized that would soon be you if you didn’t keep running. You were then cornered. Forced to drop your weapons, herded into the crate like, once again, like animals.

You were reunited with the people you saw as family. While that gave you a glimpse of hope, you still were still extremely worried. What would they do to you for shooting that man’s leg? You began to overthink when the group simultaneously decided that you would try to escape. You weren’t sure how to help, someone handed you a chunk of wood they’d cut off of the door with the pocket watch chain to shave down into a blade.

You looked over to Carl and he looked fine. How could he be acting so normal? Usually he had a front when in situations like this; he had one during the fall of the prison. What’s so different?

“What?” He noticed your staring. You shake it of and return to shaving down your wood against the ground. “It’s nothing.” You reply, your voice a tad shaky and he goes back to what he’s doing. You were warned that there were men arriving and you all began to prepare to storm through the large crate door. Then the roof opened.

Before you knew it you were huddled to the floor and you were extremely panicked, worried they’d take you first considering you shot one of their people. You felt someone grab you and you tried to resist. “It’s me, it’s me.” The person grabbing you was Carl, he took you to a corner to so you could catch your breath even with the smoke that flooded the room. He rubbed your back despite the fact that he was also coughing.

The room eventually aired out and you’d calmed down. You were now just sitting in the corner, your eyes still watery. Carl was checking up on everyone and you took a head count. They’d taken Bob, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. Rick. You just talked to him, he just welcomed you to the family. Now he’s probably gone. Tears begin to form in your eyes, and you begin to sob quietly. Carl notices and he returns back to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees.

“Hey we’re gonna make it out.” He reached his hand out to your face and he gently wipes away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear. You lift your hands up to cover your face while you sobbed and his heart begin to shatter into millions of pieces. “Cmon.” He pulled your wrists from your face and pulls your hands to his lips to place kisses on the both of them. “Just breathe okay?” He says softly, continuously kissing your hands to calm you down.

Your breath slows down and you nod. Your sobs had turned into small sniffles and you looked around to see if anyone was watching and they weren’t, thank god. “But y-your dad-” He immediately starts to shake his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s gonna handle it. I know it.” He squeezes your hand twice and looks at you intently. “You promise?” You ask, your voice still quivering. “You know I can’t.” He responds. You give him a small okay, understanding he could never really promise anything.

“Cmon.” He smiles and stands back up, sticking his hand out to you. As soon as you go to grab his hand, boom.

Maybe you would make it out.

a/n: everyone thank mama carol for saving everyone’s asses! i hope this was okay, it honestly didn’t take me too long to write so i’m happy about that. i tried to incorporate a new sort of storyline for the reader since i feel like i use the same shit every time LMAO okay bye love u

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[matthew-alexander]

survive | judas & matthew

with @judassamara​

They had agreed on a cafe in Dymock to meet and when Matthew turned up there after barely surviving his search, surviving Elio, he still had to run to warn the rebel leaders of what happened. The machine had been triggered and they could not shut it off because it had already begun to tear a hole in their reality. It was terrifying being one of the two left to witness it unfold and all Matthew could think of in that moment was Judas.

After he managed to get himself and Gloria out of the museum to tell as many people as he could of what transpired, save for the fact that the fallen deity Elio had been the cause of it, he ran to that cafe, but Judas was not there. Supernaturals and humans alike were fighting in the streets all around him and the vampire was not there. 

"Judas..." he said in a hushed, worried breath as his eyes darted around hoping to spot that familiar face. "Judas!" Matthew called out again. He had survived and kept his end of the promise they made together, but the vampire was not here. They were supposed to be here.

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

They had agreed to meet in a cafe in Dymock. When Mercy was helping him get out of the hospital, it was all he was thinking about, but when he got there, they waited and waited but Matthew didn't appear and they were starting to worry something had happened. The fighting of the riots grew louder until they couldn't ignore it, stepping back outside and into the crowd of people. It was easy to fall back into fighting, some of their strength having already returned in the time since the scuffle in the hospital.

Time passed without them even realising it and they stood back as the human they were fighting lied motionless on the ground. It was then that they swore they heard a familiar voice calling his name and they listened carefully to the endless cacophony of heartbeats until he heard it. Matthew. Immediately, everything else was forgotten as they turned and dashed straight back to the cafe. Spotting the fallen deity, he didn't bother slowing down until they were right there, picking him up in their arms.

"I'm right here, babe!" They let out a huge sigh of relief, beyond happy that Matthew was alive. There was a big smile on their face despite everything going on around them. "I've got you."

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

Matthew barely spotted Judas when the vampire came towards him with his vampiric speed and wrapped him in their arms, lifting him off his feet and into a tight hug. The wave of relief that washed over the fallen deity had him desperately clinging to the other as well, fingers of one hand tangling in the back of Judas' jacket while the other pushed through the short hairs at the back of his head. Anything to make sure that they were solid and real and here with him.

"Judas..." The vampire had survived just as he promised. They stayed holding each other until Matthew had to pull back, blinking away the wetness in his eyes from the sheer amount of emotions he was going through in that moment. He had come so close to dying not long before this and who knew what Judas had to go through as well, but they were both here again -- together.

"The world... The world is going to end, Judas. We couldn't stop the machine. Elio... He... We're going to die. You're going to die..." Matthew was babbling now, the stoic, put-together mask he wore on most days crumbled in the face of the other, at the thought of losing everything when they had just reunited. It was a far cry from the way he had told a few others the exact same news just before all this, but it was too much to bear now and this was Judas...

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

Holding onto him was worth the pain, the near death, the years of hiding and fear and anger and loneliness. Being with Matthew made every hardship over these last several decades worth it, just to feel his warmth and to hear his heartbeat and the way he said their name. They never let go of him, though when he started to speak, they slowly lowered him back down on his feet. One of their hands cupped his cheek, brushing the tears away from his eyes with their thumb.

They couldn't stop the machine. After everything, the world was still going to end. Slowly, they pulled Matthew in again, resting their forehead against his.

"You did everything you could. It's okay." If this was how the world was going to end, at least he had no regrets. They had told Matthew their feelings, they had been able to hold him and giving him all the love they had in their heart for him. "I'm not afraid of dying. I have everything I could ever want right here."

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

"But I don't want you to die..." Matthew whimpered, the tears still falling despite Judas' words of reassurance. He knew that they had done everything they could, but it still hurt to know that their world was going to come to an end, that this new thing that had developed between them was going to be short-lived. It was unfair after everything they had been through and yet Judas was being so forgiving.

The way their foreheads were pressed together was helping in grounding the fallen deity before his emotions threatened to send him spiralling further and he leaned in to press his lips to Judas' and those hushed words he promised to tell the other when they met again were almost whispered into the snatches of air between them.

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

"I don't want you to die, either," he replied, their voice soft and soothing, trying to ease Matthew's pain. They knew where it was coming from because they could feel that same pain, a burning ache in his stomach, a fear like a black hole that was threatening to consume him. They had only just gotten Matt and now the world was going to end and all they had was a few sweet words and an argument in a cleaning closet.

Judas returned the kiss easily, holding onto the most precious thing in their life like every moment was stolen because it was. He knew there was no way to say goodbye to him so they wouldn't. They wouldn't dare utter something so heartbreaking when they could instead be wrapped up in the love they had for him, giving him everything they'd been holding on to. When their lips parts briefly for air, they murmured a question between them. "Stay with me?"

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

Matthew was breathing heavily as their lips parted, his eyes fluttering open to look into much darker ones. His heart was still hurting for them, for the world, but at least he was still with Judas and hopefully would be when everything ended.

"Where else would I go, love?" he asked, chuckling lightly, cheeks heating slightly from the term of endearment he used and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. He did not want to move even an inch away from the vampire or from the safety of those arms around him. "Though we really should get away from here...”

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

The name was so sweet and they chuckled softly, nuzzling their nose against Matthew's. It sounded so good, and it felt even better.

"Yeah, we should. If we don't have much time left, I want to spend it holding onto you." Thankfully, he knew the demon could teleport them, though Judas would have gladly carried him somewhere too if he had to. So long as Matthew was there, they'd go anywhere. Then again, it had always been that way. "We can go back to the safe house. Nobody will bother us there."

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

"The safe house?" Matthew tilted his head. He knew of Judas' safe houses and that there was only one he had left. The same one the vampire had hidden him in after Park Sung Joon's assassination all those years ago. The same one where they had once again fallen into bed in the heat of the moment after that reunion. They had not returned to it for awhile but it somehow seemed apt to do so now.

The fallen deity lifted his hands from Judas and pulled away to open a portal to that space he knew well and he took Judas' hand to lead them through, making sure to close it behind them to stop anyone else from following. The noise of the riot and the rest of the world was silenced once the portal closed behind them, leaving them to their privacy and Matthew turned to look at Judas once more. "This is alright, right? That we're here while the rest of the world is..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

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

The safehouse, the only one left, had also been the first one, the best hidden and the one he'd gotten witches to help them protect. If all else failed, they had there to hide. They hated having to let go of Matthew, but their eyes never left him, watching as the portal opened and they were soon being whisked through it, the sound of the riots disappearing behind them.

"Matthew," he said softly, drawing his attention as they stepped closer, hands going to his hips. "There is nothing else we can do to help the world. I want to spend every second we have left right here with you." Judas brushed their noses together softly before kissing him, lips lingering against his. "So long as you want to be here with me..."

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

Matthew turned blue eyes up at Judas as the other stepped closer, his hands moving to the vampire's shoulders and then around the back of his neck as he leaned in. Their noses brushing had the fallen deity chuckling softly before Judas' lips pressed against his again. If Judas said this was fine then perhaps it would be. They deserved this time together after everything, didn't they?

"I do... Of course I do..." he breathed as he finally allowed himself to melt against the other. The tension he had been holding seemed to release all at once now that he allowed himself this. They had been fighting for so long and they did not have to anymore even as the world was coming to an end. "...love you..." Matthew whispered between kisses, not realising he was uttering those words as he resolved to pour all that he was feeling into his actions.

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

Feeling Matthew relax in their arms, he held him a little closer, gentle and affectionate. If they didn't think about what was coming, this could be the happy ending they didn't think they could ever have, with the man they loved. Even though the words were soft, there was no way Judas could ever have missed them. They couldn't tell if this was meant to be his confession, but it was enough for him.

Carefully, he lifted Matthew and carried him through the small space, going by memory as they kissed to carry him to the bed tucked away in the back. Lying his lover gently on the bed, their lips moved slowly along his jaw and down his neck, wanting to cover him with their love and affection as they stole the breath from their lungs. "I love you, Matthew," they said softly as they moved down to kiss his chest over the fallen deity's heart, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat.

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

Matthew went easily, his legs moving to wrap around Judas' waist as the vampire carried him through the safe house and to that familiar bed in the back. Their lips never once parted until he was placed down against the mattress and he could feel how heated his skin had become when Judas' lips trailed a cool path down his neck and then further.

His eyes softened as he looked down at the other and he thread his fingers into that short cropped hair. He could feel his heart skipping a beat when Judas said those words in return and surely they heard it too. "Judas..." Matthew breathed, the sheer desire and affection he felt for the vampire suddenly hitting him in that moment and he whined softly. "I..." It still felt just a little intimidating to say it so openly, but he needed to. "I love you too..."

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

They had fallen into bed together so many times, it was a familiar motion but this time was different. When Matthew's heart beat harder, it almost felt like his own was trying to beat with it, matching the heavy beats like they belonged together, beating as one. This time, when he said it, he wasn't hiding, even if he did seem shy. Smiling, Judas caught his lips in a soft kiss, wanting him to feel their love through their lips.

"I love your beautiful face," he murmured, kissing his lips softly again, before moving to his neck, kissing his throat. "I love your beautiful voice." They moved back, pulling Matthew's shirt out of the way slowly so he could kiss his chest next. "I love your stubborn heart and the way it beats for me," they said, lips still brushing against his chest as they pulled his shirt out of the way, kissing down his stomach. "And I love the butterflies you give me when you're close."

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

Matthew did not need empathic abilities to know how Judas felt about him. The vampire had managed to practically imbue the air around them with their affection for him as he said those words and punctuated each one with kisses that now seemed far too intimate, more intimate than anything Matthew had ever experienced. It was both thrilling and terrifying at once and it was all Matthew could focus on.

Another soft whimper passed through his lips as blue eyes followed Judas on his trail down his body. Was Judas expecting him to say the same things in return? Because the thought of doing so left the fallen deity too flustered to even think straight. There were so many things he could say but... "Judas..." was all he managed, his chest rising and falling. "Please..." His own hands had shakily moved to the vampire's shoulders to shove rather uselessly at their clothes. "Need you..."

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

More than anything, they wanted to spend their time exploring and worshipping Matthew's body and, so far, he seemed to be liking it if his whimpers were anything to go by. They couldn't deny him, sitting back to pull off their shirt, far dirtier and more torn up than when he'd put it on this morning. It was discarded aside, forgotten when he had Matt right here beneath him.

When he kissed him this time, it was far needier. Harder, more passionate. Hands moved down their lover's torso, keen on removing his shirt as well. There wasn't a rush, though they weren't sure when the world would end. The only thing that mattered was holding onto him now and not letting him go.

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

This was fine. This was good. This was perfect. Those words played over and over in Matthew's head as the seconds ticked by and he found himself lost in Judas' presence. He watched as the vampire removed his shirt and then reached out to draw Judas back on top of him. Their lips met again and Matthew moaned into it and dragged the vampire close, bare skin sliding against each other's. This felt so different to the way they were with each other countless times before and Matthew knew that it would only be like this from now until the end. He did not need to think any further past that.

His body arched under Judas' touches as he was divested of his shirt and his own hands explored Judas in kind, almost as if he were doing so for the first time. "Judas..." he breathed into the kisses, teeth nipping playfully at the vampire's lips and tongue when he could before his hands moved further down to start shoving at Judas' pants, removing them to leave them bare before rolling them over to press them back against the mattress with a soft chuckle. 

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

They nipped at his lips in return, but his fangs were able to draw small amounts of blood with each tiny scratch, making every kiss and drag of their tongue even better. There was an eagerness to Matthew's hands and they did the same, tugging at the demon's pants. They barely managed to pushed them down his hips before their positions were swiftly swapped. It always left him breathless when Matt would take control, giving into him without hesitation.

"If you're going to be on top, you better take care of me," they teased before finishing their previous task, pushing his pants down his legs. "Are you going to be good to me, Matthew?"

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

"You know I will..." Matthew teased in return, glad to finally be divested of all of their clothing as he moved to straddle Judas' hips. The way the vampire said his name sent a shiver down his spine and he made it a point to slide their arousals together with a roll of his hips and a pleased moan before repeating the motion a few more times.

He was panting softly when finally he stilled himself again, the look in his eyes had turned into something much needier and desperate. Breaking eye contact for a moment, Matthew reached for the drawer in the bedside table to yank it open, glad that his dear boy scout of a lover kept their safehouse well-stocked enough and he pulled out a bottle of much-needed lube. "Need you... In me..." he moaned and opened the bottle with shaky hands to squeeze its contents onto his palm and over Judas' fingers. He guided the vampire's hand behind him while his own closed around both of them to start stroking.

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

The way Matthew rocked their bodies together drew a groan from their lips, hands immediately going to his hips to encourage more friction between them. His mind was reeling, overwhelmed by how incredible Matt looked above him and how good it felt to feel his body against theirs, even if this was only the beginning. The movement caught his attention, his eyes followed his lover as he pulled out the bottle of lube. How could such a simple act be so hot?

"Nnng - I need to be inside you, fucking your perfect ass," they murmured, struggling to keep from moaning as they did. With the cool gel on their fingers, it didn't take much encouragement for Judas to move his hand around Matthew's body, dragging his fingers in circles around his tight entrance before carefully pushing on into him. It was difficult to focus when Matt was stroking their cocks, but it only built up the anticipation even more.

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

Even as he was stroking their arousals, Matthew was hyper aware of what Judas' fingers were doing behind him and he could not stop the gasp from falling from his lips when it was pressed into him. It felt already felt so good to be connected like this, but Matthew knew that there was going to be more.

"Judas..." the fallen deity moaned his lover's name again as his hips started rocking, both to slide his arousal into the circle of his own hand to push himself back against the intruding finger. This was going to be too much too soon, but Matthew was too lost with looking down at the way Judas was looking up at him, that almost reverent look on the vampire's face was taking his breath away. 

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

From this angle beneath him, they were able to admire him, his expressions of pleasure and the way his lips parted when he moaned to the flutter of his eyes. As good as his hand felt, they knew nothing felt better than him, than being with him and feeling their bodies pressed together. Their second finger was soon joining the first, eager to provide him with that little bit of teasing pleasure as he prepared his body for what was to follow.

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

Matthew moaned again when the second finger joined the first, his body shuddering from the onslaught of mounting pleasure he was feeling and he was sure to be showing on his face. He could tell that he was being much more open with Judas right now, more so than he had ever been in the past and perhaps it was because of what they had confessed to each other and how he had chosen the vampire to be with at the end of the world. He had nothing to hide from them anymore. 

Judas' name continued to fall from Matthew's lips as he kept moving and he had to force them both to stop before it all became too much. "Hnng..." he whined, drawing in breaths of air as he steadied himself again, eyes in a momentary daze before he released their cocks and moved to position himself just right. Matthew was glad to take charge in the moment to take his own pleasure and give Judas the same. "I'll take such good care of you..." the fallen deity promised as he slowly sank himself down on the other's cock.

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

Whether it was the love they shared between them or the fact that every second was stolen, this time was different. Everything was better, sweeter, every sensation feeling far more intense. They would chalk it up to Matthew, everything was better with him. The demon's name fell from his lips in groans, drinking in every second of their bodies dragging together. Their eyes narrowed and gaze darkened as they watched their lover move, getting into position above him.

"Matthew," he whined softly, his hands finding the other's hips and holding onto him as he took their cock into his body, surrounding them with his heat. "You always take care of me," Judas murmured, sounding breathless as they grinned up at him. Their body was begging for more but they were patient, knowing they would get all the pleasure they desired in the end.

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

Matthew stilled when he finally sat himself fully on Judas. It felt so good to finally be connected like this again and he wanted to savour the moment as he drank in the sight of Judas beneath him. If these next few days were going to be their last, the fallen deity wanted to etch and every second into his memory.

"You feel so good..." he murmured, pupils blown wide as he squeezed himself around Judas and causing himself to gasp from the sensation of it. Matthew's hands reached for his lover's face to trace downwards, past their neck to place against their bare chest before he finally started moving.

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

It was difficult to hold back, wanting to cause more of that pleasure that was washing across Matthew's face. They felt more energized from watching him move and hearing his voice come out in broken moans than they ever were from blood. As the demon began to move, rocking back onto their cock, Judas let out a low groan, drawing out the noise for a few extra moments as their fingers dug into Matt's hips.

"If anyone feels good here, it's you," they murmured, rocking their hips up and thrusting their needy cock into his tight body. No matter how many times they slept together, Judas never got over how incredible his body felt, wanting to savor it and keep him all for themselves. "You're so fucking sexy," they groaned, rocking their hips up again, wanting to hear his moaning their name again.

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

Matthew shouted into the room at the first upward thrust of Judas' hips just as he brought himself down, causing the vampire's cock to reach a different and very delicious angle and Matthew needed more. He was panting as he continued to bounce himself on Judas' lap, his lover's name a constant on his lips, coming in hushed breaths or shaky moans as the fallen deity lost himself in their lovemaking.

"I need..." he whimpered, squeezing around Judas' cock as his head tilted to the side to expose the long line of his neck to the vampire. Matthew was not shy in making known exactly what he wanted. "Judas... Please..." he begged, the invitation was clear.

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

Every little thing Matthew did made Judas want more, from his noises to his movements. The vampire was enchanted by him and it wasn't an accident. Between him rolling his hips back and them rocking up into him, they had found a good pace that pushed their cock hard and deep into him. They knew what he was asking, practically begging with his body. His neck was long and smooth, pink with the warmth that flowed beneath the surface. Carefully, Judas sat up, still holding onto his hips as they did, refusing to let him go.

"Mine," they murmured as they brushed their lips long his neck, finding the perfect stop before sinking their fang into his skin. The taste of his blood filled their mouth and they groaned, drinking it down in gulps. Blood always tasted better when dopamine was flooding the system from the pleasure of sex.

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

Matthew eagerly looped his arms around the vampire's shoulders when Judas sat up, finding that he loved this position they were in and the way he could smell and feel them everywhere. It was so easy to be lost in everything that was Judas.

"Yours..." the fallen deity gasped when those fangs sank into his neck and he groaned along with Judas, their moans mingling into the air of the safehouse as Matthew's hips continued to roll themselves with the intent to bring them both to their peaks. He was so close and it did not take long before a well-angled thrust sent him tumbling off the precipice. His body shuddered as he came, spilling himself between them as he clung desperately to his lover as if Judas were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

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

As pleasure flooded Matthew's veins, they could taste it on his tongue, groaning as his body clenched around their cock. Their arms wrapped around him, one around his waist and one pressed against his back. Judas pulled his fangs away, focusing instead on thrusting up into his perfect body, chasing his pleasure until they finally reached it. Their fingers dug into Matthew's skin as he growled, filling his body as they came, clinging to his lover all the while. Slowly, they kissed his neck, encouraging the bite marks to close before he moved up, scattering kisses across his skin until they found his lips once more.

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

Matthew's eyes had glazed over with pleasure as he rode out his orgasm, whining softly as Judas continued to use his body to finish and spill inside him as he did so. It felt so good to melt bonelessly against the other and he sighed as those kisses littered his skin and eventually Judas lips found his own.

"Hmmnnn..." he moaned blearily as he returned the kiss with lazy ones of his own. "...love...y.." Matthew muttered softly and almost inaudibly against them. 

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

Now that Matthew was sated, Judas took the opportunity to turn them, swapping their positions again and lying his lover back on the bed. Even thought they were both spent from making love, they had no plans on leaving this bed or letting Matt leave, either.

"You're so cute," they hummed, pressing lazy kisses down his neck and everywhere they could reach.

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

"Thank you..." Matthew chuckled, face heating up from the arguably simple words of praise. They were not often used on someone like him and the fallen deity could not help a shy smile as he watched his lover kiss a trail down across his skin. It was so easy to forget the rest of the world like this and Matthew did not think that it was all that bad now.

"Is this where we'll be staying until the end of times?" he chuckled. It was funny how that was something that could be an actual question now that they only had a few more days to live. "I suppose it's nice if it's in your arms..."

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

Judas took his time scattering slow and affectionate kisses across Matt's torso, taking in how beautiful he was. There was never any time to admire him and his body in their other nights together. Now was the perfect time for it.

"What, is there something wrong with the safehouse?" they questioned, shooting him a warning look, all in teasing, before they returned to kissing his torso. "I didn't think you'd want to go back to the tower, and this was the best place we could be alone and no one would bother us."

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

"I didn't mean that..." Matthew chuckled, enjoying the look of mock offence on Judas' face. It was adorable. "This place is perfect. I still remembering you bringing me here after..." he trailed off slightly as he thought on just how much they had been through and how far they had come. "After Park Sung Joon... You kept me here for months. Like some princess in a tower," the fallen deity joked.

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

Thinking about when they had reconnected again brought up some emotions he hadn't realised were there, but were there all the same. "A princess the city was trying to find and execute, yeah," they replied, managing to smile and chuckle.  After a few more kisses to his chest, Judas moved back up his body to kiss his neck and nuzzle against him. "I would have done anything to keep you safe.”

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

"I suppose I left out that small detail..." The fallen deity mused, his fingers gently running through Judas' dark hair. Matthew hummed softly, enjoying the attention the vampire was lavishing on him before he wrapped his arms around his lover. "I know... And we're safe. Right here." And Matthew would not trade it for anything in the world. 

They managed to sleep for a few hours wrapped in each others arms and when Matthew blinked his eyes open, he realised that Judas was not next to him. He bolted upright in bed just as the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit his senses and he relaxed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up. "It's good to know that coffee is still very much a thing given the impending apocalypse..."

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

When they'd woke again, it was early, just like every other day had been. Perhaps that was for the best, giving them more time to spend together as the world crept toward its end. They spent a long while simply gazing at Matthew as he slept, taking in his beautiful features and how serene he looked in his sleep.

Eventually, the vampire got up from the bed and moved to the small kitchen. By the time the coffee was ready, he heard Matthew's heartrate suddenly skyrocket before soon coming back down. He relaxed quickly enough that Judas didn't go running to check on him. Instead, they poured Matthew a cup of coffee, just the way he likes it, and brought it to the bed. "The world might be ending, but it certainly isn't over yet," they replied, carefully handing him the mug before kissing his cheek. "Good morning, babe."

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

Matthew smiled when he saw Judas come back to bed and he decided that he could stay here a little longer. The kiss on the cheek, the fresh coffee in his hands and the easy way they were with each other was something Matthew had never experienced all at once before, not when all of their prior trysts had been much less intimate and personal. Matthew decided that he quite liked this and he turned his face just in time to catch Judas' lips in a kiss just as a momentary wave of sadness washed over him at the thought that they would not get much more than a few days of this.

"Morning, love..." he murmured, trying not to think on that for too long. "So, what's the plan for today? Are we staying in bed? Going out?"

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

He hummed softly as Matthew caught their lips in a kiss, their chest warming with affection. It had only taken the end of the world to get the affection and happiness that they have craved so desperately their entire life.

"I was leaving that up to you. I'm happy just to stay here holding onto you all day if you let me." Judas shuffled in closer, arms wrapping loosely around Matthew's waist.

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

And Matthew believed every word Judas was saying as those arms wrapped around him to draw him close. Pressing a soft kiss to the top of the vampire's head, Matthew mumbled soft words of affection as he closed his eyes to savour the moment.

"Shall we go out today? On a date, of sorts?" he suggested, feeling his cheeks heat up because it was not something he would have ever thought to suggest before all of this.

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

The idea of a date was far too cute, and it was everything Judas wanted. That might have shown in the way he smiled warmly, almost giddy.

"I'd really like that," they hummed, peppering kisses to Matthew's cheek and neck. "Do you think there is anything still open?"

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

"We'll find a place..." Matthew chuckled, enjoying the way Judas was so open with physical affection and he was glad to have suggested it. "If all else fails, a nice walk through some empty city streets will do just as well... We can go anywhere. I'll take us. Is there a city you'd like to visit?"

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

Judas thought about the question for a long few moments. They had spent so long in the city and never wanted to leave, it felt strange to think about leaving.

"Home," he murmured without thinking, and he knew Matthew understood where he was referring to, the only person in the entire world who'd understand. "But I'm happy just walking down the street with you. Maybe we could visit someone, pretend like a normal day."

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

"Home..." Matthew repeated and he smiled, remembering what Judas had told him of the place he first saw in a painting in Judas' home. "Let's go home and we'll find a way to do the rest."

--------------------------------time skip------------------------------------

The rest of the day was spent returning to the place Judas was born. It was a beautiful place and had changed much over the years, but the view in Judas' painting still existed and that was where they found themselves as the sun began to set. Matthew's arms were wound around Judas' waist as their eyes were trained on how the colours in the sky danced and mixed together. "This is just as beautiful as your painting..."

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

It was a stupid idea and, yet, when Matthew agreed, Judas felt an odd feeling twisting in his chest. Happiness and anxiety and fear, those things he recognized, but the rest of it made no sense, not that they understood the feelings at all. They understood it when they walked through the streets together, enjoying the beauty of a city that had changed without him, evolving and growing but still, it was the same. Thank fuck for the sunring he'd had stored in the safehouse that had much more of a charge that the one he usually had.

Eventually, they found a spot to sit together and watch the sun as it set over the horizon. This was the view he remembered, the one they had painted. "And it's not nearly as beautiful as you," they murmured in response, kissing Matthew's cheek softly.

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

Judas was much too sweet, Matthew thought, and a person the fallen deity would thought to normally have fallen for, but the universe seemed to have decided otherwise. "You're too much," he chuckled, cheeks heating under the coolness of Judas' lips. His blue eyes roved over the vampire's face as the light of the setting sun danced across their features. This beautiful man in front of him was all his, all his until the end of time.

"I wish we had more time together..." he said, voice hushed as a sudden wave of sadness washed over him. Matthew could not bear the thought of Judas dying when it all came to an end.

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

They were an affectionate person when given the chance, though they hardly ever had that chance. Now, he wanted to fill their short time left together with as much of it as possible. It helped that Matthew blushed and had a cute look every time. 

"Me too," they replied in a soft voice, pressing their face against Matt's neck to breathe in his scent, to commit it to memory.

"But that doesn't make the time we have any less special." After all these long years of longing for a deep connection with Matthew, it felt gratifying to finally have it. That was enough for him, or at least they were content with it as the world slowly drew to an end.

"Maybe we'll have another chance, in another life."

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

Matthew could feel the unnatural way the world was being torn apart right where he stood and it scared him. Where would their souls go when this was all over and there was nothing to return to?

"In another life..." he nodded and leaned in to hug Judas tightly as he tried shoving that fear aside. "We'll find each other. Let's do that..."

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

he idea of being together in another life was comforting. Maybe they were a cute couple in another life, living together and sharing morning kisses and curling up in bed together at night. There was comfort in that idea. Judas chuckled softly. "I'll definitely find you," they hummed, stealing a soft kiss from his sweet lips.

----------------------------------time skip------------------------------------

Matthew could feel how the energy in the air continued shifting as the hours and next day passed. The world was truly coming to an end. There was no way around it and no one to save them anymore.

They retreated back to the safe house on the last day, opting to stay in bed together for when the time came. Matthew believed that if he could just ignore the rest of the world while he remained in Judas' arms, then that was what he wanted to do.

It still terrified him as the imminent moment drew closer and closer and neither of them could deny what was happening anymore. But when it did, Matthew leaned in to press his lips to Judas' one last time, savouring this moment before wrapping his arms around the vampire and the world around them crumbled into nothing.

END!

[scientifically-strange]

Just thought of this, but imagine if Danny met the Guardians of the Galaxy. He’d probably ask them a few thousand questions about what space is like, wouldn’t it be hilarious? XD

Starlord was expecting a lot of weird shit to happen in space, but a glowing, floating teenager who was thrown out of a green circle in the middle of space was not one of them.

"Woah," the kid said with nothing short of sheer excitement. "Are we in space? I don't recognize any of the constellations. Where are we? Oh my god are you guys aliens? That's so fucking cool."

"who are you?" Gamora asks. He turns, and she places her blade at the base of his throat, but he seems woefully unbothered by it. Instead, he thrusts his hand forward.

"My name's Phantom! I accidentally flew through a natural portal. Sorry for crash landing in your ship."

Starlord calmly walks over and nudges Gamora's blade to the side while he takes Phantom's hand and shakes it. "Where are you from?" He asks.

"Oh, I'm from Earth," Phantom replies. He's not looking at Starlord, though. No, he's looking every which way and that, bending over backwards to get a better view of everything. "Is this your space ship? Oh my god am I on a space ship?"

"Yeah," Starlord answers, an amused tone to his voice. "You said you're from Earth? We're not too far, we could take you back if you need us too."

"Quill-" a racoon starts, but Starlord shoots him a desperate look. he doesn't want the kid on his ship. Especially one that doesn't even really know about space travel. Plus, what if he was dangerous? he wasn't about to let the kid take down his ship and his friends. Earth could deal with that problem.

It was a three day trip, which was a three day delay in their plans. Thankfully there was a port close to Earth that they could use to refill. According to Phantom all they had to do was drop him off near the atmosphere and he'd be fine on his own.

The kid talked a lot. In fact, the only time he's not rattling their ears off with facts about space and stars and stories behind constellations is when he's wolfing down a Drax-sized serving of food.

They answered his questions to the best of their abilities, and while Rocket hadn't been too excited to interact wit him, when he found out the kid had a knack for unconventional technology he had all but taken him under his wing. He traded battle stories with Drax, who would pull him into a headlock and he would show Starlord all sorts of new music on his cell phone. He talked to Gamora about Earth literature and he had a very heated rock-paper-scissors battle with Groot that lasted nearly three hours.

All in all the kid was an absolute riot to be around. Phantom and Rocket figured out a way to get the music from Phantom's phone downloaded into the ship's system, which Starlord was eternally grateful for. There were thousands of new songs for him to go through.

Ghosts were something Starlord couldn't quite wrap his head around, but with Phantom pulling off more and more ghostly shit, it was starting to become almost normal. Though eh could do without the kid walking through him. That had been a weird, terrifying experience for him, and Rocket still hasn't let either of them live it down.

Just as promised, they stop near the Earth's atmosphere. And though he had been nothing but a ball of excitement over the past few days, Phantom seems pretty reluctant to go home now.

"You okay, kid? Don't you wanna see your family or something?"

"Or something," Phantom grimaced.

"Well...If you need us, just call us, alright?" Rocket held out his hands, and a small communicator was placed into Phantom's. The teen gave them a watery smile as he held out his hand for them to shake. Starlord couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the front of the kid's suit. He tugged him into a tight hug, lifting the laughing teen off of his feet. Gamora had gripped his forearm warrior style that Phantom returned with the utmost respect. Drax had also pulled him into a hug, and this time Phantom's vertebra popped all the way down until Phantom was fully relaxed against Drax's chest.

"That felt good," he says.

"Of course it did," Drax replied, setting Phantom down. "I am the best."

Danny snorts and gives him a two fingered salute. Groot gives him a soft hug and a flower from his shoulder, and Phantom holds it like it's the most precious thing in the world. He fist bumps Rocket, and with one last goodbye, he's phasing through the ship's hull and flying towards Earth.

It doesn't take them long to get back to their seats. Phantom's music is queued up as Starlord settles in. He meets Rocket's gaze, which looks...Almost sad.

"You think we'll ever see the runt again?" He asks. Starlord just smiles at him.

"I don't see why we wouldn't," he tells Rocket. "Besides, if the kid needs help he'll call us. We live in space, it's not like he'll let us get far without begging for a joyride or something."

"He's very intelligent," Gamora comments. "If he knows what's good for him he'll find us when he's ready."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, you got that right, Pal," Rocket huffs. "Come on, Quill. Daylight's burning."

[esther-dot]

Hi! This has been probably discussed before, but don't you wonder why Sansa doesn't think about the unkiss as her first kiss? It could be that GRRM just doesn't see it as relevant, but at the same time, Sansa is such a romantic character that I find hard to believe that she would not lament/think about it as her first kiss. I could even imagine her sharing innocent kisses with Jeyne, but then again it wouldn't be the same as kissing a man (in her mind probably) and she didn't ever remember something like it when Margaery's cousins said they played a kissing game with each other. In fact, that instance made her remember the kiss that never happened. I just find it sooo weird.

I haven’t heard someone talk about that. What an interesting point, anon! I find the writing around the unkiss very strange, I hadn't thought of that angle though.

I accept the idea that Sansa isn’t remembering correctly due to trauma, so it makes sense that the author doesn't want to go too far in her romanticizing it. Maybe that's why she doesn't talk about it that way? It still doesn't have the same terror that other traumas do in the revisiting. Where the near rape during the riot is recalled in nightmares, and Sansa wakes up thinking she’s been torn to ribbons, the miss-recollection is this:

The cousins took Sansa into their company as if they had known her all their lives. They spent long afternoons doing needlework and talking over lemon cakes and honeyed wine, played at tiles of an evening, sang together in the castle sept . . . and often one or two of them would be chosen to share Margaery's bed, where they would whisper half the night away. Alla had a lovely voice, and when coaxed would play the woodharp and sing songs of chivalry and lost loves. Megga couldn't sing, but she was mad to be kissed. She and Alla played a kissing game sometimes, she confessed, but it wasn't the same as kissing a man, much less a king. Sansa wondered what Megga would think about kissing the Hound, as she had. He'd come to her the night of the battle stinking of wine and blood. He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song.

"King Joffrey has such beautiful lips," Megga gushed, oblivious, "oh, poor Sansa, how your heart must have broken when you lost him. Oh, how you must have wept!" (ASOS, Sansa II)

and again

Before she could summon the servants, however, Sweetrobin threw his skinny arms around her and kissed her. It was a little boy's kiss, and clumsy. Everything Robert Arryn did was clumsy. If I close my eyes I can pretend he is the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak. (AFFC, Alayne II)

and

"Oh, yes. He died on top of me. In me, if truth be told. You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?"

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. "That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying. There, I mean, whilst . . . whilst he was . . ."

". . . fucking me?" She shrugged. "It was disconcerting, certainly. Not to mention discourteous. He did not even have the common decency to plant a child in me. Old men have weak seed. So here I am, a widow, but scarce used. Harry could have done much worse. I daresay that he will. Lady Waynwood will most like marry him to one of her granddaughters, or one of Bronze Yohn's." (AFFC, Alayne II)

and here is the actual event she’s misremembering:

The blood masked the worst of his scars, but his eyes were white and wide and terrifying. The burnt corner of his mouth twitched and twitched again. Sansa could smell him; a stink of sweat and sour wine and stale vomit, and over it all the reek of blood, blood, blood.

"I could keep you safe," he rasped. "They're all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them." He yanked her closer, and for a momentshe thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. "Still can't bear to look, can you?" she heard him say. He gave her arm a hard wrench, pulling her around and shoving her down onto the bed. "I'll have that song. Florian and Jonquil, you said." His dagger was out, poised at her throat. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life."

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. (ACOK, Sansa VII)

He's very aggressive and violent here, matching his words to his actions so well Sansa believes he will kill her. Sansxn shippers read this and get the sexual connotations and claim it as foreshadowing for a sexual relationship later, but I think an honest reading is that the Hound intended to rape her and that is why those connotations are there. He says so himself later, and the whole singing/song thing is a euphemism for sex, so the author’s intent seems pretty clear.

So, perhaps what we're meant to see is a gradual dawning realization with her. It's too painful for her to remember accurately at the moment, but kissing makes her think of it, a story of a man fucking and dying on top of her reminds her of being molested by Tyrion and the Hound is included, because it is there, somewhere inside her she knows what he wanted, she simply can’t fully acknowledge it yet. It appears she fixated on her first thought:

He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened.

And can't consciously work through the trauma of a man who had saved her and promised to keep her safe trying to rape her. Perhaps believing that was all he was after led to believing it was actually what happened, all in an effort to protect herself.

But that doesn't answer your point. I don't know what to think, anon. It's all a little odd to me.I suppose if she thought of it that way it might feel like romanticizing the assault or making it a real event more than Martin wants to? I really can’t say.

[writertitan]

Grandfather Clock (III)

pairing: levi x f!reader

word count: 7068 (oops)

themes:  adult f!reader, arranged marriage, multi-part fic, levi is a stubborn asshole at first, no love at first sight here folks

a/n: the final part!! enjoy!!!

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

On the 20th day of Levi’s engagement to you, he found himself tense, frowning, and sitting across a less than pleased Erwin, right in the commander’s office. 

Erwin sat at his desk, deep discontent written all over his face, with his arms folded tightly across his broad chest. 

Levi knew the scolding was coming and cursed himself in his head for being so careless. He hadn’t really meant too much by it. Mike had just been asking him how things were going as they walked down the hall together and the words had just tumbled out. Levi didn’t like talking about his personal life in general, mostly because he had hardly had one prior to getting engaged, but now he was extra wary. 

“Not much to tell. Just thankful she agreed not to have an actual wedding and to prolong it as long as possible.” 

That was all he’d said and he’d said it with a tone of finality that Mike understood well. It was the tone that warned not to push it any farther. 

It was just Levi’s luck that Erwin had rounded the corner as the words left him. The commander had bristled as he processed what Levi had said and then blurted out that he needed to see the shorter man immediately, in his office. 

Levi had never seen Mike hurry off so quickly before. 

And now here he was, tense and waiting for Erwin to lash out at him. 

The words came moments later, but Levi didn’t get yelled at, which made him feel worse. Erwin was quiet, stern, and very open with his disappointment. 

“Is it true? You really asked that of her?” 

“Yes,” Levi sighed, running a hand over his tired face. “I did.” 

“You didn’t even consult me about it. Levi, I hope you know I’m trying to grant you as much freedom as I can in this situation, but this was out of line. I’m sorry, but you don’t have that kind of say.” 

Erwin’s words made Levi wince a little, but he tried to keep a stoic face. He could see that the commander was waiting for him to say something, but Levi didn’t quite know what to say. 

He thought of you for a moment, and thought about how confused he’d been lately, and then looked at Erwin with a hint of a frown. 

“You’ve hardly given us any freedom,” he blurted out, and then cursed himself yet again. He’d used the word “us” instead of “me” and he knew that Erwin would catch wind of that. 

He did, and he even seemed to soften up a bit, raising a brow curiously. 

And then Erwin used you as ammunition. 

“You’ve stripped away any semblance of choice left for her by making her agree to your terms. She has even less freedom than you. Is that what you wanted?” Erwin asked, but the question was more rhetorical than anything. 

Levi’s frown grew deeper. His mind went back to you, how broken you’d looked when he’d said he didn’t want a wedding day, and how he wanted to wait as long as possible to actually be married. And then his mind took him to that day you were feeling unwell, and how that same broken expression appeared when he’d gotten upset with you. 

His chest grew heavy when he realized he had helped in breaking you. 

And even worse, he hadn’t gone back to visit you after that day, when you had fainted. It had spurred too many mixed emotions in him and he had wanted the space to clear his head. And you had confirmed you were still unwell in your most recent letter to him from yesterday. 

But maybe you were lying. Maybe Levi had broken you so much that you wanted to start keeping your distance from him. 

That’s what he wanted, right? 

Is that what you wanted?

Erwin’s unanswered question echoed in his mind. 

If that was what he’d wanted, why did he feel this way, so horrible, after being called out by Erwin? 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Levi finally said, unable to meet Erwin’s gaze. 

Erwin hummed and sat back in his chair, arms now unfolded as he looked at Levi. The conversation had gone way beyond Levi’s little mistake. As much as he wanted to help his friend, there was a reason Erwin had been wandering the halls. He had, in fact, been searching for Levi. And he had, in fact, been wanting to discuss the topic of you. It had been mere coincidence that Erwin had caught Levi’s confession. 

“Talk to her,” Erwin said, eyes on Levi, who was still looking anywhere but at him. “And I’d suggest going today. There was a reason I’ve been looking for you.” 

At that, Levi flickered his eyes to Erwin, a hint of curiosity in them. And, dare Erwin say, even a little bit of worry hid behind the silver. 

“Well, spit it out,” Levi said, already making to stand up. “What happened? Is something wrong?” 

Erwin also stood up, slowly and deliberately, and didn’t know how to answer that. 

“There’s been some...civil unrest recently. Some of the working class citizens have been getting riled up because of some recent unfortunate events with the upper class,” Erwin explained, watching carefully for Levi’s reaction. “Some of my intel has told me there’s talk of a few riots being planned.” 

“What kind of ‘unfortunate events’ are you talking about?” Levi pressed, arms at his side with hands clenched into fists. This didn’t sound good. 

“Seems like your fiancee’s father has been in some bad business deals that affected a lot of his workforce. And he’s got quite the workforce, if you remember,” Erwin murmured, looking a little thoughtful as he tried to gage Levi’s reaction. “I was looking for you to tell you that I’d like for you to go and check on things. I’m not sure how extreme the situation is.” 

Levi was already halfway out of the office and didn’t bother to answer. He was, without a doubt, upset. 

Upset that Erwin didn’t let him know about this immediately. 

Upset that it would take a while to get to you. 

And, curiously, he was upset that he was upset. What the hell was going on with him? 

-

In your parlor room, you were curled up on the sofa and reading your favorite book. It took all your willpower to try not to think about how, just a few days ago, Levi had touched those very same pages. 

He’d kept his distance since then, though you had certainly had some part in that by sending him a note to say you were still sick. It wasn’t true at all and you’d felt almost back to normal the next day, but you couldn’t really face Levi yet. Despite forgiving him and allowing yourself to have a little bit of hope that things would turn out okay for the two of you, it was obvious that Levi was still on the fence with you, and had a very specific opinion about who you were despite not getting to know you. 

You were using this time away from him to think of ways to show him that you weren’t that way at all, and that his impression of you was, truthfully, completely off the mark. 

As the grandfather clock sounded off at noon, it brought you back to reality. You set your book down, not that you’d actually been reading much of it, and sighed when your stomach grumbled. Definitely lunchtime. 

You stood up and stretched, about to walk to the kitchen and bother Chef Erlo when you realized something seemed...off. 

The clock struck noon for a final time and you realized that that was the only sound you could really hear from all over the house. Silence engulfed you when the grandfather clock stopped, and you peered out into the hallway, baffled when you saw absolutely nobody in sight. 

Feeling like you couldn’t break the silence, you stayed quiet as a mouse as you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to hear the usual bustle of noise there for lunch. Maybe that’s where everyone was. It was lunchtime, after all. Had you forgotten it was somebody’s birthday? Sometimes you’d sneak the staff into the servant’s quarters for a bit of a break and have a little birthday celebration during lunch, but you were sure nobody’s big day was today.

But you didn’t make it to the kitchen. As you got closer to the foyer, you could hear the commotion outside, interrupting the eerie silence in your home. Instead of going to check on things, curiosity got the best of you and you ended up peering out the window to see what was going on. A little gasp left your lips when you saw what was outside. 

Hoards of people were at the gates of your home, screaming and shouting profanities as they tried to make their way inside. Your heart sped up at the sight, absolutely terrified at the pure hatred they all wore on their faces. You couldn’t really make out what they were all saying, but you heard the profanities, and you heard your father’s name enough times to know that this was personal. 

The guards situated outside at the gate were pushing back as much as they could, and you even see that some of the Garrison soldiers had come to help out, but the crowd seemed to be growing bigger and bigger by the second. At any moment, it would bubble over and spill past the gates of your home. 

Right to you. 

Once again, after a lifetime of avoiding your father and his business to try and escape it, you were being dragged right into the middle of it instead. 

You had to run. The anger outside was something that was almost tangible; you could feel it weighing heavily in the air even from where you stood inside your home. No doubt that someone would try to hurt you just in the belief that it would hurt your father to know they’d gotten to you. 

For a brief moment, Levi flashed through your mind, and you sincerely regretted lying to him about still feeling unwell when his face popped to the front of your head. Maybe he would have helped you. Maybe not. The anger you could feel from the crowd outside was unfortunately similar to the anger Levi had bestowed upon you just a few days ago. 

As you backed away from the window, you thought of all the different places you could go to hide. So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t register the footsteps sneaking up behind you and gasped when a hand clamped against your mouth to keep you quiet. 

Before you could try and scream, a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Shh, it’s only me. Let’s go.” 

You whirled around, tears of relief springing to your eyes as you hugged Greta tightly. 

“Greta,” you breathed out shakily, pulling away to look at her with wide eyes. “What’s going on?” 

“Let’s not talk here, come on,” she whispered, tugging you towards the servant’s quarters, where you knew the wine cellar was situated. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind the two of you, Greta practically dragged you down the stairs. It was cooler down there and you shivered involuntarily. 

There was dim candlelight at the end of the steps that lit up a narrow hallway, one that led towards a heavy wooden door. Chef Erlo was there holding a candelabra with one hand, a silver key in the other. 

Your tears of relief spilled over at the sight of him. 

“Erlo,” you whimpered, moving to hug him as well. He was just as quick about it as Greta was, gently stepping away from you with a small and sympathetic smile. 

“We’ll get you out of here safely, miss,” he promised you. 

A pang of fear hit you and you looked between Erlo and Greta, hand at your chest as you thought of the worst. 

“And everyone else? Is everyone okay?” you asked them.

From above, you heard glass shattering and heavy thumps. Your heart pounded so hard against your chest that you worried your ribs would crack from the force. The fear you felt in that moment was unparalleled, unmatched by any other situation in your life. You’d never been this scared in your entire life. 

“Everyone is safe. Except for you,” Greta said, and she nodded for Erlo to open the door. He unlocked it and hurried you both inside, but you stopped in your tracks when you saw Erlo wasn’t following. 

“I’m going to lock the door behind me and slip the key under the crack. That should buy you some time,” he said to Greta, avoiding your gaze. 

“What are you talking about? You’re coming with us, it’s not safe here! Something’s happening outside, people are angry and I don’t know why,” you rambled, tearing up again. Greta reached over to squeeze your hand, but everything about it was rushed, too hurried to really be a comfort to you. 

Erlo flashed you another small smile, and then gave you a wink, his crow’s feet prominent as he finally flashed his goofy smile. 

“I’ll be fine, miss. Don’t worry about me. It’s not me they’re after,” he assured you, but it didn’t make you feel any better. 

Chef Erlo was like the father you’d never had. It was impossible to allow him to do this, but Greta held you back as he shut the door and locked it once again, with the key slipping underneath moments later. 

Greta let go of you to swipe it off the ground, and then began to push you forward, nearly in the dark save for cracks of light at the door opposite the room. 

The faint smell of wine permeated the air and you found yourself wishing for a glass to calm your nerves. Greta led you to the door in just a few moments flat, using the same key to unlock it and hurry through with you in tow. 

It was the bulkhead entrance to the wine cellar, where the merchants would come deliver or take some wine. Part of your father’s business. It was where a lot of things were delivered. On the few steps there beneath the wooden doors, there was a maid’s dress and some worn shoes. One look at Greta told you that the new outfit was for you, so you wasted no time in nearly tearing off your dress and kicking off your shoes to put on the much simpler garments and better blend in outside without striking too much attention to yourself. Your current outfit would have been a dead giveaway to your status. 

Greta lifted one of the doors up just enough to peer out cautiously as you changed, making sure it was safe to leave. Once she was sure it was, she nodded to you and lifted the door up quietly, keeping it lifted for you to hop up the short steps and out into the spring afternoon. 

It was cloudy outside, threatening to rain. As if on cue, a crack of thunder sounded and you felt it was remarkably similar to a cliche in your favorite novel; it always rained whenever your favorite character was feeling upset. 

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Greta gripped you by the elbow and tugged you away from the house in a pace that was rushed but not too much that it looked suspicious. Now that you were wearing new clothes, you looked like everyone else outside. There was no real need to rush and risk getting caught. 

Nobody paid the two of you any mind. The real focus was on your house that was currently getting ransacked. 

The sight made your heart sink to your stomach, but your tears had already dried. 

It was true that these people were destroying the only home you’d ever known. It was true that in that moment, you were sure you’d never go back to it. But you just couldn’t find it in you to cry about this. Your tears were reserved for your staff and worrying about their wellbeing. 

Whatever your father had done, it probably deserved this level of outrage. 

Although you were filled to the brim with fear and adrenaline, above all, you felt a peculiar sense of freedom as more and more people pushed their way past the gates of your home to run inside. 

Greta gave you a moment to watch the scene before steering you away with promises to explain everything as soon as she got you to safety. 

The only time tears actually did threaten your eyes again was when Captain Levi’s face pushed its way into your mind once more. 

Maybe you would never see him again. And maybe he’d like that. 

-

Levi was all too familiar with feeling dread settle in his stomach and harden like a rock. He’d experienced it all his life, countless times as he watched comrades die, often such a big part of his nightmares and the reason for his insomnia. 

He didn’t expect to feel that rock in his stomach as he approached your home. Rather, what was left of it. 

But he felt it settle in his stomach, a dread so heavy that he almost had to hunch over, and he looked on in horror as people continued to run in and out of your home. Many people were running out with valuables in their arms. Others were running inside just to destroy everything in sight. 

He was far too late, by the look of things. 

His eyes darted around, a futile attempt to locate you, but of course he didn’t see you anywhere. 

Soldiers and guards were doing what they could, and Levi could see reinforcements marching in, but it was too late. 

It was too late. 

Levi hopped off his horse and pushed past people and soldiers alike as he ran into your home, taking in the sight of broken glass and ruined furniture and banged up walls. 

It was disgusting. 

He went to your room first and only found it ravaged and empty with no signs of life. 

Levi knew he was being crazy. Of course he wasn’t going to just find you there. In fact, the thought of seeing you in the middle of all this would have actually been worse. But not knowing where you were had his stomach in knots. 

As a last resort, he checked the parlor room, where you’d shared an afternoon that had left Levi questioning himself and questioning you. Mostly himself. 

He got there as the grandfather clock chimed at the top of the hour. It was just as ravaged as your room, but curiously enough, he noticed your favorite novel on the ground by where the side table used to be. 

He picked it up and clutched it tightly, and then made a promise. 

He would find you and he would get your book back to you. It was the only possession you had left in the world, he realized, looking around. 

He’d find you. 

He wouldn’t rest until he’d found you. 

-

A cup of tea warmed your hands as silence filled the room of Greta’s mother’s kitchen. 

The two women stared at you with so much sympathy, and so much worry, that it made you feel loved and yet also a little small at the same time. 

Greta had just finished explaining everything to you. 

Your father had been atrocious, and had taken advantage of his employees. He was in protective custody because he’d anticipated this riot to happen. Nobody knew where your mother was. It was a miracle that Greta and Erlo had managed to help you and everyone else out before you’d gotten hurt. Or killed. 

And now you didn’t know what would happen next. 

Your spirits, already low, dimmed even more at the thought of Chef Erlo. You desperately hoped he was okay, and hopefully he was. After all, he’d been correct: nobody was trying to hurt him. Only you and your family. 

“Are you sure everybody made it out safely?” you whispered to Greta, who immediately nodded. 

“Everyone’s been aware of some of the...tensions around town,” she explained. “We all had an exit plan in the works, just didn’t realize we’d have to implement it so soon.” 

You flashed a brief and sad smile, nodding once as you took a sip of your tea. 

“Thank you for getting everyone out safely first. It means the world to me.” 

In your mind, you were just as responsible for your father’s sins as he was. To think you didn’t even have a clue of what was going on. It was embarrassing. 

As if reading your mind, Greta’s mother, May, reached forward to squeeze your arm reassuringly. 

“It’s not your fault, darling,” she murmured. “It wasn’t your place to know.” 

You sighed softly and kept your eyes on your tea, frowning to yourself. It was true that you had basically been forced to be cooped up in the house, and now you were thinking there was a clear reason behind it now. You hardly had much say in your day to day schedule, especially after getting engaged to Captain Levi. Still, it didn’t feel good to be so in the dark. 

And the thought of Captain Levi sent your heart aflutter. Did he know? Had he been aware of this the whole time? Was this part of the reason for your arrangement? 

Slowly, you picked up your gaze from your tea to settle on Greta, biting the inside of your cheek before asking the question you were dreading to ask. 

“What happens now?” 

She didn’t look too sure either as she pondered your question, finally settling for shrugging her shoulders. 

“I don’t know, miss,” she answered honestly. “I hate to say it, but it depends on your father. He and your mother will start looking for you once they realize you’re missing.” 

The thought made you nauseous. Despite such a horrible outcome of your day, that peculiar feeling of freedom had been what kept you going. There was some sort of thrill attached to it. 

You realized it was achingly similar to the hope you felt for your arrangement for Levi. The chance of things looking up, turning around. 

All this hope and nothing to show for it. 

Now you were hopeless. 

-

News had gotten to Erwin quickly. Levi saw the commander ride in with other squad leaders as he helped beat down and arrest some of the rowdier citizens at your home. He hated to be there and wanted to go off and find you more than anything, but someone there had to have seen you, or seen what happened to you. 

So far, nobody seemed to remember seeing you. In fact, some people had sworn to him that the house had been empty of people the entire time. Not a soul in the home at all. 

When Erwin stepped past the gates, Levi had never wanted to pummel him so badly. Instead, he shoved a badly beaten merchant towards his commander with a growl, eyes nearly feral as he found the calm blue ones that he hated more than anything at the moment. 

“You said there was civil unrest. You didn’t say there was an entire fucking mob,” he snapped. 

Erwin remained calm, casually stepping over the merchant to get closer to Levi. 

“Seems I was deceived,” he admitted, looking around. “Her father kept me in the dark. I had no idea about any of this. But I suppose you’ll be pleased to hear that I’m calling off the deal. We can’t tarnish the Scouts’ reputation even more by doing business with this family.” 

Levi’s body went cold at the news. 

Just a couple of weeks ago, he would have felt nothing but pure relief. Now, he felt nothing but pure dread. 

“What about…?” 

Levi couldn’t even say your name. It caught at the back of his throat and he struggled to breathe. He tried his best to remain as stoic as always, but Erwin knew him so well, and could see the concern at the edges of Levi’s gaze. 

“There’s not much protection we can offer her, being her father’s daughter. She’s under his control,” Erwin reminded him. “Do you know where she is? I heard she’s declared missing.” 

Levi nodded once to confirm, his worry amplifying at Erwin’s words. 

He couldn’t protect you. Not while you were still affiliated with your father. 

“People are saying that nobody was in the house,” Levi said, giving the commander a rundown of events. “I did a quick search, didn’t find any of the staff. No one was around.” 

Erwin hummed a little, hands behind his back as he took in the sight of the damaged house in front of him. 

“No surprise there. Our man of the hour is already in protective custody, having predicted this well before anyone else, and his wife was visiting with a friend, and now they’re all in protective custody as well. It’s just your ex-fiancee that we’re having trouble locating. Perhaps she’s with her staff.” 

How stupid of him. Levi hadn’t really thought of that possibility yet. He’d been so focused on finding you, assuming the worst, that he hadn't taken the time to really think it through enough to realize that you were missing along with the staff. 

Erwin was already five steps ahead of them. 

“Some of the scouts are off to find the staff members that don’t live here in-house. One of them is bound to know where she is.” 

Levi couldn’t help the small sigh of relief that left him, but he still felt useless if he wasn’t doing more to help. Without another word to Erwin, he marched off to do another quick search around the entire perimeter. 

Some medics had come onto the scene as well and he was surprised to see a couple of them towards the back of the house, dragging someone out of the cellar. Levi had admittedly not really looked down there, knowing all there was, was food storage and wine cellar that someone had told him was all cleared out by now. 

A familiar old man was getting dragged out and treated. He was badly beaten, bruised from head to toe, and his breathing was raspy and uneven. 

Levi knew him to be a staff member and his heart skipped a beat. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling beside the old man, shaking him to get his attention despite the angry protests of a medic. 

The old man opened his eyes and grimaced, but his face grew soft at the sight of Levi. 

“Captain Levi,” he greeted him in a hoarse voice. “You’re a little late, don’t you think?” 

“Where is she?” Levi asked, voice soft. “Do you know?” 

“I know,” the man confirmed, nodding slowly as his eyes closed. “Greta...Greta took her. She’s...with Greta’s mother. But don’t know where...she lives.” 

Greta. Levi knew that name. It was the name of one of the maids. You looked to be friends with her. 

“Thank you,” he said, very sincere, before standing back up. More determined than ever, he made a beeline for his horse, a plan of action already formulating in his mind. He could make do with the information given to him. It was all he needed. 

He was going to find you. 

-

The sun hung low in the sky as May and Greta made up Greta’s old bed for you. 

You had insisted on sleeping anywhere else, even the floor, but Greta had already set her mind on sharing a bed with her mother. 

“I shared a bed with one of the other maids all the time, whenever we felt like it,” she told you. “I actually like it. It’s nice having another person there with you.” 

You still felt a little guilty but stayed silent, and opted instead to watch the sun lower through the window of Greta’s childhood bedroom after being shooed off. 

Greta and her mother chattered amongst themselves and you didn’t have the heart to join in just yet. You felt so drained after the day’s events that you couldn’t muster up the energy they had. 

What kept you so anxious was also the thought of having to stay under your father’s thumb. 

It was maddening to know that after everything, he still had your life in his hands. To be a highborn lady was to be in shackles. 

A plan was starting to formulate in your mind, one where you could fake your death and run away and find work as a maid or maybe even a governess. Greta could help and confirm that you’d been taken, never to be seen again. You could grab your clothes that you’d discarded, if they were still around, and maybe douse them in animal blood or something, to really sell it. 

But your plan was cut short with a pounding at the front door downstairs. The knocking was so intense that all three of you froze and looked between each other, fear prickling your spines. 

When the door clearly sounded like it was trying to be opened, May sprang into action and ran downstairs, which kickstarted your adrenaline. You ran after her, afraid for her possibly getting hurt, reaching out for her to try and stop her from going any farther. 

“May, no!” you hissed, eyes on the front door that was now in view. Someone was slamming into it, the lock jiggling unsteadily, until it finally gave in. 

You were paralyzed in fear as the door flew open, but fear gave way to shock at the sight of Captain Levi at the entrance, looking frazzled. You would have never predicted you’d ever see him as anything other than composed or angry. 

As soon as your eyes locked, you ran to him. 

“Captain Levi!” 

He stopped you before you could throw your arms around him and, at first, you felt embarrassed by it, taking it as a rejection. 

It wasn’t until he started examining you, hands lifting and twisting your arms and turning your face this way and that, that you felt your heart warm up. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. He was cupping your face, holding your jaw familiar as his eyes scanned your face for any signs of injury, and that frazzled look he held only softened when his eyes finally met yours. 

You shook your head slowly, keeping his gaze, hands shyly reaching up to cover his over your jaw. 

“I’m not hurt,” you whispered. “Just scared.” 

Levi frowned and reluctantly let go of your face, but his hands didn’t travel far. He rested them on your shoulders while your hands gently gripped his forearms, the two of you in your own little bubble. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he promised you, sounding so earnest. “Nobody can hurt you while I’m here.” 

Your bottom lip quivered, emotional at the thought of him willingly protecting you, but also emotional at the more sinister situation at hand. 

“My father can,” you told him, squeezing his forearms as the words left your mouth. “Greta says he’ll be looking for me soon. I can’t escape him.” 

Levi’s eyes hardened at that, grip also tightening on your shoulders, before he groaned and stepped away from you to run a hand over his face. 

“Erwin said the same thing to me,” he admitted, pacing back and forth. He briefly looked towards Greta and her mother, then to the now broken front door, and blankly stared at them before muttering, “I’ll fix that.” 

He turned back to you, arms crossed, as he took on a look of deep concentration. It was only there for a few moments before he snapped out of it, holding your gaze as he seemed to come to a conclusion. 

“You can’t be under your father’s control once you’re married,” he pointed out. 

At first, you didn’t understand. You raised a brow, a little peeved he was bringing it up, and nodded once. 

“I suppose so…,” you agreed, a hint of a frown on your face. “But I’m assuming we won’t be getting married after this, so I’m kind of shit out of luck.” It was the first time you’d really sworn like that in front of Levi. In front of anyone. It was nice. 

Levi tensed up a little and broke his eye contact with you to look away, and you could have sworn he looked a little flustered. There was a hint of pink at the tips of his ears, which shocked you.

“What?” you pressed, also feeling a bit of heat creep into your face. 

This wasn’t happening. No way this was happening. 

Levi hadn’t wanted to marry you even when it was basically required of him. 

Your hopeless romantic little heart was just playing tricks on you. He wasn’t possibly going to suggest… 

“I gave my word and I don’t intend on going back on it,” he said, still not looking at you, ears still pink. “Got any better ideas?” 

“Captain Levi…,” you began, but then trailed off, not knowing what to say, until finally you managed out, “You don’t have to do this.” 

He scoffed a little, eyes finally flickering back to you. Tentatively, he stepped forward until he was right in front of you again. You stayed perfectly still as he lifted a hand to place it on top of your head, giving you a small pat before ruffling up your hair. 

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, taking his hand away to reach into the pocket of his coat. 

And then your favorite novel was in your hands, a little more crumpled up than usual but basically intact. 

Tears sprang to your eyes and you hugged the book to your chest gratefully, looking to Levi with nothing but adoration. 

At that moment, it was all you owned in the world. You didn’t even own the clothes on your back. 

“That was really nice,” you choked out, gazing down at the book again with a small smile. 

Levi stepped forward again, closing the distance between you as he rested a hand on your shoulder again. 

“Let me protect you,” he said, tone filled with an air of finality that you couldn’t argue with. “I know I don’t have to.” 

He didn’t have to say the actual words; you understood what he meant. 

I want to. 

-

Marriage was all about compromise. 

In the end, Levi didn’t get to prolong his nuptials, since marrying you had to be done quickly. However, it also had to be done in secret. So, at the very least, you figured he at least got half of his wishes respected. 

The moment the ink was dry on the certificate, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You shed your maiden name to gain a new surname, fully protected from your father now and fully backed by the Survey Corps. It was your 30th day of knowing Levi. Your 1st day of being married. 

You took in a deep breath as Erwin took the document from you to sign as a witness, and you turned to Levi with a small and timid smile, which he actually tried to return. It was brief, but it was appreciated. And when he lifted his hand to pat your head affectionately, you melted a little.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a big wedding like you wanted,” he murmured, eyes staring at you with a hint of remorse. “I should have never made you agree to that before.” 

A half-smile tugged at one corner of your mouth and you shook your head, nudging your shoulder to his playfully. 

“I never really wanted to have a big wedding,” you admitted to him. “I just wanted to have a special day for myself. And for my husband, of course. Didn’t have to be a big thing. It just needed to be special.” 

Levi seemed to lighten up at that, giving another brief smile before murmuring, “That’s a relief.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked, but he didn’t respond, choosing instead to stand up and offer a hand to help you on your feet as well. 

You smoothed down the cream dress Greta had so kindly let you borrow and followed Levi out the door, head held a little higher now that you were an official Ackerman and nothing else. Instead of going to Commander Erwin’s office to go over a few next steps like originally planned, you found yourself following Levi outside. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, puzzled, but Levi scoffed a little and turned to look at you from over his shoulder. 

“If you could just be a little patient, I promise you’ll find out soon enough,” he said. 

It was a beautiful day, you had to admit. The spring temperature was perfect and you basked in the sunlight, feeling freer than you’d ever felt before. 

You stepped onto the grass in the courtyard, eyes towards the sky, and it wasn’t until you heard several people clear their throat that you tilted your head down to take a look. 

Your heart nearly stopped as you saw Erlo, Greta, May, and Charlie, and some of Levi’s friends, sitting on the grass, a spread of what looked like a marvelous lunch in front of them. 

Shouts of congratulations were passed around and you lit up at the sight, heart feeling full as you stumbled over while dragging Levi along. 

You turned to him, eyes bright and excited, still not quite understanding. 

“What is this?” you asked, looking between your bubble of friends and your brand new spouse. 

Levi looked a little uncomfortable, but in that cute way, and Greta beat him to the punch with the answer. 

“It’s your wedding day, so we’re celebrating, of course!” she laughed, then nodded towards Levi with a cunning grin. “It was your husband’s idea.” 

Levi’s entire face flushed at the term but he also looked murderous at being found out. 

You grinned at him, feeling warmed at his gesture, and you made a mental note to pull him aside later for a real thank you. 

At that moment, you made do by sneaking a kiss to his cheek, fully appreciating the way he got flustered. 

-

Erwin had made up a new room for you at base and, after a full day’s worth of celebrating your wedding day, you were ready to fall into bed. 

The room was right next to Levi’s, which you appreciated. It seemed funny, almost, since of course spouses typically shared a room, but under these circumstances, that wasn’t very likely. 

You cared for Levi and you could see that he at least cared for you in some ways, but those feelings would need to be nurtured with time. 

The two of you were in front of your bedroom door, with you yawning up a storm, and Levi grumbling about getting you to bed. 

You burst into your room and made a beeline for your bed, not bothering to really look around at your new room or even change out of your clothes. As soon as you were on the bed, you felt your drowsiness start to overtake you. 

Before you passed out, you peeked over at Levi, who was getting situated at a desk. 

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?” you asked, yawning again, and Levi turned to look at you briefly. 

“Not for a while,” he answered finally. 

You frowned at that but didn’t argue with him, your heart bubbling over with so many questions and feelings that you just couldn’t hold in anymore. 

“Do you still dislike me?” you blurted out, face heating up at your lack of filter. 

Levi raised a brow, pointedly looking towards the new ring on your finger. Then, his gaze softened, and he leaned back in the chair he sat in. 

“No,” he answered. “And I was wrong for judging you before. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance sooner.” 

You stayed quiet for a moment, but kept your eyes on Levi, no matter how hard it was. 

“Do you think you’ll fall in love with me one day, now that we’re married?” 

You couldn't stop that question from tumbling out either, but you were too curious to feel embarrassed. 

Levi’s ears flushed pink, a cute new trait you were catching onto. He looked away from you briefly, clearly trying to find the right words, and he took so long to respond that you felt your heart start to sink. 

But then he stood from his seat and moved to kneel beside the bed, a hand reaching up to smooth some hair out of your face.

“Let me focus on protecting you first,” he said. 

His eyes were the softest they’d ever been. They gave you another answer. 

“I’m going to love you,” you promised him. You still couldn’t admit that you were actively falling in love. Not to him, not right now. But another time. 

“I don’t deserve that, after how I acted,” he whispered. 

“I’ll always forgive you,” you whispered back. “And I’m going to love you.” 

Levi moved his hand from your head to tuck you into the sheets a little better, avoiding your gaze. Neither one of you said anything for a minute, a comfortable silence falling between you like that afternoon in the parlor room. 

As you began to drift off, Levi’s soft voice filled your ears with one final promise. One that was meant more for him than for you. 

“I’ll figure out how to love.” 

You were too tired to notice how the sheets smelled like Levi. You were too tired to realize that the room was clearly already lived in and had typical possessions of a squad captain, from ODM gear to a desk clearly stacked up with documents. 

You’d been too tired to remember that your bedroom door was the right one and not the left one. You’d been too tired to notice that you’d opened the left door. 

Levi was too besotted by you to correct your mistake. 

Somewhere, a grandfather clock chimed as midnight struck. 

[robinofinashiro]

@megumitodoroki: “headcannons (maybe a drabble if you want??) for yan tamaki and yan kirishima with a pregnant darling? ( i saw the hawks and bakugo one, i really liked!!!)” 

characters: yandere kirishima ejirou, tamaki amajiki x fem! reader

request status: OPENED / all fandoms I write for are pinned to the top of my page as well as my rules! feel free to request as you’d like! just please be respectful of my rules and if you have any questions, personally message me!

kirishima ejirou: 

oooh, fuck, really? you got pregnant with HIS baby? fuck. i mean, kirishima is a great husband, for the MOST part. his issue 99.9999% of the time is that he’s too fucking clingy and it shows. even if he isn’t laying it on thick, everyone can see the way he is around you. 

lets say you weren’t home when he found out. you went through the five stages of grief when you found out. the stick was in your hand as you stared at the wall in panic. you were in no mindset to be carrying a child and you knew there would be consequences the longer you waited to tell him. 

at first, you planned to end it all and just put you and the fetus out of misery but then you realized.....kiri locked all the knifes, sharp objects, and anything you could think of hurting yourself with away. you knew regardless of what you were thinking, you were going to have his kid whether you wanted too or not. 

when kiri came home, you were still in the same position in the bathroom and holding onto the stick in your hand. when he realized what it was, he let out a high pitched scream. you’re pregnant !! like this wasn’t something he was expecting to happen just yet but here you were !! pregnant with his kid. 

the first thing he did was make an appointment for you. he needed to know how far along you were and when your projected birth date was. the doctor hadn’t been able to pinpoint what the sex was yet but he didn’t care !! his child was going to be the next red riot !! he was going to make sure of it !! 

months into the pregnancy, he started to fix up the nursery. while you were still miserable in the fact that you were pregnant, you knew you got nothing out of loathing from the news and tried to look at the silver linings in all of it. maybe kiri would lay off the rules and give you some freedom. he was already acting different. 

when you were in pain, he would be at your call. when he was at work, he made sure someone was there with you. what if something went wrong? he couldn’t trust you on your own. when your mood swings were bad, he would listen to you for once and keep his distance when you asked. when you were starving, he would get whatever it is you wanted. 

the nursery was red riot themed. little linings of red everywhere with black incorporated along with it. he had small figures of himself in the crib and on small shelfs around the room. kiri made sure to put pics of the two of you in the room so the kid could see the love you both had for each other. he even went out of his way to make mini outfits of his hero uniform that fit every time he assumed the kid would have a growth spurt. 

lets say you end up finding out that you were having not only a boy, they were going to be twin boys, kiri fucking fainted. he doubled everything in the nursery and even built an extra room for the second baby. kiri was ecstatic to say the least. he never thought he’d get twins !! you on the other hand went through another phase of grief knowing that you were carrying twins and that meant that kiri was going to be home more than you wanted him to be. 

when you finally go into labor, kiri dropped everything he was doing and fucking SPEED RAN to the hospital. when he got there, you were already under epidural and trying to calm yourself down. the pain was unbearable, even with the epidural. he could see the pain on your face and wanted to cry right along with you. you were even holding onto him, hoping that he did something right for once and tried to calm you down. 

when you finally gave birth, kiri bawled like a child. they were both out within a few minutes and while you held one baby, kiri held the other. they had his black hair and your skin tone. he had never seen three beautiful people in his life and here you were, his wife and kids. his life was complete. 

tamaki amajiki: 

okay cool, tamaki is not horrible yandere so you’re relatively safe for the most part. the thing with tamaki that makes it unbearable to live with is that you can’t do shit. he’s terrified of you even breathing the wrong way tbh. he won’t let you leave the house bc he’s afraid something will happen to you. 

the day you found out you were pregnant with his baby, it was bittersweet. you were excited bc although he had abducted and was holding you hostage in his home, tamaki as a person was not a horrible person. he wasn’t mirio and he def wasn’t nejire. you had been feeling sick for a while and every morning you woke up you ran to the bathroom vomiting your guts out. 

you refused to tell tamaki bc you knew he would go into full panic if you did. you just had told mirio in secret to bring you a test and drop it off. when he did, you quickly ran to the bathroom and took the test. you were clawing the counter in a bout of anxiety and as soon as the clear blue test rang up positive, you felt dizzy in the head and fell on top of mirio who had offered to stay. 

he quickly fanned you as he basically screamed to tamaki to get his ass home. tamaki had dropped everything he was doing and ran to his house. he had no idea why mirio was there and bc the emergency was abt you, he booked it even faster. when he finally got there, you were chugging back a hydroflask full of water and murmured to him the news. 

tamaki basically passed out three different times hearing the news. it took mirio, a call to nejire, and yourself to get him out of it. when he finally stopped fainting and realized what you had said, he gave you a long hug, murmuring that finally it happened. he had been wanting kids for so long, as weird as it sounds. he was nervous wreck almost all the time but he wanted to continue his family line with you and hopefully they ended up with your personality. 

he scheduled your first doctor appointment a few weeks later and at that appointment, the two of you had found out the exact date and gender. you were having a baby girl !! tamaki was dumbfounded. he was expecting a boy but he wasn’t complaining. he was getting a mini you !! another to love and take care of. that meant that no hero course for his baby girl. nope !! business or support course at the very least. 

her nursery consisted of small sun eater figures and outfits. every now and again, he would had lemillion and nejire-chan themed things. your daughter would have mini outfits of all three of them and would have plushies of the three of them in the crib. hell, even the crib set was the big three themed. he and mirio had painted a mural for her and added photos of all four of you to make sure that even if his daughter didn’t have anyone to be her friend, the four of you would always be there. 

he didn’t take your change in moods well. frankly, he was terrified of you. there would be days where you would unleash your anger like never before and other days, you’d be sobbing to him. the food you did make though was AMAZING. it was a weird combination that always turned out amazing at the end. 

fat gum and kirishima were surprised but excited to hear the news. they bought her a bunch of red riot and fat gum themed clothes as well and fat gum would even bring you food when he was in the area. you were so important to tamaki and he knew that so he had to make sure that you were also important to him too. tamaki upon telling mirio and nejire that you were pregnant told them they were the god parents so they were almost just as protective over you like tamaki was. 

the day you gave birth, tamaki was home with you. you were just laying in bed when your water broke and he drove you to the hospital like he was in fast and furious. you were taken back by his actions but he practically screamed at the nurses as soon as you arrived to help you. he made sure to scream to them to give you epidural the minute you asked and if any of them even slipped up once, tamaki would have blood on his hands a few days later, making sure he took care of those useless nurses and doctors. tamaki in this setting was not one to mess with, that’s to say the least. 

when you finally gave birth, he cried a bit but not as much as you expected. the time he did cry was when he held his daughter and looked at the two of you. his life was perfect. you had a healthy daughter and you were relatively okay yourself post-birth. the only other time he cried was when he made the three-way call to mirio, fat gum, and nejire to tell them you had finally given birth and all of you were okay. 

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 1

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: What He Is

It was an afternoon after they'd both returned to reality when Ruan Nanzhu figured out that Lin Qiushi had likely detected his little secret.

Ruan Nanzhu had nothing to do that day, and was flipping through a book on the balcony. And when he found an interesting line, he had read it out loud to Lin Qiushi.

He said, "when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes back at you."

Lin Qiushi was napping at first, but when he heard this, he mumbled back, "anything you do unto the abyss will be reflected back at you, is that it?"

"Probably."

Ruan Nanzhu didn't think too much about it, leaning down to kiss Lin Qiushi on the mouth.

Then he heard Lin Qiushi say, "then maybe I should pull my zipper down at you…"

Ruan Nanzhu went still for a moment before chuckling quietly. In that moment, he understood that Lin Qiushi knew everything.

"That's right," was how Ruan Nanzhu answered. "So you should treat the abyss better."

Regarding the oddities in their life—at first, because all his attention had been on Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi hadn’t noticed. After Ruan Nanzhu returned though, all these oddities began gradually floating up to the surface, like icebergs hidden under the sea.

In Lin Qiushi's memories, he did not smoke. Even if he carried smokes on him, it was for the convenience of handing to others in his line of work. But after leaving the doors, he became fully an addict. He could smoke multiple packs a day, and felt none of the disparity of a first-time smoker.

And the family that had once been so distant began constantly contacting him, saying all this stuff like how much they worried about him. Bai Ming too—he was supposed to be Ruan Nanzhu's good friend, but now was acting like he’d known Lin Qiushi for years…

All these things, Lin Qiushi took in without looking in too deeply.

The answers to some questions weren't all that important to have. As long as Ruan Nanzhu was by his side, he felt like it was enough. As for what Ruan Nanzhu was…

Lin Qiushi reached out and caught his lover's earlobe in a pinch. Leaning his face in close, he murmured against Ruan Nanzhu's cheek: "My dear, what in the world are you?"

Ruan Nanzhu was reading, and glanced up at Lin Qiushi. Suddenly, he smiled.

"I'm your milk tea," he said.

Lin Qiushi, "…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "aren't you going to ask me why I'm your milk tea?"

Lin Qiushi lifted a brow. "The last time I heard this joke I was still a virgin. And now I'm already a mother of three."

And the two began to laugh, the atmosphere filled with the feeling of joy.

Ruan Nanzhu thought at first that Lin Qiushi would pursue the question, but Lin Qiushi only stretched and got up off the bed. He said he was going to take a shower, and ended the topic there.

Ruan Nanzhu watched Lin Qiushi go and parted his lips, mouthing a few words. Had Lin Qiushi turned right then, he would have found Ruan Nanzhu telling him one thing—I'm the door.

I'm the door. That's right. What Ruan Nanzhu said was, I'm the door.

He was the twelfth door.

But the truth was, prior to the night-time riot of a hundred ghosts, Ruan Nanzhu had not been aware of this fact. His memories were flawless, as if he truly was the leader of Obsidian. As if he—having started entering doors as a teenager, having surmounted countless obstacles and tribulations, and having finally made it past the tenth door with great difficulty—was a completely normal person. Ruan Nanzhu had possessed no memories regarding the doors, and had also been of the firm belief that he was a simple human.

This firm belief of his, after the night of a hundred ghosts had ended for him and Lin Qiushi, had been abruptly shattered.

Back then, the hours of the day were getting longer and longer, while their nights got shorter. The time Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi had together too had entered a countdown. When night no longer came, Ruan Nanzhu thought he was never going to see Lin Qiushi again—he’d gone crazy looking for the key and trying to escape, but very faintly, he’d also realized that some things appeared to have slipped out of his control…

What he hadn't told Lin Qiushi was that he also saw ghosts during the day. At first, this was because he didn't want Lin Qiushi to worry. After, it was because he realized these ghosts wouldn't hurt him. Terrifying ghouls lived on every corner, and even when Ruan Nanzhu opened his own suitcase, he would find the horrifying Hako Onna hidden inside—she had on such an innocent expression when Ruan Nanzhu dug her out, was all.

From the initial shock tinged with terror to the cold numbness that followed, Ruan Nanzhu went through about half a month like this.

By the time he truly comprehend that he would never see Lin Qiushi again, Ruan Nanzhu could already coolly sock the lady-ghost perched at the head of his bed onto the ground, telling her icily to not squat above his head, that he wouldn't grow tall this way…And perhaps he was seeing things, but he thought that after he said this, the lady-ghost looked a little bit wronged.

Angrily, Ruan Nanzhu had thought why are you feeling wronged? I haven't even had a chance to feel wronged.

At that point, though the situation around him was growing increasingly eerie, Ruan Nanzhu was still completely ignorant. He had no idea what was happening, and even thought that this was the doors punishing him. That was what he believed until one day, a little spirit in red guided him to a particular location.

When Ruan Nanzhu got there, he instantly recognized it as the apartment where Lin Qiushi had once lived. Only, the apartment complex hadn't been fully constructed yet, and it was all still ancient builds of tongzilou.

That little spirit-ghost was standing on the fifth floor, waving to Ruan Nanzhu. Ruan Nanzhu looked up at her, frowning.

"The fifth floor? What have you brought me here for?" He observed the ghost's appearance a little more closely, and said in disbelief, "you're not Satchan, are you?"

As soon as he said this, the little ghost before him smiled shyly…though, her making such an expression with that ghastly pale face wasn't cute at all.

Ruan Nanzhu was in a hurry to leave, but had no lead on the key still. So he figured he'd try any last resort, and went to see exactly what Satchan wanted to show him.

Ruan Nanzhu went up to the fifth floor and headed toward the room at the very end. He pushed open the barely-shut door, and found an abode. There was nobody in the room, only an old and dilapidated television sitting at the head of the bed. It seemed to be playing some kind of program.

Ruan Nanzhu's gaze fell on that television, and a bit of shock came into his eyes. He even thought he was seeing things as he sped over to the screen. Only then could he be certain that the TV really was showing him a young Lin Qiushi.

Lin Qiushi was walking on a small path. Two people appeared at his side, and they were both people Ruan Nanzhu recognized—Xiong Qi and Xiao Ke, whom they'd met in their first door. Ruan Nanzhu held his breath, eyes stuck to the image on the screen.

"Where are we?" The young Lin Qiushi looked very youthful, and harbored terror in his dark eyes. He carefully asked next, "who are you guys?"

The images kept playing, and Ruan Nanzhu watched it all. What the television played was how Lin Qiushi passed his first door without Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu's fingertips grazed the icy screen, gently caressing Lin Qiushi's cheek through the glass. Even this young, Lin Qiushi was so easily entrancing.

He was just like raw, undiscovered ore; anyone who knew true value could see that there were dazzling treasures to be had inside.

So smart and brave and calm. Someone who wasn't blindly kind and yet maintained a bottom line—Ruan Nanzhu thought that under any and all circumstances, his lover still so thoroughly captured all attention.

The program on the television became a TV show, and it was all about Lin Qiushi. It was about how he entered doors, how he met a group of friends, how he took over Obsidian…

Ruan Nanzhu watched obsessively. A thought even popped into his mind, that why, when Lin Qiushi was going through all this, had he not been by Lin Qiushi's side? If only he could be with him, then how wondrous an experience that would be…And then Ruan Nanzhu startled back to attention, having detected his own odd state.

He had been at Lin Qiushi's side, and had gone through the test of the eleventh door with Lin Qiushi. But if that was so, then why had such a thought come to his mind just now?

Ruan Nanzhu could sense that something was wrong.

And that sense of wrongness grew broader, following the development of the TV show, as if an unstoppable pandemic.

Ruan Nanzhu saw Lin Qiushi's family in the show, and saw that the way they interacted was exactly the same as how he and his own family interacted. Ruan Nanzhu even saw Bai Ming, who ought to have been his own friend. On TV however, he was Lin Qiushi's sworn brother…

Lin Qiushi slowly grew up. Out of youth, he became a grown, mature man. The people around him came and went, yet his initial resolve never wavered, as if any darkness that was cast upon him couldn't even leave a shadow.

After watching Lin Qiushi for three days and three nights straight, Ruan Nanzhu finally realized something…He, didn't seem to be human.

He hadn't so much as rested in three day's time, but he didn't feel hungry. Nor did he feel tired. He was still full of energy, and had maintained his optimal state.

Time was null where he was concerned.

The ghost who had brought him here squatted beside him, staring up with big eyes

Ruan Nanzhu had been wary of her at first, but later grew exasperated. He said, "what are you showing this to me for? You want to tell me I'm not human?"

Satchan twisted her head, and said nothing as she watched Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu had more to say, but Satchan pointed a finger at the screen, indicating Ruan Nanzhu should keep watching.

Ruan Nanzhu thought, it wasn't like things could get worse. So he'd keep watching. He couldn't leave, and he couldn't see Lin Qiushi—it hardly mattered at all if he kept watching.

So Ruan Nanzhu kept watching as Lin Qiushi's time ticked on forward.

He was like a voyeur, peeking into every corner of Lin Qiushi's life after Lin Qiushi began entering doors. He watched Lin Qiushi cry, and he watched Lin Qiushi laugh. Watched his brilliant smile when he made new acquaintances, watched him sob himself mute when he lost a dear friend. Time ticked on bit by bit, and the Ruan Nanzhu who didn't need to rest had already lost all concept of the thing.

Finally, the images underwent a decisive change.

Ruan Nanzhu watched Lin Qiushi enter his twelfth door, and when the scenery twisted, Lin Qiushi appeared in a familiar rental apartment.

And at the same time, the scene around Ruan Nanzhu too began to change. Ancient decor retreated, and his surroundings became identical to what was on TV.

On the television, Lin Qiushi lied deeply asleep in bed. A dark shadow appeared beside him. There was no discernible shape to the shadow. It was only a clump of dark umbra. The shadow extended a finger and very carefully touched Lin Qiushi's cheek. It went from forehead to nose to lips, all exceedingly gentle, as if it was scared of waking the sleeping Lin Qiushi.

Then the shadow's form began to change. Black retreated from his body as he began to look more and more like a person, until at one particular point, he looked completely identical to the Lin Qiushi lying on the bed.

But the shadow didn't seem to want to have the same face as Lin Qiushi, and so quickly changed its appearance again. The moment the shadow decided on its final form, Ruan Nanzhu, who was watching all this from outside the television, chuckled bitterly—that shadow looked exactly the same as he did.

That's right. The shadow was Ruan Nanzhu.

Had it been anybody else, seeing this might have driven them crazy. But Ruan Nanzhu remained calm. Honestly, watching Lin Qiushi's life these past days, he'd already fathomed such a guess. It was just that seeing it with his own eyes now was still a little bit shocking.

On the television, Ruan Nanzhu smiled so longingly at Lin Qiushi. Then he began to fade, disappearing from Lin Qiushi's side.

And when Lin Qiushi woke up the next morning, the first thing he discovered was that Chestnut wouldn't let him hold it anymore.

The cat that had been so attached to him actually hissed and puffed up its fur at him, as if it didn't recognize him at all. And cat-slave Lin Qiushi, after seeing such a thing, was at a complete loss for what to do. Against the cat perched up on high ground with such a look of disdain on its face, Lin Qiushi could only mope, saying, "Chestnut, why don't you want daddy anymore? Chestnut?"

Once Ruan Nanzhu saw Lin Qiushi in such a state, his shoulders began to tremble. And then hearty guffaws were spilling out, because he knew that the story that belonged to him and Lin Qiushi was about to begin.

Sure enough, a few days later, Lin Qiushi opened a door.

The inside of the door ought to have been a sight he'd already seen, but because his memories had been altered, his gaze was completely strange. And this time, the path that he walked on had a new, unfamiliar face.

Ruan Baijie in women's clothes shuffled pathetically up to Lin Qiushi with tears in her eyes, asking Lin Qiushi where they were.

And when Lin Qiushi asked for Ruan Nanzhu's name, it was the three words “Ruan Baijie” that came out of Ruan Nanzhu's lips.

This was how they met.

The Ruan Nanzhu back then had also thought he was a regular human. He'd gotten his wish; in another way, he'd become an addition to Lin Qiushi's journey, and became an integral character who could not be removed from Lin Qiushi's life.

This was very satisfying to Ruan Nanzhu. Only, everything had to come to an end. Even the twelfth door had to end.

Ruan Nanzhu had still not recovered any memories of when he'd been inhuman. He only knew that he wasn't human, but what in the world was he? Ruan Nanzhu was still thinking of this question when he glanced at Satchan blinking up at him.

He suddenly said, "I'm not the NPC guarding the twelfth door, am I?"

Satchan peered at Ruan Nanzhu, not speaking, but Ruan Nanzhu spotted a touch of disdain in her gaze.

Ruan Nanzhu, "…" Ah fuck, it seemed he was.

To tell the truth, wiping his own memories to the point where it was likely he'd never get it back seemed to Ruan Nanzhu like something he was capable of. And now, he'd obtained his objective; he'd gotten the affection of the one he loved.

"I'm a bit happy about this, what do I do." There was nobody here, only endless ghosts, and Ruan Nanzhu sat in the dark softly grinning. "I just think about all that we've been through, and I feel so blissed out."

Satchan naturally wouldn't give him an answer.

"But now comes the problem. How do I get out?" Ruan Nanzhu lifted his head, looking around at the unfamiliar apartment. "I can get out, right?"

He thought about it for a moment before looking at Satchan once again.

"What else do you know?"

Satchan peered at a clock on the wall.

Ruan Nanzhu, "the clock?" He stood up, watching the ongoing, twelve-numbered clock, sinking deep into thought. Then he took the clock down.

He took the cover off the clock, and when he found nothing inside, pressed the button that controlled the hour hand, starting to turn it. Suddenly, he thought of something, and asked Satchan one last question: "That's right…When Qiushi and I crossed the doors, if I didn't successfully pass, would I have died?"

Satchan's expression at this went a bit strange, looking slightly like pity, and also like she was looking at a mental patient. In the end, she nodded.

Ruan Nanzhu snickered, thinking this really was his style—everything had to be done to perfection, and approximate reality as much as possible.

Ruan Nanzhu turned the clock. Moments later, two keys fell to the ground. He picked them up, read the words on them, and couldn't help but smile again.

Illusory life, an authentic death. No matter what kind of world Lin Qiushi wanted, Ruan Nanzhu would give it to him.

He could choose a cruel reality, or he could choose a beautiful dream. And the power to choose, Ruan Nanzhu had already set in Lin Qiushi's hands.

Only now that he thought about it, it was all probably superfluous; Ruan Nanzhu hardly needed to think to know Lin Qiushi's answer. He grabbed the key and left the building. He opened the door and found only one door in the hallway. That door was filled with gentle white light. Ruan Nanzhu approached and stepped inside.

The world-line changed accordingly.

The members of Obsidian, who first had no memory of a person named Ruan Nanzhu, felt a little extra something in their minds. So when they saw Ruan Nanzhu coming downstairs in the mansion, nobody looked shocked—Ye Niao even called Lin Qiushi in a state of excitement, telling Lin Qiushi that Ruan-ge was back.

On the other end of the line, Lin Qiushi was of course ecstatic.

Ruan Nanzhu, on the other hand, sat in the living room, silently observing his surroundings to make sure that it was no different from the ones in his memories.

"Ruan-ge, you're finally back," Ye Niao was saying to him. "Don't you know how hard Lin-ge had it this past year?"

"Year?" Ruan Nanzhu startled. "It's already been a year?"

"Yeah," Ye Niao said. "It's already been a year."

Ruan Nanzhu thought that it was a good thing he didn't hesitate. Had he waited any longer, Lin Qiushi's kids would already be three by the time he came out…

The two reunited in joyous embrace.

Lin Qiushi actually never asked why Ruan Nanzhu was only showing up now. The truth was, as long as Ruan Nanzhu came out, Lin Qiushi would never fault him.

But even immersed in happiness, Ruan Nanzhu quickly discovered one unfortunate thing. Ever since he came out of the door, the twelfth door for everybody else appeared to have been sealed off. A paper seal was stuck on it, as if telling the outside that the door was now empty.

With Lin Qiushi's intellect, after linking such an incident to other oddities, it wasn't difficult to guess that Ruan Nanzhu wasn't human. When he realized this, Ruan Nanzhu felt a bit panicked. He couldn't be certain, after all, whether or not Lin Qiushi would mind. At the end of the day, questioning whether or not your lover was a door god didn't seem to be a particularly joyous occasion.

And so when Ruan Nanzhu took the phone that Lin Qiushi had been browsing the forums on, he'd closely observed Lin Qiushi's reaction. Only when he found nothing changed in his lover's expression—that Lin Qiushi didn't seem to have noticed at all—did Ruan Nanzhu let out a held breath.

Of course, only later did Ruan Nanzhu realize that it wasn't that Lin Qiushi didn't know, it was that he pretended not to know; he didn't care at all what Ruan Nanzhu was.

"So how did you befriend Bai Ming in the first place?" Lin Qiushi sat on the sofa, remote in hand and watching TV as he idly chatted with Ruan Nanzhu.

"He was in coincidental possession of a high-level door hint, and I needed to bring someone through. So we hooked up," Ruan Nanzhu answered.

Lin Qiushi twisted around to look at Ruan Nanzhu, saying, "so what's he coming to chat with me every day for?"

"Hey, can you two stop pretending like I'm not here, chattering away like that?" Bai Ming munched on the sunflower seeds that Ruan Nanzhu had just fried up, angry. "Go take your banter somewhere else! Also, it was love at first sight from me to you, Lin Qiushi, isn't that alright?"

"No," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Get your claws off him."

Bai Ming, "hmph. Selfish."

Lin Qiushi's lips curved up, saying nothing.

Bai Ming got up and took his leave, saying his dearest had texted, that they were getting dinner.

"He still has time to get dinner with you?" Lin Qiushi commented idly. "Isn't he busy with his new movie?"

"He is," Bai Ming sighed. "But I like him making movies. Have you seen his The Way of Kings? I won't lie to you, on that set, we—"

"Shut it," Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu said at the same time, both of them hitting pause on Bai Ming's dirty joke at top speed. They didn't want unfortunate images coming to mind when they were watching the movie, after all.

"Damn." Bai Ming flipped up his palms. "You two are just getting more and more alike."

"Is it bad to be alike?" Lin Qiushi asked.

"You like dating someone with a personality so similar to yours?" Bai Ming said.

"I do." Lin Qiushi started grinning, but his tone was perfectly serious as he spoke. "My personality's great, why wouldn't I like it?"

Bai Ming, "…" He'd realized the two of them were intentionally stuffing him dog food, and so turned and left promptly, cussing out the two bastards all the while.

Lin Qiushi and Ruan Nanzhu shared a hearty laugh. Then, watching each other, they found in each other's gazes a certain profound meaning. Only, within that meaning, there was also love that couldn't be concealed.

Why must some things be so clearly thought out? Lin Qiushi thought. As long as Ruan Nanzhu was by his side, it was enough.

[Ch. 139] | [Extra: Shameless Couple (1)]

[kingkatsuki]

Florescence | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

Here is my fic for the first @bnhabookclub​ event. Anyone is allowed to enter, please click here if you wanna join in!

Thanks to the lovely @leeswritingworld​ for reading through this for me and boosting my confidence on a near daily basis.💕

Warnings: 18+, non-con/dub-con, sex pollen(ish), PWP, pervy Kirishima.

Word Count: 5633.

Three times. Three times Kirishima had tried to show you how he felt but each time he felt like he got nothing in return. 

The first time you met Kirishima it was because he’d saved your life during an attack in Mustafu. A low-rate Villain had held you hostage during an attempted attack on the city. Your Flower Shop had been ransacked, the fact that the building was still standing was a miracle in itself.  Luckily, Ground Zero and Red Riot were nearby and managed to save all the civilians that had been caught in the crossfire, finding you trapped inside the shop, beams preventing you from escaping the destroyed shop. The way you’d looked at him that day played on repeat in the back of his mind daily. You’d looked so terrified when he’d first seen you against the counter, your hair framing your face as you looked to the ground, your knees pulled up to your chest to try and cocoon yourself. 

When you’d caught sight of your saviours, the relief that flooded your features was irreplaceable. Your wide eyes looking up at him gratefully as you clung to his waist, your head buried against his chest as tears began to slip down your cheeks. You’d thanked him, but then you tried to thank his partner, your arms curling around his broad shoulders as he hurled insults towards you, trying to shove you off him. Kirishima hadn’t done that. He’d held you tight in his arms as though you were the finest china, nervous that you might break. Nothing like his explosive best friend. “Thank you so much, Ground Zero. You’re my favourite hero.” Your words rang in Kirishima’s ears as he replayed the scene in his head. “You’re my favourite hero.”, it wasn’t him.

He’d managed to get your number after the incident, claiming it was to make sure that you were doing okay, giving you a lifeline where you could call if anything happened again. You’d given it up easily, giving him a reassuring smile as he took you home. Kirishima had to stop himself from oversharing every time he dropped you a message, not wanting to scare you off as his infatuation continued to grow. Most of his texts were simple ‘How are you doing?’, ‘Hope you’re having a good day?’, sometimes you’d text back immediately, other times it would take hours. He found himself staring at his phone as he checked for your response. Trying to tell himself not to double text, terrified of scaring you off. He couldn’t help it, he just wanted to be close to you, to see you again.

The second time he’d met up with you had been a week after the incident in Mustafu. Deciding to meet you at a local coffee shop since you’d yet to return to work, the incident still weighed heavy on your mind and your shop was back under construction. Kirishima decided the flowers that he was going to give you were going to be light purple lilacs. He’d researched online about their meaning and found out that they were given to signify a new love, perfect for the moment that someone feels love for the first time. Exactly how Kirishima felt having met you. He’d been so hopeful the first time he’d gifted them to you. 

Kirishima wished he could take your pain away, to be the one that made you feel safe and secure. When he stepped inside the quaint shop he noticed the way your eyes lit up at the sight of him, your cheeks darkening as you felt your skin become warm, blushing as he handed you the bouquet, immediately moving your nose down to inhale the scent. Happily bringing him into a warm hug as you accepted the gift, pride coursing through Kirishima’s body as he marvelled at your reaction. Once again you’d thanked him for saving your life, he immediately offered to buy you anything you wanted on the menu, hushing you as you tried to object. Red eyes watching as you spoke to him animatedly, your smile infectious as he tried desperately to make his staring less obvious which was easier said than done. He was completely enamoured by you. But like the first time you’d met, your thoughts immediately moved to his friend, asking how Ground Zero was and whether he’d be joining you. 

The third time he’d tried harder. Your shop was finally open again, he was hopeful when he stepped inside. The bell above the door chiming to signal his entrance, his eyes immediately glancing around the bright floral displays. The shop looked completely different now to when he’d last stepped inside to save you, almost unrecognisable now if it wasn’t for the array of flowers inside.

“Red Riot?” You smiled from behind the counter, your fingers stalling on the bouquet that you were currently making, “What brings you here?”

“I was just on patrol and thought I’d come and check out the new shop.” He smiled as he approached the counter, looking down at the arrangement you were working on. Bright orange flowers held between dark green foliage, “How are you doing?” His eyes softened as he stared at your face, you were so beautiful.

“I’m getting there, slowly.” You smiled wistfully, beginning to tie the bouquet with string to hold it together, picking out a paper to wrap it in.

“Well, I was wondering what flowers you’d give to someone to tell them you like them?” He rubbed the back of his head nervously as you smiled up at him.

“Looking to buy flowers for a girl?” You teased, leaning against the counter.

“Something like that.” His eyes roaming across the walls covered with flowers, different colours, different styles. There had to be something in here that would make you feel the same way, something that would show you how much he cared, how much you meant to him. 

“Well, you could try these.” You suggested, pointing down at the orange roses you’d just finished wrapping, “Orange roses symbolise desire, fascination, enthusiasm and energy.”

Is that what you thought about him? His heart began to race, nervous that you’d be able to see how much your words affected him. 

“They actually kinda remind me of Ground Zero,” Your fingers stroked along the petals delicately as you held the flowers up to your nose, inhaling their scent. 

Kirishima felt his heart drop. They reminded you of Ground Zero. Of course they did, why wouldn’t they? He’d been so kind and caring to you, checking in with you regularly. Sending you messages to make sure that you were doing okay and that your flower shop was going to be back in business. Asking whether you had enough money to get by, if he could help in any way. When was the last time Ground Zero had text you? Or even stopped by to show that he cared? 

Never. Kirishima cared.

“You don’t wanna take any flowers? What about the girl-” You looked up at him in confusion, blissfully ignorant of his feelings for you.

“I’ll come back.” Kirishima bit his tongue, turning around to leave the shop as you called out a ‘goodbye’ from behind the counter. 

That seemed to be the answer, that you didn’t want him. You wanted his best friend, but Kirishima needed a way to show you how wrong you were. He was the perfect guy for you, not Ground Zero, you’d soon realise.

In hindsight, googling ‘how to make someone fall in love with you’ wasn’t one of Kirishima’s brightest ideas, but he was running out of options. How was he supposed to make you see that he was perfect for you? Not anyone else, not his best friend, him. The search brought up article after article about how to woo someone, how to slip your way into their heart and make them fall in love with you. Some of the answers made him scoff as he scrolled further down the search engine. 

“The more you interact positively with someone, the more they'll like you. Yeah right-” He mumbled to himself, continuing further and further through the searches. So many pointless answers. Telling him to look in the mirror and repeat things he liked about himself first, to buy them gifts, flowers, to love himself first. It was all ridiculous, how would any of this work when it’s exactly what he was doing already.

His eyes caught sight of a particular link as he paused scrolling.

‘How to trick someone into loving you. Loving ways to manipulate someone into loving you.’ his fingers hovering over the track-pad as he clicked through. 

The first option was ridiculous, making him almost click back out of the page. ‘Stare into someone’s eyes for sixty seconds to induce feelings similar to love.’ Yeah right. He’d already done that, for way more than sixty seconds. It didn’t work. The next suggestion was to listen, and Kirishima already knew he excelled at that. Listening to you drone on about his best friend while he sat right in front of you. One of the adverts on the side of the page caught his eye as he went to scroll further.

A black flower that looked very similar to a rose, but had black seeds inside the centre. The advert had the caption ‘The easiest way to find out someone’s true feelings for you’.

Immediately moving to click the link, Kirishima was taken to a different website, the page a dark grey as he began to scroll through the article. The website claimed that this flower would induce the feelings of love and affection to the opposite sex. All you had to do is give the appropriate flower to your suitor and they would fall in love. Maybe falling in love was a bit extreme, Kirishima thought as he continued to read the article, but maybe it would be the push you needed to realise that he was perfect for you. The more he read the more it, the more it seemed like this could be another failed attempt to show you how much he loved you, the disadvantages seemed to be if it didn’t work it would just make you feel nauseous or sleepy. It didn’t seem like a bad thing, I mean, you’d feel better after anyway? And what a small price to pay for true love.

Looking more in depth, it seemed like this flower was only available at specialist florists. Kirishima immediately typed the address into his phone, mapping out how long it would take for him to get there. If he left now maybe he’d be able to catch them before they closed. The idea finally set in stone.

He was going to make you see, make you realise that he was the perfect guy for you. That you were made for each other. 

Kirishima was so excited to see your reaction, the fact that he’d found a flower that you didn’t sell in your shop, that summed up all his feelings for you. This could be the start of a beautiful relationship between you both. Imagining what your face would look like when you saw the gift he’d bought for you, knowing how much you loved flowers he was excited to see your reaction. 

Maybe the flowers would have the opposite to the desired effect and would instead send you to sleep, it wouldn’t be too out of character to think that. The florist had spoken about the pollen affecting people in different ways. It was a risk and after trying everything else Kirishima had decided to take it. The worst that could happen was that they wouldn’t do anything and you’d think he was just buying you flowers to be nice, as per usual. The chivalrous best friend, friend zoned again. Kirishima raised his hand up to the door to knock for you, standing expectantly with the flowers in his hands. He was still dressed in his full hero costume having finished a tedious shift before coming straight to you from the florist. 

When you opened the door he couldn’t help but see your features falter slightly, obviously hoping that it was someone else, trying to hide your disappointment as you gave him a smile.

“R-Red Riot?” You hid yourself behind the door slightly, feeling slightly exposed in your choice of pyjamas. An oversized Ground Zero shirt paired with a pair of cotton panties. Tugging the material down your legs to hide more of your skin as you stared up at the hero, “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing after the attack?” He couldn’t help his eyes from trailing along your exposed skin, mapping out the expanse of your thighs as he watched them disappear under the shirt. Your feet shuffling on top of each other nervously as you pondered whether to invite him in.

Of course you were wearing a Ground Zero shirt. There was no way it would ever be one of his, even though he was the one that saved your life, that stopped anything bad from happening to you. He was your defender, your protector and still. Even in this moment you were choosing his best friend over him. Kirishima had tried to not let the hero positions affect his work, trying to feign happiness at his place in the pecking order, but it was difficult when he watched his best friend fly to the top even with his brash, brazen attitude, leaving Red Riot to hover in the middle of the Top Twenty, sometimes edging towards the Top Ten but nowhere near his best friend’s ranking. He forgot to count the amount of times that he’d arrived on a scene with the media already rushed to Ground Zero like he was the greatest hero in the world, not even acknowledging that it was him that saved all the people, Bakugou instead focused on the fight. Even the people that Kirishima saved time and time again seemed more interested in his fiery best friend. Rushing over to try and give him love and praise, which was often rebuked with fury. Ground Zero treated everyone like crap and they still idolised him. What about Red Riot?

“Uh- I bought you this.” He held up the flower in his hands, wrapped in delicate red sugar paper, the colour contrasting with the dark purple, almost black petals. They seemed to almost glitter in the bright light streaming out of your apartment and illuminating the sidewalk.

“T-thanks?” You were caught off guard as you took the flower from his hands, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this flower before.” 

You held the to the light, turning it slightly to see the way the petals glistened, lifting it to your face, like you always did as you inhaled the scent. The petals brushing against your nose as your eyes fluttered shut, your body starting to feel weak as you released the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, almost stumbling back as you pressed your forearm against the door frame, trying to keep yourself upright.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kirishima’s strong arms wound around your waist, holding you against his strong body as you involuntarily leaned into him, immediately feeling weak as you tried to stutter words.

“I- I don’t know?” You couldn’t hold yourself up, your mind becoming hazy as you tried to work out what was happening to you, “What is this?” 

Your body felt warm, a dull ache beginning to throb in your core as you felt your heartbeat increase, trying to push yourself away from the hardwood and instead falling face first into Kirishima’s firm chest. 

“I’ve got you, babe. I’ll look after you.” Kirishima lifted you into his strong arms, caging your body against his as he stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot, the flower now lay forgotten on the floor.

“Red Riot-” You whined as your hands weaved around his neck, avoiding his red gears as you pulled yourself against him. Burying your head into the curve of his shoulder as you inhaled his scent.

“Yeah, baby. That’s me-” He couldn’t help but let his fingers slip underneath the baggy shirt you were wearing, squeezing the round cheeks of your ass as he felt your body grind into him, pressing your cunt against his crotch as he carried you inside your house, seeking out your bedroom.

“I need you.” You whimpered, your hands slowly beginning to stroke along his exposed chest, mapping out the curve of his muscles as he finally found your bedroom, leaving the door open as he walked towards your bed. 

The sound of those words slipping from your lips had Kirishima groaning low in his throat. He couldn’t even begin to think of how much he’d wanted to hear you say them to him, how many times he’d imagined how they’d sound leaving your lips. And now as he finally heard them, it was unlike anything else, an indescribable feeling of euphoria and desire coursed through his veins. His lips immediately found yours and brought you into a passionate kiss, pouring out the weeks of feelings as he was finally able to touch you how he really wanted.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that? So perfect.” He whispered against your lips as you began to grind yourself against him, pressing your crotch against his own as he swore.

“I need you, Red Riot. Please-” You whimpered, your fingers dancing along his chest towards his belt, tugging at the bright red ‘R’ that sat at the middle, obviously struggling to unbuckle it in your haze.

“It’s okay, Princess. You’ve got me, yeah? I’m here-” He cooed, his own calloused hands immediately trailing along the exposed skin of your inner thighs, trailing higher as he slipped the Ground Zero shirt you wore up further. Vermilion eyes finally taking in the sight of the panties you wore. His fingers instantly tracing along the pink lace along the hem as he noticed the stain against the crotch, darkening the white material as you ground yourself against him. 

Of course you wanted him, look at how wet you were. You’d probably been playing hard to get for the last few weeks to test him, mentioning his best friend like some sort of challenge to try and make him jealous and rile him up so something like this happened.

“Please-” You whimpered beneath him, your hips grinding against his touch as he dragged his knuckles along your clothed slit, feeling how damp the fabric had become.

Kirishima hissed at the sensation, putting more pressure against his hand as he watched you writhe against him, taking in the flustered expression on your face, your cheeks flushed and your hair messy as you stared down at him with glassy eyes. His own eyes once again drifting down to the unwelcome reminder that you were wearing Ground Zero merchandise. He needed to get it off you, you didn’t belong to Bakugou. You were his.

Kirishima moved his hands to the hem of your shirt, hardening his fingers as he ripped the material along the middle, the picture of Ground Zero now ripped in half as the material slipped away from your body, exposing your naked chest to his prying eyes. You looked so perfect. Drinking in the sight of your naked chest as he allowed his hand down to palm your breast, squeezing it between his fingers as he watched you arch against the bed, your nipple hardening under his touch.

“Princess, you’re so beautiful, you know that?” Kirishima tugged his gears off his shoulders, letting them drop to the hardwood floor with a clunk as he hovered over you, both his hands now massaging your round mounds, his thumbs brushing against your pebbling nipples as he cooed down at you.

“You’ve wanted this for just as long as me, haven’t you? I knew it-” He murmured, his mouth moving to capture yours in another intense kiss. His tongue immediately forced its way between your parted lips and his hands moved down to tug your hips against your own, grinding his clothed erection against your core as you moaned into the kiss, your entire body feeling warm. You couldn’t think of anything except the dull throb between your thighs, desperate for any kind of relief.

“Please, Kirishima-” You whimpered, arching your hips off the bed to try and brush your crotch against his again, trying to create a dull friction between you both as you focused on your pleasure. 

“Eijirou. Call me Eijirou-” Kirshima murmured against your lips, his fingers pressing against your pelvis before slipping lower, stroking against your clothed slit.

“Eijirou-” You repeated obediently, the sultry tone in your voice had Kirishima grunting against you, a trail of drool connecting your lips as he pulled away, moving to press sloppy kisses against your jaw as he stroked teasing circles against your clit.

“Yeah, baby? What do you want? Tell me.” Kirishima’s fingers dipped inside the hem of your panties, tugging them down your thighs as he reluctantly moved back from your body to pull them off your legs. Your arms immediately moved to try and bring him back towards you, missing his weight against your body as you whined.

“Need you-” You pouted childishly as Kirishima focused on your sopping panties, his fingers rubbing against the crotch as he saw just how wet you’d become. Your slick glistened against the fabric as he brought them up to his nose to inhale your scent, groaning against them as he felt his cock twitch underneath his trousers. 

“You’ve got me baby, I ain’t going anywhere.” Kirishima shoved your panties into his trouser pocket before moving to unbuckle his belt, your fingers moving to tug at it to try and get him to move with more urgency. 

“Shhh, Princess. Let me make you feel good first, yeah?” Kirishima’s large palms wrapped around your thighs to pull your ass up off the bed as he lowered himself towards your cunt. Your folds glistening with your slick as he breathed in your scent, his warm breath fanning your sex as he took in the sight of you. Trying to commit everything to memory as he watched you grind yourself against him, your hands weaving into his spikes, the gel softer after a long shift at work as some of his hair began to fall into his face.

“You really want me now, don’t you?” He cooed, his lips pressing soft kisses against the apex of your thighs, dangerously close to your slit as you tried to get him to touch you where you needed it most. Your body felt as though it was on fire, a heat burning inside you as his tongue trailed along your labia, red eyes watching your reaction. This was everything he’d been thinking about and more, you were so intoxicating and now you were his, all his.

Kirishima laid the pad of his tongue flat as he licked a long stripe along your slit, the sensation making you keen as you ground your hips against him, trying to get him to repeat the action as you made an attempt to squeeze your thighs around his head. He groaned as he savoured the taste of you, unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. You were irresistible and he couldn’t get enough. His grip on your legs tightening as he dove back between your folds, moving to lap against your clit. The sensation made you shudder as your fingers tightened against his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp as he sucked your nub between his lips, lashing his tongue against it as he worked your body against his. 

“Such a good girl for me, so perfect.” He mumbled against your cunt, his fingers slipping between your thighs to press against your tight entrance. Slipping one of his thick fingers inside your wet heat as he felt your inner walls clenching around him. Immediately thinking about how his cock would feel sliding into you. He curled his finger as he focused his movements against the spongy spot inside you, continuing to suck your clit as he worked you towards your release. Your legs quivered as you tried feebly to grind yourself against his face. Once he’d stretched you out enough he added a second finger, slowly scissoring them inside you as he curled them both towards the same spot, trying to work you towards your release.

“You like that, yeah?” He hummed around your clit, sending pleasurable vibrations throughout your core, “No one else makes you feel like this, right?”

“No,” You weren’t even sure you were listening to his words, white hot pleasure surging through you as your toes began to curl, feeling your climax swiftly approaching.

“Cum for me, baby.” Kirishima felt your tight cunt begin to clench around his fingers, “Cum all over my face.”

“Eijirou!” You called out his name as your orgasm ripped through you, body quivering as his grip against you tightened, stopping you from bucking away as his fingers continued to pump inside your tight cunt.

“Shit, that’s it, baby. Cum for me.” Kirishima moved his mouth back to watch you come undone because of him, your slick dribbling down his chin as he crudely licked his lips, watching as you trembled beneath him, “Such a good girl for me.”

You whined when he pulled his fingers from your tight cunt, missing the contact as your inner walls continued to flutter around nothing. He brought his slick coated digits to your lips as he pressed against your lower lip, your tongue slipping out to wrap around them as you sucked your release from them. Kirishima pressed down against the pad of your tongue as he moved them further inside your mouth, feeling you gag slightly when they neared the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” The sound of you gagging around his digits had his cock twitching in his pants, desperate to feel you wrapped around him. 

He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d pictured this exact moment, having you ready and willing beneath him, trying to engrave your blissful face to his memory so he could cherish this forever. If he had to bring you one of those flowers every day for the rest of his life he would, if it meant seeing you like this every time.

“Eijirou-” You slurred around his fingers, the sound of his name leaving your lips had him breaking out of his thoughts. Slowly slipping his fingers from your lips he wiped your saliva against his trousers, wiping your slick of his mouth with the back of his hand as he moved to tug his trousers and boxers down his thighs enough to free his aching cock, the head already an angry reddish colour and oozing with pre-cum as it bounced towards his pelvis. His palm wrapping around his length to give himself a teasing pump as your eyes focused on his size.

“Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?” Kirishima stroked the tip of his cock along your wet folds, coating the head with your slick as he nudged against your puffy clit, watching the way your body reacted to him. Unsure whether it was still the aphrodisiac or you really felt this way for him.

“Please, Eijirou. I need-” You trailed off, feeling him pressing himself against your entrance.

“You need what? Tell me, baby, what you need.” Kirishima teased, breaching your tight walls with the tip of his cock, feeling you squeeze around him as he waited for your response, pulling back slightly as he watched your lips curve into a pout.

“Your cock.” You tried to move your thighs around his waist, trying to use your legs to pull him into you, “Please-”

Kirishima groaned at the alluring sound of your voice, the words he’d longed to hear from you for so long as he slowly began to ease himself deeper inside you, inner walls clenching around him perfectly as his cock stretched out your tight cunt. He stilled inside you for a moment to calm his body down, you felt so perfect and he didn’t want to lose it too early as he tried to steady his breathing and calm himself down. You just looked so perfect underneath him, so eager and willing.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” You groaned, your body felt like it was on fire, desperate for him to start moving inside you as you tried to buck your hips against his, “So hot.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Kirishima pressed sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your cheek, “But it feels good, right?”

You nodded your head childishly as he began to move inside you, slowly moving his hips back as his cock was pulled from your tight cunt, the prominent veins dragging against your inner walls perfectly before he pushed himself back in. Your hands slipped around his back to cling to him as he began a steady pace inside you, your nails leaving welts against his skin as you drug them down his back.

“So much better than Ground Zero, aren’t I?” Kirishima grunted, increasing his pace as he moved your thighs above his forearms, pressing you down onto the bed as his balls slapped against your ass with each roll of his hips.

“Yes, Eiji.” Your eyes rolled back slightly when he hit the same spot inside you, Kirishima now focusing each thrust to the same area to try and get you to come undone against him. Each rut of his hips had his ‘R’ belt buckle slapping against your thigh, leaving a dark mark in its wake that was slowly bruising. A low throb of pain that only heightened your senses further, making you focus on the intense pleasure between your thighs.

“Who’s your favourite Pro-Hero, Princess?” Kirishima murmured in your ear, his breath fanning against your cheek as he pressed his chest against yours.

“R-Red Riot.” You felt tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes with the intensity of his thrusts, each motion had him pressing against your spongy inner wall in the most incredible way, your climax swiftly approaching as you felt the coil inside you already threatening to snap.

“Yeah? And who fucks you this good?” Kirishima groaned at the sound of his hero name leaving your lips so sinfully, you were perfect. His teeth latched on to your jugular as he bit down, a coppery taste filling his mouth as he began to suckle your skin, intent on leaving a mark.

“Red Riot.” Tears began to slip down your temples and onto your pillow as he plowed into you with vigour.

“That’s right, baby. Ain’t no one else gonna make you feel this good, huh?” Kirishima moved one of his hands down between your connected bodies, giving you the chance to let your thigh fall to the bed, twitching from the uncomfortable position as he hardened the tip of his finger, pressing it against your puffy clit as he began to rub sloppy circles against it, “You’re all mine.”

The admission paired with the way he was abusing your body had you crying out, screaming out his name as you came all over his cock. Your vision hazy as you gasped for air, the alluring fog around your senses slowly beginning to clear as you blinked, trying to make out the man thrusting into your slick.

“Good fuckin’ girl, Princess. God, you look so perfect cumming all over my cock.” You clung to his body as you felt his pace increase, your tight walls quivering around him as he continued to grind into you, greedily searching for his own release.

“Kirishima?” You mumbled, your head throbbing as the man above continued to grind into your tight cunt.

“Gonna cum inside your pretty little pussy, yeah?” He grunted, his thrusts becoming more sporadic as his cock began to twitch inside you, “Gonna stuff you full of my cum.”

Kirishima felt his climax surge through him as he gave a few more hard thrusts, his eyes rolling back as he came undone, burying himself inside you to the hilt as he emptied himself inside you. White hot spurts of cum coated your inner walls as he grunted your name, your cunt continued to clench around him as he rode out his orgasm. His lips already peppering gentle kisses against your face as he stayed buried deep inside your folds, savouring the moment for as long as he could.

When he pulled out, you found yourself feeling oddly empty, his cum spilling out of your fluttering walls and sticking against your thighs uncomfortably as he flopped down beside you on the bed, his trousers and underwear still hung around his thighs as he pulled you against his body, placing your head on his chest as he wrapped a possessive arm around you.

“Kirishima?” You mumbled, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as they dampened his pectoral, your eyelashes trying to blink the moisture away, “What-”

“Shh,” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tightened his grip around your waist, “I’ll treat you better than anyone, Princess. Just you wait and see-”

You didn’t know what to say, how to reply as you lay there in Kirishima’s arms, trying to unscramble your thoughts, recollecting your memories of what had happened. Your eyes glanced around the room before another flash of red caught your eyes. A guilty feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach as you stared at the bouquet of red roses you’d received earlier that day, the pretty flowers sitting on top of your dresser, remembering that the note attached read ‘G.Z.’

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

His Dark Materials - Season 2 Episode 7 *FINALE* (Thoughts and Rambles)

We have a LOT to unpack here oh my god oh my god

When I say I was screaming and yelling during the episode, I mean I was LITERALLY screaming and yelling

This post is mostly screeching and capital letters, you’ve been warned

“So cold” “life or death meant nothing” - well shit. Accurate description of a Spectre attack damn

I didn’t know what those creepy noises were at first and I was sat here absolutely TERRIFIED because it was creepy as fuck. Then I realized it was cliff ghasts because they said something that I recognized from the book and I was like “oh shit”

Pan and Will talking is the sweetest omg

The fact that Pan told him that Lyra thinks he’s as brave as King Iorek Byrnison :’)

“She’s the best friend I’ve ever had” “You’re her best friend too” - STOP, MY HEART

Lyra was awake and heard the whole conversation :3

“I’m no longer an aeronaut” :( “I’m an insect” - LMAO

Hester and Lee’s banter remains my favourite thing and now it’s bittersweet tbh...

“You could never be an insect, Lee” “Okay, hare” - bless them

Marisa finding where Lyra was staying and then finding Lyra’s coat?? And crying with it pressed to her face?? :’(

In case I haven’t mentioned it already, I am incredibly gay for the witches/their aesthetic/costume. Absolutely beautiful queens, all of them

Oh hi, it’s Mary and the two kids!

The fact that Mary helped them find their adults :’)

Also, “We like you miss” - BLESS

I’m kind of confused as to whether the blue flower petals are important or if it’s just her smelling them? IDK

“I’m close to my father, it’s time I found him” - OOF OKAY UMM ARE YOU SURE

“I let my best friend down” - Noooo Lyra, no you didn’t! :( Your dad is a terrible parent and killed him, that’s not your fault!

“Maybe this is how I let you down” - Well done, Asriel and Marisa, you’ve fucked up a perfectly fine child is what you’ve done

Will telling Lyra that she hasn’t let him down :3

That witch turning up because she was trying to warn Marisa about the spectres, only for Marisa to torture and kill her... oof

FUCKING MONKEY I CAN’T DECIDE HOW I FEEL ABOUT HIM

“She’s MY daughter” - Okay, damn, lady...

“EVE. She’s the mother of all” - OH FUCK YOU TOLD HER. OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK

THE SPECTRE ATE HER DÆMON OMG NO THIS IS HORRIFYING WTAF

Seriously, the way the witch went so grey and lifeless and just fell to her knees and down... Urgh, my stomach is turning

Just when I thought I hated the monkey again, he starts whimpering because he’s afraid of the Spectres :(

“Stop whimpering” - DAMN MARISA YOU ARE A STONE COLD BITCH HUH

Pan being the damn voice of reason and telling Lyra they should stay with the witches like yes, Lyra, listen to him for once!!!

Okay but why are the Magisterium soldiers lowkey dressed like German soldiers from one of the World Wars???

I’m not really surprised that BBC left out the detail of Ruta and Asriel fucking when she found him to be honest XD

So the witches think that the Æsahættr is a person but it’s actually the KNIFE. AND THEY DON’T REALIZE. RUTA YOU DON’T NEED TO GO ANYWHERE, IT’S LITERALLY RIGHT THERE

“...That’s not my dæmon.” “Run.” - OH SHIT OKAY MY WHOLE BODY JUST TENSED UP

So umm Lee got shot and FUCK NO FUCK NO I’M NOT READY FOR THIS EMOTIONALLY THANKS

I LITERALLY DO NOT WANT THIS TO HAPPEN OKAY

“You’re either with me or against me” Umm he’s your dæmon?!?!

THE WAY SHE SCREAMED AT HIM OH MY GOD SHE’S FUCKING TERRIFYING HOLY CRAP

“What are you frightened of?” - oh, I don’t know, Marisa, maybe because YOU FUCKING SCREECHED AT HIM. MAYBE HE’S FRIGHTENED OF YOU

Also I love the detail of Marisa getting onto her hands and knees, sort of crouching and mirroring the monkey’s body language. I just love the parallel

The way the monkey flinched from her when she went to touch him omg :( No dæmon should be THIS afraid of their person (or at all?!?!)

Honestly, I find this series’ portrayal of Marisa fascinating tbh

“We have to do whatever it takes to keep her safe” - Umm, like maybe drugging her and hiding her in a cave for months? 🤔

Also in case I didn’t say this before, the fact she has complete control of the Spectres is fucking scary and always has been from the very first time I read the books

Okay so Lee is fully aware that he’s going to die if he stays behind but he does it because he knows that it’s the best chance of making sure that Lyra ends up under the knife’s protection (because Jopari will find her). All Lee wants is for Lyra to be safe and that hurts my heart so much, he loves this child so much :’(

“I love that little girl like a daughter” - LEE STOP MY HEART IS ALREADY BREAKING AS IT IS

NO NO NO NO I AM NOT AND NEVER WILL BE READY

Oh hey Red PAN-da (sorry I know I keep repeating that joke but honestly LOOK AT HIM)

“Once I change, you’ll stop changing” - OH SHIT. So we’re having THAT conversation then

“What do you think you’ll be?” “A flea I hope” - LMFAO I LOVE IT

“Is it Will that’s changing you?” “I think” - FORESHADOWING FOR AMBER SPYGLASS ANYONE?!

All the meanwhile, while Lee is dying and shit is going down, Ms Mary Malone is just chilling in a cave on a mountain by a waterfall, just reading

I literally struggled to watch Lee’s final scenes. I literally didn’t want to watch it because I cried reading it in the book, and I knew I’d be the same here

The fact that Lee HATES taking away people’s lives but he says “it’s theirs or Lyra’s”... I love him. He loves her so much.

“Think about anything, think about bacon!” - LMFAO I LOVE YOU HESTER YOU ABSOLUTE GEM

THE BULLET CLIPPED HIS SCALP AND I HAD A HEART ATTACK 

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” - NO HESTER NO DON’T YOU DARE BLAME YOURSELF DARLIN’, YOU ARE THE BEST AND WE LOVE YOU AND LEE LOVES YOU

I do this everytime I read the book and I did here even though I know what happens, but I was praying mentally that maybe Serafina would reach Lee in time... just maybe...

I’m really sitting here crying over Hester and Lee on a Sunday night, love that for me

Hester limping :(

“Don’t you go before I do” - FUCK YOU BBC AND PHILIP I’M SOBBING MY EYES OUT

“Oh how far we flew” - STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT FUCKING NOW I SWEAR-

I literally yelled and cried out “NOOO” when Hester faded away and Lee died. I am so upset even though I KNEW it was coming. I am literally not okay.

Oh god no Will, now is not the time to be walking away from Lyra and that witch 

Also why is that witch asleep on guard?? Come on, love, do better, it’s not like these are the two most important children in all the universes.... 

To be fair to Marisa, I’d feel pretty invincible if I were climbing up a mountain while the Spectres were guarding me/on my side

WILL AND JOHN FINALLY MET AHHHH

“I was told I’d find my father here”  - YEAH AND THAT’S HIM WILL ASDFGHJKL;

I’m low-key disappointed that there’s no brawl between Will and Jopari here. Like they instantly recognize each other and... hmm. I know there has to be changes but still.

“Your mother, Will, where is she?” - Awww. John really didn’t stop loving her :’)

“My son... is the Knife Bearer” - oooooohhhhhhh

“You have a dæmon” - that’s right, Will. Don’t worry, you’ll get one next season

The way I audible went “oh shIT” when Mrs Coulter found Lyra fast asleep. Like I said, I knew what was going to happen but STILL

I’m not really surprised that those Spectres killed the witch who was supposed to be guarding Lyra and Will tbh like that’s what happens when only ONE witch guards two teenagers and that witch falls asleep

The way that Lyra panicked when she woke up and saw her mother stroking her cheek omg 

Off topic but I’ve only just realized that Jopari has a fucking man-bun LMFAO OKAY

The fact that Jopari tried to get back to Will and Elaine but couldn’t will always hurt me

“And you chose these people over your family?” - I MEAN-

“I’ve thought about you every day.” - Awww

So John tells Will that he has to go to Asriel and bring him the knife, and he tells him all about the war that’s coming and I have LITERAL chills because I’m so ready

“And then we go home?” “... And then we go home.” - RIP MY HEART OUT, IT WOULD HURT LESS

“I’m not strong enough” - yes you are, Will! I promise you, you are! And Jopari says, “Both of us were brought here” - exactly! You were brought there for a reason by fate or whatever you want to call it!

“Your duty was to be my father” - WILL REALLY CAME FOR HIS DAD LIKE THAT I GUESS

“Look what you’ve become without me” - Oh my god, just when I thought I wasn’t going to cry again

JOPARI HUGGING WILL, SEEING THE SOLDIER AIMING, AND THEN PUTTING HIMSELF BETWEEN THEM SO HE TOOK THE BULLET INSTEAD OF WILL ASDFGHJKL;

So in the book, Jopari is killed by a scorned witch who had once asked him to be her lover, but he had turned her down (because of Elaine and Will obviously), and she kills Jopari in front of Will and then he kills her (I think?). But here it’s just a soldier leftover from the Lee vs Magisterium fight, so... yeah. Kind of a little peeved about the change personally but whatever I guess.

“The night is full of angels, they will guide you now” - AHHHHH

Also, might just be me, but maybe that line would have been slightly more impactful if the scene had taken place at night

This show really said “fuck healthy parental figures” I guess

Except Will’s mum, she’s the best and if anything were to happen to her we’d all riot

SAYAN KÖTÖR FADING AWAY NOOOO I HATE SEEING DÆMONS DIE

Okay, last little gripe, but I just wanted to say that in the book, Will doesn’t realize it’s his dad until literally the last second before his dad dies - like they both realize and then BAM, Jopari is killed. And while I do love the father-son reunion, I am kind of annoyed by the change because it was such a huge punch in the gut in the book that Will searches for so long for his dad, only to lose him the second he finds him.

Serafina finding Lee’s body and kissing his forehead was yet another punch in the gut, thanks Pullman/BBC/BadWolf

The fact that Will had to bury his dad :(

Also, WILL WEARING JOPARI’S JACKET OH MY GOD MY HEART

Oof that shot of his amputated fingers...

So the narration, when it started I thought it was Jopari at first, like from one of his letters... but then as it continued, I went “hang on”, and then I said outloud “wait, is that ASRIEL?!”

DID MARISA REALLY PUT LYRA IN A FUCKING TRUNK?!? BITCH ARE YOU OKAY?!?

Will putting his hood up like his dad did just hits differently

Okay so um ASRIEL HI I WASN’T EXPECTING TO SEE YOU THIS SEASON OH MY GOD THE SCREAM I LET OUT

HIS MONOLOGUE BY THE WAY IS FUCKING ART AND A MASTERPIECE BUT I WAS TOO BUSY CRYING OVER JAMES MCAVOY TO WRITE THE WHOLE MONOLOGUE DOWN

Oh, hi Stelmaria!

It always makes me scream that this man is not only Lord Asriel now but he’s also fucking Mr Tumnus and MOTHERFUCKING BILL DENBROUGH LIKE HOW IS THIS MAN INVOLVED IN SO MANY OF MY FANDOMS?!?

ANGELS ANGELS OH MY FUCKING GOD-

“We stand with you, Asriel Belacqua” - AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“Let us prepare for war” - FUUUUUUUUCK

(I was deadly serious when I said this was just me screaming and crying by the way)

I’m still reeling over the fact that Marisa put her daughter in a fucking trunk. Like I get you can’t exactly carry a drugged child about in the open but Jesus Christ, love, really?!?

Also Ruth Wilson / Marisa Coulter in a headscarf? *chef kiss*

The way that the screen went to black as she put the lid on the trunk down - SHIT OH SHIT GOOSEBUMPS

THE CREDIT SONG IS SO BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE IT HAS FUCKING ANGELS NOW I’M-

I WASN’T EXPECTING THE POST CREDITS SCENE OH MY GOD

ROGER?! ROGER! IT’S ROGER I’M NOT OKAY-

BBC YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THAT ON US LIKE THAT FUCK-

“What is this place?” - I’M SCREAMING SO LOUD I CAN’T HOLD IT IN

For anyone unaware, the reason I’m screaming so loud over the post-credits scene is because in TAS, while Lyra is drugged and in a groggy sleep, she has these visions of Roger talking to her from the Land of the Dead, which then later leads to her and Will actually GOING to the Land of the Dead and... well, the rest is even HUGER spoilers but YEAH I’M NOT OKAY.

Honestly, I’m just so happy and emotional because I’ve been waiting over a decade for a decent adaptation of not only NL but for TSK and TAS too, and we’re 2/3 there now. Just one more book/series to go... I wish we could have it now. I really hope that filming for the final one starts ASAP because if we have to wait two years just to see the conclusion to this series, I might cry.

This series is so amazing, and this season especially has been so incredible to watch. It’s been the highlight of my week for seven weeks, and I have no idea what I’ll do with my Sundays now that it’s over. I’ve asked for the DVD for S2 for my birthday already (since it comes out 29th December and my birthday is 13th January... just saying), and words can’t describe how much I do love this series. I know it sounds hollow since I say it about so many things I’m into, but this was such a huge part of my childhood and it’s one of my favourite fantasy series of all time. It’s truly one of the most incredible pieces of literature and now it’s making for incredible television... I love it so much.

[writing-with-olive]

The Stonewall Riots of 1969

1) Current State of Being (it was not good, fam, not good)

To set the scene, we’re in the late sixties. We’ve won the second World War, and suddenly everyone’s dealing with the fact that the patriotic frenzy America has been whipped into isn’t really having the same purpose it used to. Thing is, everyone’s still really heated along the basic lines of DEATH TO COMMUNISM AND ALSO COMMUNISTS. During the war, this was helpful. It created a sense of unity. But once the war was over, attention turned inward.

At this time, there was also research that queer people were "sex perverts" and a government report even came out saying

"The lack of emotional stability which is found in most sex perverts and the weakness of their moral fiber, makes them susceptible to the blandishments of the foreign espionage agent [...] the pervert is easy prey to the blackmailer.

This same report also cited a case of a gay man "who's homosexuality was used by the Russians [who were communist] to recruit him as a double agent before world war 1." Basically, the overall gist was that gay people were believed to either be communists now, or they would become communists because their brains were weaker.

Alrighty, but why were they easy prey? First, when it came to communism, they were just as susceptible as anyone else, but after steep laws against queer people were passed, blackmail became pretty real.

So... yeah, let's talk about a couple laws that were in place in the late sixties, shall we?

For the crime of sleeping with a consenting partner in the privacy of your own home you could face anything from:

A light fine

Five, ten or twenty years in prison

A life sentence

Electrical shock therapy

Castration

In addition, to target trans people, police had also dug out a law from the nineteenth century that was originally passed to supress angry tenant farmers who would don disguises and demonstrate against their landlords (law found in subsection 4 of section 240.35 of the New York Penal Code). The law stated that individuals could not wear more than three items of clothing that did not match their assigned gender at birth.If an officer thought you were breaking this law, they could arrest you and take you to a bathroom or similarly private location and have an officer who matched your presented gender either do a strip search or pat you down there to see if things matched.

Things got especially bad when New York realized they’d have to “clean up the place” in preperation for hosting the World Fair. In part, this meant a heavy crackdown on the gay community, and by extention, gay bars.

2) The Genovese Crime Family and Stonewall

At around this time, the Mob was starting to notice that gay bars were an excelent source of profit - since the prohibition era (1920-1933), limited access bars and speakeasies had popped up everywhere and since the gay community already couldn’t be themselves on the streets, they retreated to these more sheltered locations.

Three mafia members decided to open a gay bar because ohhh boy could you rake in some serious profit. Combined, the three of them put up $3500 to “renovate” the Stonewall Inn (which had gone through itterations of being a straight nightclub, straight bar, and gay restaurant in a sort of irregular cycle). 

Renovations included building a stage to dance on, painting the walls black, and getting a jukebox. No running water, no fire exit, just the bare minimum. It certainly wasn’t legal.

When they opened (as a bottle club to get around pesky liquor laws), the bouncer would look through a little slat in the door and if you had a codeword or looked sufficiently gay, he’d let you in. You then had to sign up to be a part of the club (about a dollar) and write your name down on a sheet of paper. Of course, no one wrote down their real names. 

The liquor in question was stolen, to begin with, and then heavily watered down with... questionably clean water, and then sold at about three times the original price in half-cleaned glasses (glasses were dunked in a bucket and then reused). Since none of the patrons really had high expectations anyway, they went with it. Needless to say, however, Stonewall was not a particularly nice place to be.

With all the money the trio raked in, a cut had to go to the Mafia man who controlled the district, and another cut went to paying of the notoriously corrupt 6th Precinct, to avoid getting the whole place shut down. 

Because they were payed off, the police would only conduct their mandated raids early in the night before things got going, and on weekdays - this was when there weren’t a ton of people there, and it was easy to make it look like nothing was amiss.

3) The Raid (this is where shit gets real)

First of all, the thing is - no one knows why it happened. It just.... did.

On June 28th, 1969, at about 2am, the night was in full swing. The bar was crammed full of people dancing and drinking. The air was stuffy as usual and quite dark. 

Then the bright flourescent lights come on - the signal that there was a raid and to seperate and to look less gay. The police came through, and called that they were making arrests. Everyone needed to line up against the wall and have their ID’s ready. Of course this was an issue, because just about everyone was legally not supposed to be at stonewall. 

As the police began taking people outside, a crowd was going - raids at this time were... unusual to say the least. Some of the queens went into the back of the police cars without much of a fight - obviously they were terrified, but it didn’t look like there was much they could do.

One of them, however, and no one knows who for sure, was having none of this. Though Marsha Johnson and Sylvia Rivera have both been suggested as the starter of the riot, both have denied it, saying it was someone else. Storme DeLarverie, however, has both accepted and denied it was her. In an interview where she confirmed herself as the starter, she described her reaction, saying:

“The cop said ‘Move f****t’, thinking that I was a gay guy. I said, ‘I will not! And, don’t you dare touch me.’ With that, the cop shoved me and I instinctively punched him right in the face. He bled! He was then dropping to the ground - not me!”

She then turned to the crowd and yelled “why don’t you all do something?”

This was when things transformed. Objects started to fly. It was like someone had just punched a hole through the dam holding back the collective anger of the queer community.

A lot of the queer street kids, homeless, desperate, and with nothing to lose, were at the forefront of the fight, throwing anything from stones to pennies to bottles. Here’s the thing: no one really liked Stonewall - it wasn’t particularly nice or inviting or anything like that, but it was THEIRS and they were going to fight like hell for it.

Those being pulled out of the Inn started fighting back too - throwing what they could, kicking, punching, pushing back against the police. Marsha Johnson, a woman some have referred to as “basically a lesbian superhero” even climbed a telephone pole and threw an unidentified heavy object at a police car, shattering the window. 

It was chaos and the crowd was still building. The flying objects didn’t stop, and it wasn’t like anyone had great aim - they were just as likely to hit a fellow protester - but there was a sense of comraderie and it made the police nervous. They were calling for reinforcements, but none were coming.

Finally, one of the police chiefs decided they had to retreat into Stonewall. They grabbed a few people as hostages and dissapeared inside, and barricaded the door. The inside of the Stonewall Inn was a wreck. The jukebox had been smashed. Same with the stage, the bathroom mirrors, and the cash register. Broken furniture was strewn on the floor.

Outside, the rioters had yanked a parking meter out of the ground and were trying to bash their way through the door, using it like a battering ram. Each thud made the officers even more nervous, and the captain, realizing things could turn from bad to horrific and deadly commanded his officers not to shoot unless he shot first. He went up to each one, commanding them individually by name, saying that if they shot without his direct sayso, they would be spend the rest of their police careers with only the worst possible jobs. To their credit, no one shot.

Outside, reinforcements finally arrived, armed in full riot gear - helmets, plastic shields, those club/baton things. They came forward in a full on phalanx. Then it started getting really ugly. People ended up lying on the sidewalk with blood coming from their heads or injured in other ways. The crowd started falling back, step by step. Finally, many of them ran.

But not to flee. Instead, they went all the way around the block and came up behind the reinforcement officers. Surprised that there was a new attack coming from behind, it was the police that began to loose the ground, and were forced to retreat back, back, back.

It was into the late, late hours of the night when the riots finally died down to nothing, the last of the crowd finally dispersed, exhausted.

4) The Next Day (aka a giant middle finger to the cops)

The shattered glass sparkled in the morning light the next day - a tribute to what had gone down the night before. 

That night, the crowds around stonewall were huge. And it wasn’t just the queer community - the anti-war protesters and Black Panthers had joined in, standing against the even larger ranks of officers. The night before was a tipping point, but if momentum was to keep going, there needed to be sustained effort.

Inside, the Inn was back to normal. The Mafia had repaired the stage, gotten a new cash register, and even replaced the jukebox. It was if the efforts of the police had never even happened. Throughout the night, the queer community went in and out as though everything were totally normal - as if the police didn’t matter.

The riots were even worse than the night before, but the police couldn’t gain any ground.

Despite what was happening and the triumphs of the queer community, the press was a little less enthusiastic, aiming to diminish what had happened, taking the viewpoint of the police, or claiming the riots happened because of a celebrity’s death, and not the decades upon decades of oppression.

5) The Impact (how we got to today)

A year later, a lot of the Stonewall participants gathered to commemorate the movement. There were now several activism groups that had grown since the riots, but there needed a way to keep it growing - keep the flame from dying out.

One woman proposed that they have a march like the Civil Rights movement and Anti-war protesters were having. As soon as the question filled the space, there was unanimous consensus. Yes - they were to march.

It was terrifying. One member remembered fearing that only ten or so people would show up - that it was only going to make them into a laughingstock and nothing more. Indeed, many people had shown up with popcorn to “watch the f*gs” - it was seen almost as a show or performance. 

But the moment was anything but. When the member looked back, in apprehension, what he saw wasn’t ten or the anticipated couple hundred people. No more than two thousand people had joined the parade. And not just the queer community - straight New Yorkers were there too. It was a moment of solidarity, and a demand for justice.

Every year since, there have been pride marches around the country, memorium to the community, and to the fight we’ve been fighting for a very long time, and to the patrons of Stonewall Inn who finally decided enough was enough.

6) Sources (because apparently trusting an unsourced tumblr posts is seen as an academic no-no)

(all in MLA because I just copy/pasted them from my research notes and also MLA feels official and all that)

Yardley, William. "Stormy DeLarverie, Early Leader in the Gay Rights Movement, Dies at 93." The New York Times, 29 May 2014, www.nytimes.com/2014/05/30/nyregion/storme-delarverie-early-leader-in-the-gay-rights-movement-dies-at-93.html?_r=0. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Brown, Dalvin. "Marsha P. Johnson: Transgender Hero of Stonewall Riots Finally Gets Her Due." USA Today, 27 Mar. 2019, www.usatoday.com/story/news/investigations/2019/03/27/black-history-marsha-johnson-and-stonewall-riots/2353538002/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Burey, Jodi-Ann. "'It Wasn't No Damn Riot': Celebrating Stonewall Uprising Activist Storme DeLarverie." The Riveter, Feb. 2017, theriveter.co/voice/it-wasnt-no-damn-riot-celebrating-stonewall-uprising-activist-storme-delarverie/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

Carter, David. Stonewall: The Riots That Sparked the Gay Revolution. 2nd ed., New York, St. Martin's Griffin, 2010.

Duberman, Martin B. Stonewall. New York, Plume, 1993.

Edsall, Nicholas C. Toward Stonewall: Homosexuality and Society in the Modern Western World. Charlottesville [Va.], U of Virginia P, 2003.

Kristi K. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

---. "Something like a Super Lesbian: Storme DeLarverie (In Memoriam)." The K Word, edited by Kristi K, 28 May 2014, thekword.com/2014/05/28/something-like-a-super-lesbian-storme-delarverie-in-memoriam/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

"The Stonewall You Know Is a Myth. And That's O.K. | NYT Celebrating Pride." YouTube, uploaded by The New York Times, 31 May 2019, www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7jnzOMxb14. Accessed 12 Apr. 2021.

(not in mla sorry) - PBS’s Stonewall Uprising (documentary)

++++

tagging: @veryunoriginal and @doggo038 because yall seemed pretty interested. Also my usual taglist: @candlemouse @bookdragonfanish @book-limerence​

If you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists, let me know! taglists found pinned to the top of my blog :D

[fallenrepublick]

Ahh I don’t know if this has been asked before but what would Riot/Brutus/Sunder/Feral/Savage/Maul do if their daughters inherited night sister magic?! Would they encourage it? Discourage it? Be sad? Angry? Afraid? Omfg the angst 😭😭😭

Ahhh yes... I think you'll find that the answer to this is a bit more shocking than you were expecting.

Had Arianne or Rica inherited Nightsister magic, (they did not), Maul's reaction would have been the best out of the six. He never had a particularly negative experience with it, despite knowing what the Sisters had done to his brothers, thus he would never have a negative reaction to this discovery. He would see these abilities as something good for his babies, something they can use to fight and survive in this harsh world, and he would encourage them to use it. His concern though, would lie in who is to teach them, how they would learn to develop their powers, how they would wield them to their full potential.

Had Bee inherited the Nightsister magic, (she did not), Savage would be worried most of all. It's not that he would lose trust or faith in her, as she's always been kind and giving, but rather that the powers themselves aren't always predictable. From what he knows, the magic is most often used to harm, to destroy, to drain. And while he sometimes can't help but look back on what the Sisters had done to his father, his brothers, he knows that this is not the same, that Bee is wholly incapable of such things. He worries, then, what those powers will do to her instead.

If Cherry had inherited Nightsister magic, (she did not), Feral would... have to adapt. His instinctive response to her first accidental use of it was to recoil his hand, to step back ever so slightly. It was that color, that exact same color, and the feeling when you've even just been close to it. He doesn't want to be afraid. She's just a child, a small, innocent child who knows no better and doesn't understand why he's looking at her like that. He wants to snap out of it, to smile and say, "it's alright " and move on. But he can't. His body won't let him. So he pulls away, just for a little bit, to collect his mind, to rub at the metal that surrounds his neck and tell himself that the same will not happen again. He would grow accustomed to it eventually, perhaps even smiling once she's practiced it well.

Had Clementine inherited the magic, (she did not), Sunder would have doubted everything. He had a belief about the Sisters once; that they were superior in every way, that they were in charge, that what he wanted was nothing compared to a Sister's will. She's such a sweet little thing, finding it only interesting when she can make a puff of green smoke and nothing else, but she's thrown a wrench into Sunder's very existence, where he stands in his life. And what does this mean for you? Will you raise her? Teach her how to use these abilities, even when you have none? Will you believe that now, his purpose has been served, that he's created a valuable witch and must now be gotten rid of? You tell him no, none of this is true, nothing has changed nor will it ever. But his expression tells you that he doesn't quite believe the same. He glances at Clem again... You're not sure he ever will.

If Pepper had inherited the magic, (she did not), there's no secret that Riot was terrified. He always hated the magic, always shut his eyes when it was being used, still has burn marks on his hands from it. And the hands, in fact, are where he would fear touching Pepper the most. He would still go about his responsibilities, still take care of her. But in the back of his mind, he'd always be thinking, "what is she capable of? What will she eventually be capable of?" She would barely notice, continuing to talk about everything she'd found out that day, just to see if he'd light up in excitement and ask questions when she did. He doesn't, but perhaps eventually he will again. Just a quiet smile isn't enough.

When Callan found out he inherited the abilities, he hid them. Though Brutus never went into specifics about what the Sisters did to him, it was still clear he held a hatred for them, swearing that they're evil. And Callan hid what he discovered out of fear. Does this mean he's evil, too? Can he get rid of it? What if he hurts someone he cares about? He couldn't hide for long, though. He let it slip, a small comment about his abilities, and he shrunk into his shell in shame, almost wanting to apologize to his father for it despite having no say in the matter. But Brutus saw the look on his child's face, and went silent before pulling Callan to his embrace. His child feared himself, wanting to hide from his family as if this were his fault, believing he's hated for this alone. But Brutus explains, telling him that he hates the Sisters, the ones that harmed their family and friends, that kept them all locked away and brought out only when they're deemed useful. Callan though, is loved, and will always be so. He's Brutus's baby, that will never change.

[frogtanii]

hq boys as the crimes they’d commit

warnings: CRIMES, crackfic, probably many typos idk i’m so tired lmaooo, cursing, drinking ??? idfk 😩💦

an: and i did this for what?? inspired by hq hcs royalty @sugardaddykenma @hina-wit-da-glock (AJSKSJ SORRY FOR TAGGING Y’ALL IF YOU SEE THIS, IT IS DEF NOT UP TO PAR W Y’ALLS WORKS ILY)

karasuno

sawamura daichi- insurance fraud!! somehow this is such a dad crime to commit?? dadchi didn’t try (dumb excuse, how do you accidentally commit insurance fraud smh) to commit insurance fraud but at one point in his late-thirties, he was very very broke and was already working as much as possible so, he decided to fake an ankle injury, as you do, and filed a bunch of claims which made him bank. daichi kept doing it until he was able to quit one of his jobs and buy himself a really nice suit and a rolex (uhhh 🥵). he somehow never got caught tho and to this day, none of his friends know how he was able to afford a tesla on a cop’s salary (sorry daichi but acab 😔✨)

sugawara kōshi- child abandonment!! ok you can try and fight me on this but i feel in my bones that suga absolutely despises children. he can tolerate ages 10+ but anything younger than that, he will punt them into the next dimension. the thing is, people just assume he likes kids because of how good he is with his team which is why his aunt begged him to babysit his nephew taro. taro was being an absolute brat when suga took him out for the day and he was 👉👈 this close to snapping. he put taro down for like 3 seconds to pay for their ice cream and when he turned back, the demon spawn was gone. he panicked, running around the park looking for taro when it turns out, taro was just bent down behind the bench. some random karen called the police and suga has never craved murder more.

nishinoya yuu- arson!! you CANNOT tell me nishinoya doesn’t have a ~murder~ playlist that he listens to to get himself hype (me too noya, me too). one night, he got a lil too hype listening to start a riot by duckwrth and watching demolition videos on youtube. he snuck out of his house to an empty shed like 30 minutes away and maybe... lit it on fire while genocide by lil darkie played on a speaker nearby. what he did NOT anticipate was the absolute size of the fire so he freaked out and called the firefighters who promptly called the police. he didn’t want to get grounded so he called daichi to bail him out. daichi still told noya’s parents 😔.

tanaka ryūnosuke- vandalism!! tanaka had been on alt tiktok and saw a group of cool friends spray painting an abandoned building. he thought “that’s cool, lemme do that!” but then he realized he had no friends (AHDGS JK I LOVE TANAKA). he asked nishinoya who was grounded from the arson incident and he knew he definitely couldn’t ask daichi, suga, asahi, or enoshita so he decided to go it alone. that proved to be a MASSIVE mistake. he got the supplies, arrived to the building of his choice (thanks saeko :3), and decided to spray paint a huge p3ni5 in bright red paint. he finished “successfully” and zoomed back home. what he didn’t realize with his two-and-a-half braincells is that he signed his glorious piece with his full name. the cops were at his house the next morning...🧍

hinata shoyō- forgery!! hinata did NOT think that forgery was even a crime. how was he supposed to know that he wasn’t allowed to copy his mom’s signature on a permission form! all he wanted was to go to an overnight training camp 😿

kageyama tobio- attempted murder!! kageyama swears it sounds worse than was and he is absolutely incorrect. what happened was so much worse. he and hinata were having a competition to see who could hold their breath the longest underwater (you can’t tell me they haven’t done some dumbass shit like this) and kageyma lost almost instantly (he has the tiny lungs of an asthmatic). he didn’t want hinata to notice so he held hinata’s head under the water for like 10 seconds. suga walked in though, saw hinata thrashing around in the water and immediately called the police. kageyama never forgave him.

tsukishima kei- cyberbullying!! first of all, i had no idea you could get arrested for cyber bullying!? that being said, neither did tsukishima who spent 80% of his time making fun of people online (and on his real account!! bold). eventually one of the people he bullied (hinata) reported him on instagram and his very lame account was deleted (pls don’t bully people online 😤).

yamaguchi tadashi- shoplifting!! andjksh this is so funny because this scenario has happened to me and i can just SEE this happening to poor tadashi. yamaguchi gets super late night cravings (and usually tsukki will walk with him at like 3 am 🥺 nEWAYS) so he’ll sneak out and walk to the mini-mart near his house. one night, he was so tired but also super hungry so he went onto his nightly routine and basically sleepwalked into the store. he picked out his favorite chips and candy bar (which are sour cream&onion lays and milky ways in case you were wondering 😌✨) and just... walked out the store without paying. the store clerk was mysteriously missing so yamaguchi made it all the way home, ate half the bag of chips and passed out without realizing what he’d done. once he did, he cried for 2 hours straight.

nekoma

kuroo tetsurō- telemarketing fraud!! kuroo originally did telemarketing fraud as a joke?? like he was trying to prank call someone pretending that they had lost their information and they actually gave it to him??? he was mildly concerned but even more excited. he did it over and over again but he never used the info for anything. to this day, kuroo literally has a notebook full of credit card numbers and bank account passwords but he refuses to use it because he believes it’s ✨wrong✨(but it isn’t wrong to take all that information in the first place under false pretenses, not realizing that once people find out, they are forced to close credit cards and accounts but go off self righteous king). once he brought the book up to kenma and he offered to sell it on the dark web. now kuroo feels less bad about what he’s done! :D

kozume kenma- computer crime!! pfttt this one seems kinda obvious but what do you expect from kenma :). he spends so much time on the internet, he’s definitely picked up some less than legal skills that still help him now 👀. kenma did little mini crimes like getting into other people’s wifi but his crowning achievement was when he hacked into the minneapolis pd website and had it so when you opened the page, a black lives matter screen came up. he never told anyone that it was him who did it but he thinks it’s the best he’s ever done.

yaku morisuke- racketeering!! yaku, the feral king, ran an underground gambling ring in the basement of nekoma (do they have basements?? who knows! i don’t!) during his third year. the only reason it didn’t get shut down was because coach nekomata took a portion of yaku’s profits whenever he won (which was literally all the time). everyone on the team has lost money to him which is why they never play with him anymore. they won’t even let yaku play monopoly 😔.

haiba lev- indecent exposure!! poor lev’s head is so empty, he tends to fall for whatever pranks his senpai’s do to him. this time kuroo had somehow convinced him that in order to grow his schlong, he had to run outside naked for 10 minutes because the moonlight had special growing properties. lev was a lil scared ngl because he was already superrr tall and didn’t need to grow his height (or his dick ((boy is hung)) but poor lev is insecure) but he did it anyway. long story short, an old woman saw him parading around the neighborhood naked and called el policia. 0/10 dick did NOT grow and had to spend a night in jail naked 😿

aoba johsai

oikawa tōru- prostitution!! KAKKAKA iwazumi made fun of oikawa for being so shitty and said that he couldn’t pick up anyone if he tried. flattykawa took this as a personal challenge and went out onto the street, asking people if they’d have sex with him. with the way he was asking (and the way he was dressed), people assumed he was a paid w h o r e and someone eventually reported him. iwazumi had to pick oikawa up from the station- he never let him live this one down.

iwaizumi hajime- battery!! it wasn’t technically battery but oikawa is a lil bitch and overreacts (at least in his words -_-). the amount of times iwa-chan has beat the absolute shit out of oikawa is uNREAL. he just can’t handle the stupidity sometimes so he just smacks the crap outta him. not for real for real but the way oikawa reacts, you’d think a murder was occurring. one time, shittykawa screeched so loud, they got a noise complaint -_- hajime hates it in these streets.

matsukawa issei & hanamaki takahiro- conspiracy!! issei and hiro have a secret blog where they discuss conspiracy theories and such but one day, hiro found an article that explained how jfk’s death was an inside job. he sent it to issei who began to theorize how HE’D do it. that devolved into a massive thread on their blog of how’d they murder a president which blew up and caught the attention of the cia who sent the a letter telling them to quietly delete the blog. they did because they were terrified but they kept the letter and now it’s framed in issei’s apartment.

kyōtani kentarō- assault!! baby is an angry little boy but for all the right reasons. he was at a bar (when he’s all grown up, duh) and he spotted an absolute drunk creep hitting on a girl who clearlyyyy did not reciprocate his feelings. kyōtani, being the respectful king that he is, went over to the guy, pulled him by the jacket and beat. the. shit. out of him. while the bartender was happy with the fact that the creep was out, he was not impressed with the damage to his bar. he just sent kyōtani out who casually adjusted his leather jacket and rings, and hopped on his motorcycle to ride away into the night. i am the FATTEST simp for this man ONG 🥴

shiratorizawa

ushijima wakatoshi- stalking!! poor ushijima has no idea how intimidating he can be. he was on a train late at night after practice and the woman sitting across from him left her purse sitting on the seat. being the gentleman that he is, he took the purse and followed her to return it. the only problem is that the closer he got, the faster she ran and when he tried to speak (yknow with his scary, deep, baritone voice), the woman screeched and called the cops on him because he was a “strange, big man who was following her home.” when the police showed up, ushijima was painfully confused and just held up this tiny ass purse in his massive hands. the cops laughed.

tendō satori- ???!! no one knows what crimes (or how many 😳) tendō has committed but each of his teammates have different ideas- ushijima: “i don’t believe tendou is capable of committing any sort of felony. well, maybe murder”; semi: “of COURSE he’s capable of crimes??! do you know how many times i’ve seen him come into the dorm with a suspicious stain of red on his sweater?? *shudders* if i end up dead, tendō did it...” in actuality, the only crime tendō has committed is ~drugs~ but he’s not bouta tell his friends that.

goshiki tsutomu- would be a VICTIM!! my baby tsutomu would NEVER commit a crime!!! i love this man with my everything and the only crime he’s committed is being too damn cute 😤🥺

[queerderpyturtle]

some old rambles about discord and starswirl that I dug up

I been thinkin. Bout Discord and Starswirl. And how they probably knew each other. And what their relationship could've been. And what that means for the rest of their arcs in the show.

From what we know (and what I remember) Discord came into power after Starswirl and the pillars were sent to Limbo, but Celestia and Luna started ruling Equestria sometime between those two events, because they were too young to remember or care about the other pillars, but they banished Discord.

We don't know a lot about Discord's past, but I imagine that when he first came to Equestria (at which point I assume he was fairly young by draconequus standards), he wasn't exactly given a warm welcome. Ponies were probably absolutely terrified of this horse-headed, bat-winged, lion-pawed, snake-tailed freak of nature, and there's a good chance they would've driven him out of town full force. His first taste of ponykind was rejection.

So, later, he tries again. He makes himself a pony disguise-- a handsome unicorn stallion named Atlas-- and sets off to learn more about Equestria. And it works! He's able to make friends, live amongst ponies, and study Equestria magic. He actually gets pretty good at doing through his unicorn horn, so much so that he manages to get into a prestigious magic school for gifted unicorns. "Atlas" is of course still a troublemaker, though. He pulls pranks, annoys his teachers, breaks the rules, and just generally has no respect for authority. And why should he? The entire society that Equestria is built on is corrupt beyond all belief, stuck in its ways, and downright hostile towards any creature outside of it. They didn't deserve his damn respect. Equestria itself was fairly new as well, and the ponies themselves were still getting used to each other. It was all one giant powderkeg, and Atlas was honestly excited to see what would happen when it went off. So he stuck around, if only to cause more chaos in this personal playpen country of his. If he wasn't the best student in all of his classes, his teachers probably would've strangled him after a day.

And then one day, he found himself in a class with the famous Odin Starswirl, a magically gifted unicorn with a penchant for proving others wrong and keeping a clear head while doing it. He was proper, eloquent, studious, respectable-- a perfect pony for Atlas to torment. Except it turns out that Odin is ridiculously, insufferably hard to annoy. When Atlas knocked over his books, or spilled water on his cloak, or made fun of his sloppy hornwriting, Odin simply responded with a sigh and a quick cantrip to fix whatever the stallion had ruined with his antics. This did not please Atlas at all. He spent more time hanging around Odin than he did hanging out with his more troublesome buddies, just to try and get a rise out of him. But he never could. If anything, they were becoming... friends. Atlas's biting remarks turned into light-hearted jabs and playful scoldings.

"Odin, for heaven's sake, if you don't take a break from studying to shave for once in your damn life, I'm going to have to start calling you Starswirl the Bearded!"

His destruction of property turned into casual acts of kindness.

"Yes, I brought your saddlebag. I knew you'd forget it, you scatterbrain. We're lucky you even remember to eat."

His contempt for Odin's huffy nature turned into giving the unicorn an easy out for boring social events hosted by his equally uppity parents.

"C'mon, Stars, let's get out of here. I know a place nearby that sells elderberry tea."

"You know I can't leave. This is an important party."

"Important to whom, exactly, my dear?"

"To my parents!"

"Your parents. Well, last time I checked, they weren't you."

"...Fine. Thirty minutes, and then you're bringing me back."

Before long, Odin was regularly sneaking off to join Atlas and his friends on their escapades. He found himself strangely drawn to the unicorn, in spite of-- or maybe because of his rebellious and carefree nature. He was so different from the ponies Odin was used to, so sure of himself, so headstrong. Odin would be a fool to say he wasn't slowly getting attached to the scoundrel.

Atlas noticed this, of course. He was honestly surprised! Who knew a straight-edged young scholar like Odin would be so willing to stray from the path of monotony? And that was all Atlas wanted. To cause a little chaos in Odin's life. It wasn't as if there were moments in which he looked at the unicorn and considered giving up his whole scheme to enjoy a happy life alongside his... friend? Companion? Fellow associate? Lord, what even where they? Atlas had never really had a friend that was interested in any part of him other than the chaotic part, and Discord hadn't had any friends at all. He took a leap of faith one day to ask Odin if they were, in fact, friends, and Odin responded with an aloof "Yes, I do believe so." And that was that, wasn't it? He had a friend. A real friend.

Over the next few years, Odin and Atlas became inseparable. It was a thing to see, the two of them trotting down the streets of Canterlot together. They couldn't have been more different, from the way they walked to the way they spoke, but they were as close as ponies could get. Odin gave Atlas a safe place to practice magic, study Equestrian history, and discuss the library's old scrolls and texts from ancient unicorns. Atlas gave Odin an out from his mundane life as a trophy child of the wealthy Starswirl family. When Odin started tutoring two unicorn fillies with promising skills in arcane magics, Atlas was the first of Odin's friends he introduced them to (the fillies lovingly started referring to the stallions as their honorary uncles). When Atlas accidentally used too much sticking potion in a prank and stuck one of his teachers to the side of the school for three days, Odin helped him sneak into the Starswirl mansion to hide, scolding him between laughs the whole way. They each saw more in each other than the average pony could ever see; Odin was more than a prodigy, and Atlas was more than an annoyance.

And if there were, perhaps, by some miracle, some hint of... romance beneath their friendship that neither side would admit to, well. That was their own business. If they enjoyed cuddling up on the couch to read from the same book, nopony needed to know. If they relished each "accidental" brush of hooves or tails when they walked together, nopony would be any the wiser. If Odin longed for the day when Atlas would use those strong forearms of his to pin the stallion against the nearest wall and just kiss him already, and felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life when Atlas finally did...

Then maybe that was just fine. And for a while, it was. But there was always that itch at the back of Atlas's mind, that knowledge that their relationship was fleeting, because it was all, in truth, based on a lie. If Odin found out who Atlas really was, what Atlas really was, it would all crumble to pieces like a biscuit that had been left out in the sun. Atlas... no, Discord hated that the thought of losing Odin-- a simple pony whose life was a speck of dust in his immortal existence, who would be a pile of ashes in the ground before Discord had even had his second molt-- made him so unreasonably upset. He'd known going into this that becoming invested in the lives of the ponies in Equestria was foolish. He'd never meant for it to get this far. He'd come here to futz with the government a bit, maybe start a few riots or terrorize a few queens. He never wanted to find Odin. So why wasn't he willing to let him go?

Shit, he really was in too deep.

And yet, Atlas and Odin found themselves ever-so-slowly, but ever-so-surely falling in love.

But nothing gold can stay.

Odin had always known Atlas was a bit of an anarchist. It was one of the things he admired about the stallion-- his ability to let go of the norms that Equestria had built for itself and be his own pony. The problem was that Atlas seemed to have a problem with how Equestria treated creatures who weren't ponies. Griffons, yaks, kirin, and the like. Equestria had never been a big trading country, or a big socializing-with-other-nations country. They kept to themselves. Of course, this meant that xenophobia was rampant, and that the fear of the outside world was instilled into the hearts of almost every pony there. But why should Atlas care so much?

Odin asked him as much when the two stallions were studying together in Odin's room, and Atlas became noticeably more tense. He gave Odin a simple "I just think it's wrong," hoping to avoid the subject, but Odin pressed him for more details. Sure, Equestria was problematic, but all in all, it was a good country. Was there really anything so bad about wanting to keep it the way it was? Atlas tried to keep himself from snapping, tried to keep himself from saying something he'd regret, but hearing these things from a pony he loved hurt him deeply.

"It's not about tradition or preservation, Odin. It's about the fact that Equstria has never been willing to change. Before the unifications of the species, it was conflict between the pony species. After, it was conflict between the classes. Now, it's conflict between countries. Just because the problems are external doesn't mean they aren't there," Atlas told him.

"But it isn't exactly a pressing matter. It hardly effects us at all. I guess I just don't understand," Odin replied.

"Of course you don't."

It was said so quietly that Odin couldn't quite tell if he'd been meant to hear it, yet with such venom that he couldn't ignore it. He chanced a confused look and a "What?"

Atlas stood. "Of course you don't," he repeated. "You're the perfect example of a high-class, magically advanced, want-for-nothing unicorn pony. You're perfectly content to live in your little bubble of mediocrity, never trying to do anything to change the world around you. You think there's nothing you can do to help others, so you don't even try. You think they'll sort themselves out. You're complacent, Odin. You've always been."

"Complacent! And just what is wrong with that? I'm doing my best in my own life and I have no responsibility to try and fix the lives of others! Is it so wrong to focus on myself?"

"Of course not! But you can't just pretend that you're the only one with problems! I see it every day, Odin. You act like you're on top of the world, like you're above feeling sorry for others. You don't even care about them. About me!"

Odin looked hurt. "Atlas, I-- of course I care about you! You mean everything to me!"

"And just how much would it take to change that? Telling you my real name isn't Atlas? Telling you I'm not from Equestria? Telling you I look like this?!"

In a flash, Atlas removed all the disguise spells he had on himself, leaving him-- Discord-- in his true form. A long, sleek body covered in brown fur. The misshapen head of a goat, framed by a shaggy black mane and two short horns. Wings, legs, and a tail that had all been taken from different animals, stuck together like a gruesome collage. Odin's eyes trailed up the creature's body slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing. He began to back up.

Discord could feel each step he took like knives driving into his heart. Odin was afraid.

The draconequus scoffed. "You're all the same."

"A-Atlas, I..."

"Discord. My name is Discord. I am a draconequus from the tribe of the western Badlands, sent to Equestria to study its magic. When I first came here, I was avoided like the plague. Ponies wanted nothing to do with me. They saw what they were told to see in me-- a monster. A hideous, murderous, blood-thirsty monster. They threw me out because I was different."

Odin was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "I think I n-need some time to... to process all of this. Alone."

Discord couldn't have stopped the pain he felt from showing on his face if he'd somehow managed to summon all the magic on the planet. He gritted his teeth, blinked back tears, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

It was the last conversation he would have with Odin for a millennium.

That night, Odin lay in bed, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Firstly, he and Atlas had just had their first real lovers' spat. Except that those typically didn't lead to one of the ponies involved revealing that he was a creature from a faraway land, but whatever. Secondly, "Atlas" was a draconequus named Discord. That would take some getting used to, of course, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Thirdly, Atlas-- who was actually Discord-- had stormed out in a huff without saying goodbye. Well, that's just how things were sometimes. Nothing to lose sleep over.

When he awoke the next morning, the first though this mind supplied him with was, "Oh sweet merciful heavens I've ruined everything." He rushed to school early, hoping to find his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I love him and I just cast him out like an old dish towel), but the stallion was nowhere in sight. Odin asked around, tried everything to get into contact with Atlas/Discord, but nothing came up. He had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Instead of dealing with all the emotional turmoil that came with that situation, Odin threw himself into his studies. His magic grew stronger and stronger, fueled by rage and pain and sadness. He pushed Celestia and Luna to become powerful sorcerers like himself, pouring every hour that he didn't spend practicing magic himself into teaching them. He tried to forget about Discord entirely, and move on. He didn't need some handsome bad-boy keeping him sane to be successful. He only needed himself. That was all he would ever need. Odin was gone. There was only the great and honorable Starswirl the Bearded.

When the sirens invaded Equestria, he agreed to help defeat them. When Stygian came to him looking for friendship that Starswirl hadn't even offered to the other "pillars," he turned him away coldly. When he realized the only way to defeat the Pony of Shadows was by sending the seven of them into limbo, he refused, at least at first. But the citizens of Equestria persisted. He was the great Starswirl, he had a duty to protect them and keep Equestria safe. He tried to tell them that the consequences of the spell were too drastic, but they would not listen. Starswirl had no choice but to go through with it.

Discord, meanwhile, had been staying on the outskirts of Equestria, brooding and cursing Odin's name. When he found out that Odin had vanished, however, and the circumstances of his disappearance... well, he wasn't happy. Despite everything, he still loved the idiot, and he had never wanted something so terrible to happen to him. Odin would have never agreed to something like that without being pushed by the Equestrian citizens. What right did they have to decide who lived and who died? Why did they get to sacrifice their most beloved sorcerer for their own safety when there were other options? Was this the price they paid for harmony?

That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do at all. If these pitiful excuses for equines thought the pony of shadows was a threat to their delicate balance, he would show them true chaos. He dethroned the country's leader, took over, and made the ponies of Equestria suffer like he did.

And then Celestia and Luna came along. When had they gotten so big? So powerful? How had they grown wings? Were they seriously going to try and take him down? Lulu and Celly, the sweet little fillies who had once made him flower crowns and taught him songs and invited him to tea parties. They were going to try and make him surrender. How adorable. He wasn't going to fight them, of course-- he still held a great affection for them, no matter how long he'd been gone. He would let them do their little song and dance, and them send them on their way.

Of course it was hard for the sisters, too. They had looked up to Discord back in the day, he and Starswirl both. Now they were using the magic that Starswirl had taught them to defeat someone he had once loved. Someone he probably still loved. But freedom is never free, and the sisters were resigned to their fate. They harnessed the power of the elements of harmony, turned Discord to stone, and hoped silently that someday, somehow, he would return to them, and he and Starswirl would find each other again.

[paullicino]

Ten Years

Taken from my Patreon.

Ten years is a long time. It’s long enough for many things to change, but also long enough for everything to remain the same.

I remember ten years ago as if it were yesterday, as if it passed by in the blink of an eye, with light and shadow, textures and taste all as familiar as ever.

A morning after. Shocked faces. A phone call. Events barely believable, yet all too real.

Ten years ago, my then partner and I were living in a top floor flat off Tottenham High Road. It was sweltering in the summer and the downstairs neighbours played dance music at four in the morning. But the views out the back bedroom window were of valleys of rooftops, sprouting television aerials and summited in the winter by the briefest dustings of snow.

The sun was for the front of the flat. The moon shone into our bedroom.

I remember that sunlight in the afternoon, sparkling through the shifting foliage of the tall trees outside. And I remember summer most of all. August.

We had a tap. A faucet. A great, overwrought thing that our landlady was obsessed with. It was the best tap ever, she said. It was large, curved and heavy, the pharaonic headdress worn atop a newly-fitted kitchen of which she was so proud. Wasn’t it exciting that we had such a good tap?

We just wanted our bed repaired. Our home wasn’t finished when we moved in and we slept on the sofa for weeks. When the mighty tap was finally installed, it was too heavy for its fitting. It teetered. Along with poorly-mounted cupboard doors with handles that prevented other cupboards from opening, its practicality was an afterthought.

The walk up Tottenham High Road took me to the only two locations I ever really visited, the supermarket and the job centre. The supermarket provided us with affordable food (though I’d watched the price of many staples almost double over five years) and the job centre provided me, an unemployed person, the money with which to buy that food.

The job centre, which was now extra special and had been rebranded Job Centre Plus, did not provide anyone the means with which they could get a job. It spent almost all of its time providing people with unemployment benefits. Most of the thousands of Tottenham residents who poured through its doors would’ve taken a job if they could’ve found one, but the listings at the centre itself were usually out of date, irrelevant or in some other way misfiled. Most employers don’t want to list their vacancies at the Job Centre Plus because they don’t want to employ the kind of people who go there.

Out of the Job Centre Plus and the supermarket, which one do you think burned that August?

I have written before about my strongest memory of the Job Centre Plus, but here it is again. It was of an old foreign woman and her daughter trying to speak to a clerk. The old woman didn’t speak English, so her daughter was attempting to explain that the woman was looking for work and thus registering as unemployed to gain unemployment benefit. The clerk was trying to explain that the woman was too old to work and should also be on disability benefit. The daughter was trying to explain that they had tried to navigate those systems and that they were obtuse and broken. Her mother just needed money. To live.

(Ten years before, in the summer of 2001, I’d first looked at the cost of moving out. I looked at rents around my Hampshire town, at the cost of housing and at the wages I needed to earn. England was expensive, I decided. It sure cost a lot just to live.)

Everyone was trying to explain everything. The job centre mostly wanted to give people their money and get rid of them, because there were many more lined up behind.

My strongest memory of the supermarket was of the man outside with no legs. He sat there panhandling in his wheelchair almost every day of the year. Britain had just launched its latest Astute-class nuclear submarine, each of which costs over one and a half billion pounds, but it was still a country where a man with no legs had to beg outside a shop.

I thought about that man long after I left Tottenham. I think about him here, now, ten years on.

My partner went abroad to see family and I spent some of the summer restarting my career as a freelance writer. I was fortunate with the connections and opportunities that I had, none of which would ever be found at a job centre, and I spent a lot of my time writing either to find work or simply for practice. I was writing on the night my street burned.

It began before dusk and I came home to find enormous police vehicles parked outside, the sort that are mobile command headquarters. Chains of armoured riot vans surged north. I heard there’d been a protest outside the police station and that a car or two had been burned. I checked the news occasionally. It didn’t have much to add.

Police vans kept coming, though all other traffic had stopped. The roads were closed, blocked by the police, and the latest news told me that petrol bombs had been thrown and a bus set alight. The reports were sparse.

The police in England are really good at responding to riots. They turn up in great swathes, on horses, in vans, or on foot and armed with batons and shields. They have all kinds of exciting equipment to help them. A year before, they’d kettled schoolchildren protesting the huge increase in university tuition fees, surrounding and slowly crushing hundreds of them in Trafalgar Square and on Westminster Bridge. Footage emerged of them beating the shit out of kids or dragging people out of wheelchairs. Here they were now in Tottenham, ready for more.

I kept trying to find news. The police had cordoned off most of the High Road, which meant the journalists that were arriving had no ability to find what was happening inside the riot. Distant footage of fires was the best most of them could provide. As I remember it now, the BBC had one van inside of the police cordon and couldn’t broadcast out because its dish had been damaged. I also have memories of a single journalist, almost in the thick of a mob, asking rioters to give them a moment to explain why they were protesting, or wondering why on earth they might want to block a BBC camera crew who were trying to film them.

What an inane question.

I found the news I wanted. I found it via Twitter and social media. And it was terrifying.

Broadcast news had described a riot not unlike any other. But the still relatively new sphere of social media was overflowing with witness statements, photographs and the kind of low-quality video that phones captured back then. People across Tottenham were panicking as they described growing crowds on the High Road burning not only vehicles, but also shops and businesses. They were breaking into commercial properties. They were looting. They were starting more fires. This had begun half a mile away from my home and it was spreading outward. The post office burned. Landmark businesses burned. Local shops burned and, with them, the flats and homes located above.

The updates kept coming and it’s almost impossible for me now to try to describe to you not only the sheer volume of panic and distress that waterfalled down my feed, but also the sense of utter hopelessness that came with it. People beyond the High Road described not just the violence spilling into their streets, the fights and the hundreds of looters, the fires and the damage, but also how there was no one who could stop this. No emergency services responded. Their phones went unanswered or the lines were jammed.

I read update after update that echoed the same, basic fact, something which I still struggle to comprehend even now, something I’d describe as barely believable: No help was coming.

But the social media updates kept coming. Looters were turning up with empty vans and loading them up with everything they could take. Buildings were being destroyed. A whole estate was being evacuated.

The news provided by the BBC and its peers remained limp and languid, so I spent all night reading these updates, discovering more nearby shops were being gutted, or how the retail park near me was looted to the point of emptiness, and I watched as even my own view out the window became broiling crowds of countless restless and angry people. I remember one man walking off into the darkness with brand new flatscreen televisions under each arm, the police vans now long gone. The night was regularly punctuated by shouts, screams, thumps and sometimes what might have been explosions. The sirens were always distant. The helicopters came and went.

I don’t know where the police cordon had gone. It felt almost as if they had given up and let Tottenham run rampant.

The sun came up and from that back bedroom window I saw smoke rising. I hadn’t slept. The news was full of irrelevant speculation and so, at five-thirty, I put on my shoes and walked the High Road. What I saw was barely believable. Sometimes I met the stunned gazes of other people doing the same, sometimes I avoided any eye contact. I have kept a diary for a long time now and this is what I recorded (slightly edited):

“This morning at about 5:30, as the sun rose, I tried to wander through Tottenham to take some pictures. It became one of the scariest walks I've ever taken.

The atmosphere was tense and unpleasant. Columns of smoke snaked upwards and the High Road and several other streets were blocked off or packed with police vehicles, many more of which were endlessly arriving, some from as far away as Kent.

The nearby retail park was littered with debris and many of its shopfronts were smashed. Groups of people, perhaps gangs, loitered everywhere. While some areas were busy with police officers, others were neglected and patrolled by hostile looking young men.

I didn't end up taking many pictures. I kept moving. Depending upon where you walk, Tottenham looks like a cross between a blitz bomb site and the mess after a chaotic festival.

Something still feels very different. Tottenham has hardly been rosy at the best of times, but today the sunshine can't seem to dispel a strange chill in the air. I myself can't stop thinking of all the homes that burned last night. It might not be immediately obvious to many people, but above a great deal of those shops set ablaze were flats, often family homes for very poor people. Many of those who had little now have less.”

A day after those first riots hit Tottenham, they went nationwide. London wasn’t done and, for a week, many major cities in England played host to their own riots. Tottenham was totally locked down, but it was far too late. The disorder had moved elsewhere.

I remember telling a colleague I worked with that I wouldn’t be finishing something that weekend. He laughed at the news and imagined it would all blow over. He was from a much wealthier background.

Then, everyone started trying to explain everything.

The BBC caught up with events the way a great-grandparent catches up with technology, fumbling and frowning. Goodness me, they said, in their middle class, broadcast-trained voices, and they joined in with the three broad lines of discussion that emerged. One asked how this could happen, one asked why this had happened, and one was about how this would never happen again, because the law would be firmer than ever, the punishments and prosecutions authoritative and absolute. The police were ready for more. They were going to get water cannons. I imagine those work particularly well on kids and wheelchairs.

There was a lot of talk about punishment, including from the Prime Minister, who decided to stop being on holiday in Tuscany only after England’s third night of rioting. I wonder if he had imagined it would all blow over.

Sometimes there was talk involving the people of Tottenham themselves, but it was more likely to be talk about them. A lot of people in Tottenham are Black and have families that trace back to the very first Windrush immigrants of the late 1940s. One Black Labour MP said it was important to talk about their experiences in London, their economic situation and their history of treatment by the police. After all, the spark that had set these riots alight was a protest outside the police headquarters, subsequent to the suspicious shooting of Mark Duggan, a Black man, something that called to mind a similarly suspicious death of a Black woman that also precipitated Tottenham’s 1985 riots.

For some people, the discussion became about how Black people had started the riots and been the chief participants. This wasn’t reflected in anything I saw either on social media or with my own eyes, in person, on the night. But nobody was stopping to ask me what I thought or what I saw.

Not long after that first riot, my partner called me to check I was okay and to ask if those barely believable things she’d seen on the news were really as bad as they seemed. They were. I rode the bus up the High Road on my way to Wood Green, then later to Walthamstow, both of which offered me temporary job centres that took the overspill from ours, thoroughly gutted by fire and then looted of all of its copper piping. The bus crept past burned-out shops and homes. I don’t know where those people have gone.

Later that year, my partner and I discovered that our income was low enough that we were eligible for housing benefit. It took us so long to try to apply for it that we moved home before any progress was made. When I found enough work to support myself, I visited the job centre to sign off, as we called it, to close my file. I asked a woman at reception what I needed to do. “Nothing,” she said, as the line behind me wound down several stories of stairs and out into the grey autumn street. “Just stop coming. Stop coming.”

Winter came and things rustled in the walls. There was a long, tall hedge along the High Road and I would look out the window to see men using it as a urinal. I only had to live in Tottenham for around a year and a half and I have good memories from that flat, but I also remember a stifling and sad place to live, from which I was lucky to move on. Tottenham was never my home and I never had to stay there, but I certainly feel that I came to get a sense of the place.

After moving out, our ex-landlady complained that we hadn’t left the oven as clean as she would’ve liked. She hiked the rent 9% while we were staying there. She never fixed anything that broke and provided excuses instead of solutions.

I found more work. I taught games and narrative for a semester at a small institution in East London. One of the things I asked my students to consider was the stories and the experiences of people who weren’t like them. I asked them to share how often they had been stopped and randomly searched by airport security. “Not just at the airport,” one student reminded me. “On the tube. On the street.”

My life continued to improve in many ways, but I still remembered the man in the wheelchair. The BBC and many other media outlets continued to talk about poverty and race, but not always to poor people or to people who weren’t white. In 2014 I wrote On Poverty and one of the most surprising responses I repeatedly received from people was “I had no idea that it was like this.” A friend of mine tried to apply for support for chronic health problems and documented her many struggles, including being required to explain exactly how many times a week she suffered from migraines (“You said it was two or three times a week. Well, is it two, or is it three?”). The news regularly reported growing homelessness, rising use of food banks and the inevitable deaths of people who weren’t just failed by broken systems, apathy and a lack of understanding, but also simply too poor to be alive.

I feel like some of the people I knew didn’t like how I kept returning to these topics. I feel, even more, that they didn’t at all understand. I remember some of these people waiving off the Brexit referendum as it approached, certain the country wouldn’t vote to amputate itself from the European Union. I don’t think they understood and I don’t think they’d seen the unhappy England that I had, both as a child and as an adult. I think they’d only seen, and been, very comfortable people.

I think these people would call themselves open-minded, progressive and keen to make the world better. I’m sure they could explain those views. At length.

If I think of those people now, I’m quite sure they are all still very comfortable, ten years on. I also think there is still a good chance that man is sat in that wheelchair outside of that supermarket, though he could also be dead by now, again simply too poor to be alive. No longer able to watch the sun sparkle through tall trees, see roofs dusted with snow or catch the moon peeping through his bedroom window.

Such things aren’t for poor people. We still get frustrated when we give them benefits or find out they own mobile phones.

---

Ten years on, Tottenham is almost a dream, a memory where the details have faded and the edges have softened. I have moved countries, had the privilege of travelling through work, enjoyed many different creative opportunities and benefited from free healthcare that has addressed difficult, long-term health issues. I have rationed my life according to a tight budget, but I’ve never had to face the overwhelming, unending hardships of others that I’ve shared neighbourhoods and postcodes with. I cannot ignore these people because they have so often been one street away, visiting the same shop or riding the same train. They are not an abstraction, they are right there, ready to tell us all about their lives.

Ten years on, Tottenham has one of the UK’s fastest-growing rates of unemployment, the latest statistic in the region’s long history of joblessness and poverty. Many of its residents, like poor people across the country, live paycheck to paycheck, at risk of financial ruin should they experience a single upheaval. Ten years on, the most reliable predictor of success and financial stability in the UK (as in many developed countries) is now considered to be the circumstances of your birth. The idea of social mobility is more irrelevant than ever, with much of your destiny decided before you are even born. Ten years on, almost a quarter of the population of the UK lives in poverty.

Ten years on, continued austerity, government apathy and cuts to social services has meant that, yes, ten years really is enough time for everything to stay the same. Without change, the problems people face become generational, systemic. Some people tell me that the 1980s were like this for certain families, regions, populations. I didn’t know. We were doing okay. Perhaps I didn’t get it, didn’t notice it, didn’t want to think about it.

Ten years on, Mark Duggan’s family filed a civil claim against the Metropolitan Police and were awarded an undisclosed sum, after his death was officially ruled a lawful killing in 2014. Lawyers for the Duggan claim commissioned this in-depth report on the shooting, which illustrated many problems with the official police version of events.

Ten years on, the UK government is trying to curtain the right to protest. It commissioned a review that concluded that the country has no systemic racism. It wants to limit the powers of the Electoral Commission and has considered conflating the concepts of whistleblowing and leaking with spying, meaning those who leak information could be treated as criminals. It is increasingly intent on punishing those who might express dissatisfaction.

And ten years on, as we all know, wages have not risen to match the rising costs of rent, food, utilities or transport. It sure costs a lot just to live.

Finally, in 2018, the UN Special Rapporteur on Poverty and Human Rights visited the United Kingdom and did speak with many of its poor. The resulting exhaustive and damning report concluded that “statistics alone cannot capture the full picture of poverty in the United Kingdom” and that “much of the glue that has held British society together since the Second World War has been deliberately removed and replaced with a harsh and uncaring ethos.” It described harsh, ill-conceived and out-of-touch support systems devised and doubled down on by a government that not only failed to understand poverty, but that couldn’t even measure it accurately. It also predicted that these things would only get worse, and without any consideration of the effect of extraordinary events, such as a global pandemic.

The government described the report as “barely believable.”

I don’t think any help is coming.

---

There’s a question that sometimes bounces around social media and it asks people this: “What radicalised you?” As if there was some moment that changed a person’s political beliefs and rearranged their perspective on the world.

Here’s the thing. I feel like my perspective is from the floor, skewed and sore after I fell between two stools, always unable to find an identity amongst wider British culture. I grew up too comfortable, too spoiled and too well-spoken to call myself working class, but I was easily alienated by schoolfriends with multiple bathrooms and university-educated parents. My interests and my sentiments aren’t supposed to be working class, but many of my life experiences and even philosophies are. I know what it’s like to memorise Shakespeare and to explain themes in Romantic-era art, as much as I know what it’s like to fight government systems that are ostensibly supposed to help, to be unable to afford your own home, to walk into a supermarket and look at staple foods you still can’t afford. You think about Descartes and then you think about which dinner provides the cheapest way to keep your body alive.

When I was a kid I remember going to friend’s houses where they were too poor to clean the carpet, or seeing them lose a parent to lung cancer, or the time someone showed me a gun hidden in their brother’s car. As an adult I wrote to my politicians to ask them what they were doing about poverty, about education, about the cost of living. I went to protests and signed petitions and supported charities both practically and financially. I suppose I was trying to articulate some of the skills I’d learned from in some situations to articulate the experiences I’d had in others. Surely you have to do something.

I both resent and appreciate aspects of both classes and I imagine I’ll never work out who I am or what I’m supposed to call myself. But I do know there are vastly different worlds and vastly different experiences within British culture and that many continue to be overlooked even when in plain sight. And it’s what I find most frustrating.

If there was one thing I learned, if not one thing that radicalised me, it wasn’t simply that poverty never goes away, it’s that it always needs to be explained. There are always, always people who don’t get it, who don’t notice it, who don’t want to think about it or who will puzzle over it from a distance as if it were some transient mirage they can never hope to touch. Those in power will continue to make decisions about poverty that they do not experience, in spite of the fact that making financially comfortable people the authority on money is like making able-bodied people the authority on wheelchair access, like making men the authority on women’s bodies, like making white people the authority on racism.

And so, ten years on, here I am again, writing about Tottenham, about class, about poverty and about ignorance, and only from a slightly different angle. I will write about these things more, not least because I’ve already started another work on these themes, but mostly because I will always need to. I don’t imagine that, during my lifetime, the explaining will ever stop. I don’t imagine that our societies will give up on punishing people for being poor in a world where it is so often simply too expensive to be alive. And I don’t imagine I will have any more patience for people who imagine it will all blow over.

I refuse to let you middle-class your way out of this.

I don’t have any solutions to these enormous and complex problems. I don’t have exhaustive lists of who exactly to blame or where precisely everything has gone wrong. But here’s what I believe: If we don’t talk about poverty, and if we don’t listen to those caught inside of it, it will never go away, and there will be infinitely more Tottenhams.

[heraldofzaun]

what are your thoughts on viktor and being neurodivergent? though like, obligatory disclaimer that if riot ever did come out and say that "hey! viktor is canonically [something]" that would be catastrophic but i think it is a little bit of fun for consideration

Oh! Well I like to think he's autistic, which is partially because I am too. (Of course in canon it would be catastrophic because haha, oh man, look at how they've treated Blitzcrank's biographies ever since they gave him an updated one. There's some coding in there, alright, and I am... not a fan...)

I’ve posted a lot of long posts recently (this is no exception) and this is also on a kind of tricky subject, so I’m readmore’ing it.

So anyways, while I have to admit that some of the reason why (my) Viktor is autistic is because I am - I think that you can make a general semi-convincing argument. Or I'm so wrapped up in my own interpretations that I can, at the least. Anyways, from here on out when I say Viktor I mean my personal take. Your mileage may vary on applying this to other interpretations.

(Also, thoughts on new lore Jayce's being kind of coded to be like, a stereotypical autistic dude? (If you have any I mean.) I don't like that Riot is doing it, of course, but I've seen a few good rehabilitative takes on it in fandom. @hamartio's Jayce springs to mind, because their Jayce has been developed over the years and also written by someone who like. Cares. Anyways, I have my own personal Jayce ideas that rely on his old lore so he's not really an asshole there, at least in those regards, so I don't really have many thoughts on new Jayce. I think new Viktor is... pretty coded as well, but it’s also insanely stereotypical. The whole “always working, always wants certainty, gets into automation not because he (primarily) wants to help those injured by catastrophes in Zaun but because the catastrophes interrupt his work” thing makes me uncomfortable. Maybe I’ll write sometime on why the rewrite of his lore fails, in my opinion, to hit upon the same themes of his first - would that be of interest to folks? Anyways, this parenthetical is too long.)

I think that autistic Viktor is cool and makes sense, somewhat because of the fact that the ways he goes about solving his problems are, er, unorthodox. (Of course I am not saying that the GE is because he’s autistic, because that’s stupid. This is why I’m kind of squirrely about talking so openly about what I think Viktor’s got going on, and why I don’t really trust if a non-autistic person headcanons him as autistic. There’s a lot of room for that headcanon to just reinforce the “autistic people are supergeniuses with no emotions that work based off of Facts and Logic” trope, and I hate that.) Since a lot of autism is about feeling adrift from/at odds with neurotypical society, I think that Viktor’s general solutions and also his idealistic leanings in the face of everything Zaun is tracks for that. Roboticization makes sense as a way to stop suffering and death, because it’s more achievable than individual feats of immortality through magic or whatever. Viktor doesn’t really get why people would be so opposed to it - he’s made it clear that while he dislikes his own emotions and wants them gone, he doesn’t expect others to cast off theirs. (Maybe he expected that when he was in the thick of his emotional pain, mostly because he couldn’t imagine others choosing differently than he at the time, but not in the current day.)

Of course, externally, when the scary cyborg man who admits to cutting off his own limbs says “no, being a robot is cool, you can keep your emotions even”, any Zaunite (or any person) is going to interpret that as “he is definitely lying”. Viktor doesn’t quite make that leap. (I have thoughts on the whole Theory of Mind concept and I don’t mean to say that Viktor can’t empathize - he does, and does too much - with others, but I think that in this instance he just can’t quite understand sometimes why people don’t believe him.) He also doesn’t quite get why people would be so attached to the bodies that they’re currently in, especially if he can make a mechanical replica. Or why people might want to die and pass into non-existence after a life well lived. (To him, personally, there’s always more to do. Also he’s terrified of death but that’s another topic.)

I also think that Viktor’s empathy is of the hyper- rather than hypo- kind, partially because I feel like outside of self-advocacy groups the mere concept of autistic hyperempathy is seen as like... impossible? It’s also because he generally seems to be kind of an emotional guy in canon before Stanwick, what with the lore saying that “almost no trace of the original man remained” in reference to Viktor reemerging as someone without emotions. That, combined with the fact that he was described as having a “hope to better society” before everything went down, kind of makes me believe that he was a naive idealist type. (Again, not that autism makes you naive, but...) But yes, hyperempathy. Hence "no pain, no wars, no suffering, no death” being part of his ideology for the Glorious Evolution. He gets pretty ripped up about people being hurt, and it’s really only gotten worse over the years as he’s grasped the full scope of pain in the world.

Personally, I write pre-Stanwick-incident Viktor as someone who is still somewhat awkward with expressing emotion, but it’s not due to him not having them. It’s due to the fact that the ways in which he naturally expressed them and in which he interacted with the world were just... seen as odd/different/etc. (I don’t think Runeterra has an autism diagnosis or particularly excellent psychology, even in Piltover and Zaun, so he just gets the “you’re a weird dude” treatment for his entire life.) Stimming or smiling a certain way or talking a lot about his interests or, you know, the general autistic existence is weird to most people around him, as it unfortunately is in real life. So he’s more reserved until you actually know him, because he’s just masking all the time. (Fun fact about my Viktor: he’s pretty expressive under that actual mask of his. It helps to not have to micromanage expressions all the time when he isn’t experiencing a bout of flat affect due to [gestures vaguely at everything else going on with his mental state], although he sometimes feels poorly about not being able to manage himself. But that’s his issues, and I think it’s good for him to show emotion.)

Side note - Stanwick was able to do such a number on Viktor due to: a) Stanwick being very charismatic and manipulative, on top of being an actually smart man and scientist - he’s really a great example of a “good Zaunite”, in the sense of being good at being what the culture rewards, b) Viktor actively dealing with the death of his parents and Stanwick being an older adult who’d treated him kindly and had never seemed put-off by Viktor’s oddities, and c) Viktor not realizing that he’d get backstabbed, because yes he knows that that happens in academia but Stanwick’s nice. Whether or not the outcomes would have been the same if Viktor were more competent at being “a good Zaunite”... well, probably not. Viktor ended up where he did because of who he is.

(Secondary side note: Viktor has a very strong and very black-and-white sense of what’s right and wrong, as well as general black-and-white thinking. You can see how that would have... not helped in the situations he was put through.)

This is getting kind of rambling, but I guess the point of this is that Viktor’s wanting to remove his emotions may be cloaked in the language of them being “inefficient” or “unhelpful”, which would feed into autistic stereotypes, but it’s really more of a matter of them being too painful and raw for him to process. He feels too much and hurts too much, and no amount of positive emotions in the world will (in his mind) make up for the pain he’s felt and will feel. So it’s better to not feel anything at all, isn’t it? At least then you aren’t overwhelmed by it all.

Viktor just hasn’t fit in with Zaun for all his life, really. Not as an odd child who can tell you all about science-fiction and techmaturgy, not as an odd and reserved teenager/young adult, not as a bright young doctoral student still dealing with grief but trying to make the best of it, and... not as the Machine Herald. But now he’s given up on trying to fit in, for better or for worse.

(Other miscellaneous and less serious autistic thoughts on him: generally a pretty fixed diet, partially due to being autistic but also due to what’s easily available in Zaun + what agrees with his stomach. A fan of weight and pressure - I like to think that the reason his outfit is like that is that he finds it comforting, and also that he has a weighted blanket or two around. Special interests of general techmaturgy, robotics, and science-fiction. He can talk for hours about any of those, and has. Both his parents were mildly spectrum-y, his mother a little bit moreso, so they just kinda assumed that him being him was out-of-the-ordinary and a bit strange but not something “horribly wrong”. Oh! And his third arm, which is under a little less conscious control than the rest of him, still stims sometimes when he’s working or otherwise not paying attention to it.)

This was very long and jumped around a lot, because I find it hard to give a convincing paragraph-by-paragraph argument about exactly why I think that Viktor is autistic, or rather why I headcanon him as such. But hopefully it was interesting! I just have a lot of thoughts on him, as well as the general state of autistic-coded or perceived-as-autistic-by-individuals (both allistic and autistic) characters in media and so it’s very hard to do anything concise without branching out into discussing other topics.