#what's stopping it from attacking the real world non stop

[iidsch]

also more codelyokoposting but I really really dig XANA as a villain. It's not a person with a complex background that led them down the path of evil, it's not a morally grey character you sympathize with but condemn. It's a powerful AI capable of controlling almost anything in the real world. It doesn't have a face or a body, we only know it for its symbol and for the monsters it controls in the virtual world. It's willing not just to kill people through various methods (poisoning, drowning, car crash, fucking space lasers too?) but also Earth as a whole (it tried to blow up a NUCLEAR PLANT and crash two trains with toxic chemicals in them). And we don't even know why it does this, at least not for now. It may not even have a particular reason, just some sort of virus or malware in the form of an AI that seeks nothing but destruction without any goals in mind. This "pure evil" characteristic doesn't come off as childish, like in some children cartoons, it's just kind of scary to think that such an incomprehensible and destructive force exists, almost feels like a natural disaster

[kaiser1ns]

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: you hated him from the moment he showed up at the bastard munchen tryouts — you can't stand him, it's impossible, or so you thought.

╹contents :: 8.9 k words aka word vomit, fluff and two kind of suggestive scenes,mostly pre-timeskip kaiser, reader is football fanatic, kaiser loves to annoy her(he is just in love with her), just one teenager denying their feelings while the other is clearly in love, mentions of her parents - to clarify they are not dead !, mentions of real players from the actual club bayern munchen, i don't know if I can put this in the slow burn section? she hates him but she loves him.

╹notes :: 100 followers special i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this, please spare me. sorry for any grammar mistakes, hope you enjoy! for my one and only, and big thanks to @kooriou 🤍

You hated Michael Kaiser from the first moment he stepped into Bastard München Academy, an instant wave of annoyance washed over you. His arrogance and presence got on your nerves, making it impossible to even look at him. But you had to — that was your job as a future assistant coach for the best team in Germany, and who knows maybe you can snatch your uncle's position as manager.

As the tryouts unfolded, you observed him closely, jotting down notes on his skills and trying to give him some initial stats, which to your dismay were either tier A or S. Despite the irritation, there was no point in lying, he was outstanding and he knew what he was doing - or rather, he knew what he wanted. You saw as he teamed up with the boy who wore the jersey with number 20. They made up a pretty good duo, and with Ness's passes and Kaiser's fast attacks, no one could stop them. 

Perhaps beneath the thorny exterior, Michael Kaiser was the player Bastard München looked for—someone who could elevate them to new heights. As the final whistle blew, you already knew the outcome that they would both be accepted into the team, and you'd have to get used to seeing his face almost every day. You got up and walked over to your uncle as all the recruits were lined up, looking at them, as your eyes landed on the striker with with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue rose tattoo on his neck. You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows and with squinted eyes, a silent expression of displeasure etching across your face.

In that subtle gesture, frustration found a physical form; it was a language spoken without words, a non-verbal protest to whatever disturbance had disrupted your peace — and the one who caused it starred back at you, smirking smugly at you, but he turned back to listen to the coach's speech.

"And with that, we welcome you in Bastard Munchen. We hope you will meet and exceed our expectations, and now I will give the word to my niece Y/N who will also work with all of you youngsters." You were still lost in the staring contest with the boy who paid you no mind, and now everyone looked at you, some were getting scared seeing you so oppressed by something; were they that bad that the coach had to ask his niece about another opinion?

Your uncle cleared his throat, making you come back to the real world, a little taken back from the sudden shift of focus. "Ah, yes, of course." as you stood there with all of your glory and pride like you were the president and everyone waited for your long waited speech "As the future of Bastard Munchen, you will be the ones to continue the legacy set by the club's legendary players. Work hard so you can achieve your goals, as you should always believe in yourself. Make every impossibility a reality." 

Your words echoed through the training grounds, making the boys happy to hear something from a beautiful girl - in one way or another, something had to keep them going. As you finished your speech, you caught his eye again, but this time, there was a glimmer of amusement. Was there anything wrong with the things you said? You tried your best to sound like every coach who talks to their team with all the "work hard and give your best shot" stuff. You hope you won't become like that in the future.

Your uncle nodded approvingly, signaling the end of the meeting. The boys started leaving one by one, but the blue-eyed genius stayed, approaching you with confidence.

”Impressive speech, Little Miss, but actions speak louder than words, don't they?" he remarked with a smirk, leaving you with a mix of irritation. You haven't even known each other for a day and you already want to gouge out his eyes. "Talk about yourself, Mister. Show results, and then talk to me again."

Kaiser chuckled, his smile growing wider as he came closer to you, rising a hand as he delicately slid his fingers under your chin, lifting it ever so slightly, your breath hitched from the sudden move.

"We share some similar goals, I will give you that. Be sure to watch me making the impossible your new reality." he walked away, leaving you standing there like a statue - a blushing statue at that.

You definitely hate him.

WEEK 2 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

In the following weeks, as training sessions progressed and the team started bonding, you couldn't deny that Michael's skills were exceptional. Despite his arrogant attitude, there was a reason why he wore that smug expression. The team was carried by his influence, and you found yourself unfortunately acknowledging his impact. Kaiser Impact, huh? That’s one way to call it.

He approached you, the smirk replaced by a genuine smile. "Not bad, right? I noticed the way you looked only at me," he said, as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure as you handed him a water bottle "Don't get too comfortable now. This doesn't mean you're off the hook. There's still a long way to go."

The blonde boy chuckled, seemingly unfazed, taking the bottle from your hand, making your fingers briefly touch as he kept eye contact. "I wouldn't want it any other way, Prinzessin. Now what are my stats? I’m sure they went higher." You shot him a skeptical glance, unimpressed by his playfulness. "Stats? Do you mean your nonexistence score? Like in a video game or something," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed at your comment. "Maybe not a game, but God's challenge, and I'm here to be the best of the best and eventually surpass Noel Noa," he replied with a cocky grin.

Rolling your eyes once more, you couldn't deny the feeling you had when talking back at him. "Fine, let's humor your challenge sent from above for a moment. Strength: still lacking, form: needs improvement, and humility: nonexistent," you assessed, ticking off imaginary boxes in the air. "But hey, you did manage to catch my attention for being the most annoying person I have ever met, so I'll give you that."

Kaiser raised his eyebrows, took a sip from the water bottle, and said, "Well, Prinzessin, catching your attention is just another bonus for me." You scoffed, "Smooth talker, aren't you? But like you said actions speak louder than words, so do me a favor and leave me alone, you are not the only one who has to work hard."

His eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he took a step closer, narrowing the distance between you. "Oh, I plan on proving myself in more ways than one. Consider this just the beginning." With that, he went back to the others, leaving you to wonder whether he was genuinely committed to improving or just enjoying getting under your skin.

Deciding to continue your work – which for now was to arrange the water and the towels ready for the players – paying no mind to the world around you, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, thinking it was Kaiser again, but it was your uncle - the head coach. His touch was firm yet comforting, a familiar presence amidst the chaos made by the young athletes.

You turned around, a mixture of surprise and relief coloring your expression. Your uncle, Franz Bauer, wore a knowing smile that hinted comfort “How are you doing so far, Y/N? Is something or rather someone bothering you?” He spoke in a low, reassuring tone. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, grateful for your uncle's concern, but you found it strange how he always knows and notices when you have trouble.

"I'm managing, Uncle Franz," you replied, a faint smile on your lips. "Just the usual, dealing with boys my age. Nothing that I can't handle."

His gaze held a depth of understanding, and as he nodded at you. "I appreciate the help. You know, you remind me of my younger self because I too was an errand kid."

He wanted something from you, and you knew it by the way he started to talk about how much you were like him as a child. He always does it. "Just get to the point. Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

Franz laughed slightly ”You do catch up quickly,” his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "I've been observing you, and I can't help but notice the way you look at the team, wanting to comment on the formations, the positions, and the players themselves. I've been thinking about expanding your role in the team, perhaps as an assistant coach."

The proposition caught you off guard, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Assistant coach? Uncle, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I have the experience for that."

He placed a hand on your shoulder again, a reassuring squeeze. "Well, you will be an assistant coach in training. Experience is gained through opportunities, Y/N. I see potential in you, a natural talent." your eyes widen suddenly “So, for the rest of the training session, you will be the boss.”

“But I-” he cut you off by standing behind you and pushing you forward “No objections, or I'll call your parents to pick you up. You don’t want that, right?” having no time to answer, you were next to the other coaching staff as your uncle gave a thumbs up from the benches with water and towels. That old bastard Well, you better be here training some naive and arrogant footballers, than being home studying economics.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the challenge, even if you didn't want to. As you stepped onto the field, the weight of the whistle in your hand felt foreign, yet empowering. The players eyed you curiously, some exchanging glances, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. Gathering the team you began to give orders. "You will go against the first team and clash with amazing players like Noel Noa, Thomas Muller, Manuel Neuer and Joshua Kimich. But let go of the thoughts about the big bad wolves chasing you - you shall become the chaser." Your uncle watched from the sidelines as if he knew something you didn't. "So for starters, we are changing the formation to 4-2-3-1 as Kaiser will be the top of the attack, Ness you will be the attacking midfielder so you gotta keep an eye on blondie over here, but also beware of your rivals. "

The players exchanged glances again, as Kaiser and Ness shared a look - shocked at your words. Is this even going to work? Is she for real? You took a moment to gauge their reactions before continuing. "Remember, this is a training session, and mistakes are welcomed. Now, destroy them."

As the training progressed, the intensity of the practice match increased, with each player giving their best to impress you. As the team executed the adjusted formation, you observed them. Kaiser made strategic moves upfront, Ness showcased skillful ball control, and the defense held its ground against the opponents.

In a surprising turn of events, the U-20 team began to dominate the match. GOAL, As you blew the final whistle after Kaiser scored the 5th and final goal of the game, ending practice. He looked at you, and again with that smile - full of self-confidence. You wanted to throw the whistle at his stupid-looking face. The sidelines erupted in cheers from the staff as your uncle gave you an approving nod, acknowledging the success of your "coaching debut", approaching you with a proud smile. "See, Y/N? You have it in you. You made them believe in the impossible about beating the old dogs, and they did it."

After the game, the players gathered around for a brief post-match discussion. The atmosphere was a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Kaiser, still riding the high of his decisive goal, approached you with a smirk.

"Well, well, well, Y/N. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd make me the star of the show," he said putting his arm on your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let his teasing get to you. "This was just a practice match. Let's see if you can replicate this performance in a real game."

He chuckled, "Oh, I plan on it. Just watch, Y/N."

Ness, who had been listening to the conversation, chimed in, "I have to admit, I didn't think this would work, but it did. Maybe you're not as clueless as I thought."

You shot him a glare, "Yeah, thanks Ness." The purple-haired grinned, "No problem. Just keeping you on your toes."

As the midfielder went away, sensing that his partner wanted alone time with you, Kaiser lingered for a moment, a more genuine expression on his face. "You know, Y/N, for a moment there, I almost thought you enjoyed it. Admit it being in charge, making your own choices..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Kaiser. This was just one game. We'll see how things go in an actual game."

Kaiser looked at you, his grip tightening. "Fair enough. But, if you ever need to test some tactics, you know where to find me~."

You scoffed, removing his hand from your shoulder, "I'm not going to Hell, thank you." he continued to look at you in a way unknown to you, making you feel kinda strange "Well, maybe just a quick visit. You might find it surprisingly pleasant." You rolled your eyes again, but there was something in your chest that you were very unfamiliar with. "I'll consider it, but this doesn't mean I like you or anything."

The boy chuckled, a teasing sound coming from his lips. "Oh, I'm not expecting you to confess your undying love for me just yet, Y/N. But I have to admit, that was flattering." You shot him a skeptical look, feeling a little hot for some unknown reason. Are you getting sick? No, that shouldn’t be it, maybe is the adrenaline, yeah that’s it.

"Is that your idea of a compliment?" He shrugged, noticing how your checks started to turn red "Take it however you want. Just remember, I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves the impossible of winning you over, Erdbeere(Strawberry)."

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected nickname, playing on your face. "Erdbeere? Really?"

Kaiser grinned, undeterred by your reaction. "It suits you. Sweet, but with a bit of a bite. Plus, it's fun to see that tough exterior of yours crack a little."

You sighed, realizing that arguing with him would only fuel his teasing. "Whatever. Just focus on keeping up with the same performance as today"

He winked playfully, "Oh, I'll keep up, Erdbeere. Count on it."

as Kaiser turned to leave, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. The teasing smile on his face softened, revealing a hint of something more genuine. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said, his tone unexpectedly earnest.

You watched him go, and as the distance between you and him grew, you felt something. It was a feeling you couldn't quite describe, leaving you to question it.

Alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the conversation and the teasing remarks in your mind. Kaiser's parting words echoed, and the unexpected nickname he made up for you.

"Erdbeere," you whispered to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you liked the sound of it - just maybe, you will let it slide this time.

WEEK 4 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

After the whole fiasco with the practice match and the “Strawberry incident”, as you liked to call it, the work in the facility was getting harder - running left and right to do tasks, printing documents, ordering equipment, dealing with the teasing remarks of this annoyingly tall boy with long gold locks and light blue eyes deep as the ocean you will let him drown. If he was on fire and you had a bottle of water - you'd drink it in front of him. Yet, amid the chaos, Michael Kaiser always managed to appear, like a haunting ghost, ready to jumpscare you in the most unexpected time.

One day, rushing to deliver some documents to the medical unit, he appeared beside you. His smirk was infuriatingly present, and his voice dripped with playful arrogance.

"Running again, Y/N? You should consider joining the team as a midfielder with all that sprinting you're doing." You shot him a warning look "Maybe if you spent less time making comments and more time working, we'd get things done faster."

Kaiser chuckled, unbothered. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'm just trying to lighten the mood, you are always so stressed."

"Your idea of 'fun' is questionable." you said, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach that his teasing somehow managed to evoke.

As you reached the department of the medical unit, you thought you finally got rid of him. However, fate had other plans. On your way back, he appeared again, blocking your way. His tall frame casted a shadow over you, and his mischievous smile widened.

"Michael, move." you demanded with the use of his first name, trying to sound stern, but he merely leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"What's the rush, Y/N? Can't I talk to my amazing assistant coach?" he retorted, his eyes never leaving yours.

Annoyed, you attempted to sidestep him, but he effortlessly mirrored your movements. It became a silent dance, a game of cat and mouse in the narrow corridor. Every step you took, he countered, maintaining his blockade.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just for me?" he teased, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Seriously, Kaiser, this isn't funny," you protested, feeling the irritation building up.

But he remained still, his teasing facade never fading. "Come on, now, Don't lie to yourself, you secretly enjoy our little meetings. The way your eyes light up when you see me says it all."

You scoffed, sticking out your tongue, "In your dreams." Deciding you'd had enough, you abruptly turned on your heel and started walking in the opposite direction. To your dismay, he followed, like a persistent shadow. The facility's corridors echoed with the sound of your hurried footsteps and his leisurely ones behind you until the two of you found yourselves in an empty, dimly lit room.

"Honestly what's your deal? Are you stalking me now? You like stalking girls? That's disgusting." you accused, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, leaning his back to the wall once again, while you were in the center of the room. "Stalking is such a harsh word. Let's call it... coincidental alignment of paths."

You groaned, turning to leave. However, in your haste, you tripped over your own feet and stumbled forward. In a split second, Kaiser went off the wall as he reached out his hands attempting to catch you mid-fall. Despite his efforts, fate had its way again, and you both fell, as you landed on top of him. Your arms were at the sides of his head, and your legs wrapped around his torso.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, your eyes widened in surprise, your face millimeters from his, your lips slightly parting as you felt your whole body burning as your heart raced to the rhythm of an unspoken melody. Seeing his features closer, he was beautiful, and now you are the one drowning in the deep blue ocean that his eyes painted. You didn't know what was going on — you didn't know what emotions you were going through, as Kaiser's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, an unfamiliar but very welcomed warmth spread over your body.

"I-I didn't mean to—this wasn't what I—"

"I've heard of falling for someone, but this is taking it quite literally," He teased, breaking the silence with his flirting, snapping you out of your trance.

You struggled to maintain your composure as you shuttered, attempting to push yourself off him. "G-get off me," your heart continued its upbeat dance, and you couldn't shake off the vivid image of his blue eyes that seemed to have cast a spell on you. 

"Technically, you are on top of me, Prinzessin" blushing furiously as Kaiser's teasing smirk only fueled your embarrassment, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole. The room felt like it had turned into a sauna, the tension thick enough to be cut off with a knife.

Just as the bickering reached its peak, the door swung open, and Ness, the ever-curious magician, stood in the doorway. His eyes widened at the scene before him, feeling a little confused at the sight.

"Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?" Ness quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Y/N and Kaiser. The two of you exchanged a quick, panicked glance, unsure of how to respond. "Yes/No!," Kaiser and you blurted out, your faces turning even redder. Kaiser, unfazed by the interruption, grinned, while you desperately tried to stay calm as possible.

Ness raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. "Really? Because it looks like I walked in on a very romantic moment of your little play. Do I need to put on some slowed music?" He walked into the room, closing the door behind him as he continued to stare at the two of you. "I had no idea I was walking into a romantic drama." You shot a glare at Kaiser, who only winked in response. Trying to divert the attention, you stammered, "N-no, Ness, it's not what you think. We were just..." Your voice trailed off as you struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

He, on the other hand, couldn't resist. "Well, it depends on your definition of interrupting." Ness chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to your... whatever this is."  The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by your attempts to get up from Kaiser. "We were just, uh, having a disagreement," you finally managed to say, avoiding eye contact with both Ness and Kaiser.

Kaiser, ever the charmer, grinned at Ness. "Disagreements can be quite physical, apparently." Ness shook his head, still grinning. "Well, carry on, then. I'll just pretend I didn't see anything." As he left the room, he couldn't resist adding, "But next time, maybe lock the door." As the door closed behind Ness, you let out a breath you didn't realize were holding. Kaiser, however, couldn't help but laugh. "Quite the entrance, huh? Maybe we should argue more often."

Rolling your eyes at Kaiser's comment, you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp as you stood up in the fastest way possible, and he also rose from the ground. "Arguing more often? I think once is more than enough," you retorted, shooting him a disapproving look. Kaiser, still grinning, stretched lazily and got up from the floor. Ness's interruption had shifted the atmosphere in the room, and you couldn't shake off the embarrassment that lingered. "Thanks a lot for that," you muttered, shooting Kaiser another glare.

Seemingly unbothered, he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Me? I didn't do anything. Ness just has unpredictable timing." He winked again, causing you to shake your head in disbelief. "Unpredictable timing, my foot. When will you stop with all of this? I can’t even have one peaceful day without you talking to me and saying all these things that you probably don’t even mean. Does it feel nice to play with someone’s feelings?"

Kaiser's smile faltered for a moment, his lively expression fading away as he saw yours. "Maybe I overdo it sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to believe his sincerity or dismiss it as another one of his tricks. "Actions speak louder than words, Kaiser. If you genuinely care, maybe try showing it in a way that doesn't involve constant teasing and sarcasm."

The tension between you and him lingered as you both stared into each other's eyes trying to find answers locked in the depth of your souls. Finally, you decided it was time to leave "I'm going to go find Ness and make sure he doesn't go spreading any rumors," you announced, turning to leave the room. As you walked away, your mind was a swirling mess of emotions—something you couldn’t tell. He was still vivid in your thoughts, causing a knot to tighten in your stomach. As you looked behind, he was still there dusting off his clothes.

You furrowed your brows, awaiting the unknown territory of your own feelings. The warmth creeping into your cheeks and the soft tears started to paint over your face like rain. It was an unfamiliar sense, leaving you questioning the source. Was it just fire or something deeper that can get you burned?

1 WEEK LATER:

As the days passed, you found yourself avoiding him, unsure of what to think or feel. Everything was so messed up, that you barely slept or ate - when you were not helping your uncle in the faculty, you were at school, where suddenly your grades dropped, and you made excuses for your teachers and friends that you were busy with work - which is partly not a lie but not the whole truth either. Everyone sensed that something was troubling you, even so, you'd rather not tell a single living soul about it all. You couldn't escape the memories of that day, replaying the moment in your mind like a broken record.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize that someone was next to you as you continued to pour water into the already full bottle that was overflowing over the sink until the person in question shook you by the shoulders. Without much reaction you turned around, your gaze clearly showing the sadness and lifelessness all over your face, you were tired of thinking about him. Your focus returned, the person in front of you was your uncle who was visibly worried about you. "What's going on, my dear? You know you can share everything with your old man" he said, the pain in his eyes to see his niece so down for the past week “It’s nothing … I am just trying to manage school and work.” Another lie left your lips.

Uncle Franz placed a gentle smile on his face. "I've known you since you were a kid. I can see through that facade. Something's eating you inside, and it's more than just school and work. Talk to me." You sighed, the weight of the past week bearing down on you. "It's just complicated, Uncle. I don't know how to put it into words."

He guided you to sit down at the bench near the sink, "Try me. I might be old, but I've been around the block a few times. I am sure it’s a boy problem. Because your mother was the same when she met your dad.”

How does he know it’s about a boy? Honestly, that was shocking to hear. Does he know about the strange situationship between you and Kaiser? Well, you hope he doesn't. Taking a deep breath, you began, "There's this boy, that I met not long ago, and let's say some things happened, and now I'm stuck in this mess. I can't escape it, and it's tearing me apart."

Your uncle listened intently, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Love can be a tricky thing, my dear. But keeping it all bottled up inside won't help. Who is this guy, and what happened?" Is that what they call love? Feeling this way because it's terrible not knowing what you want from yourself—you hesitated to answer, unsure if you want to share the details. "It's just someone, not a big deal."

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Your eyes widened upon your uncle’s question, and your eyes started to water, as you tried your best not to cry again. Starting to have a thing for someone is a hell of a ride, so you are going to play dumb "I don't know a person by that name." Not that dumb.

Uncle Franz leaned back. "You can deny it all you want, my dear, but your eyes just told me everything I needed to know." Feeling a mix of embarrassment, you laughed nervously, “I think you should go and get your eyes checked, you are starting to see things.” he looked at you with raised eyebrows, apparently he didn't believe you - no one would in those circumstances.

"Okay, maybe it is Michael. But it's complicated. He's so confusing, and I don't even know what he wants."

Uncle Franz patted your head ruffling your hair, "You don't know because you haven't tried talking to him. You should not be scared; just do what your heart wants.” and maybe he was right, he was always right. You just smiled at him, whipping your tears, letting him know you would try - someday eventually. “But if he hurts you one more time, we will have serious problems.” You laughed nervously, should you be scared or just revealed - guess there's one way to find out.

He stood up from the bench looking at you once more "Now cheer up and come with me, there is something I need to tell everyone on the team” and you also went with him, going into the field where they practiced.

A whistle signaled it was time for a break. Everyone gathered around the benches as you stayed closely behind your uncle, who clapped his hands, turning everyone's attention onto him, except for the boy with the blond hair who was looking at you. He took a good look at you - first at your lips, which were stuck together like a solid line, then your eyes, they shimmered with traces of sadness, yet beneath the surface, something else lingered, revealing your soul. Each glance reflected the emotions within your heart. Have you been crying? Is it because of me? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably the reason for your sorrow. As the others chatted, he found himself unable to look away, his attention remained fixed on you, trying to ignore the questions swirling in his mind. 

“Even if it’s a friendly game with Dortmund’s U-20, we should give our best, okay? Make sure to get enough sleep and don’t skip your meals, it’s important to have your body and mind in top shape.” your uncle's voice spoke once more as the rest of the team could be heard agreeing on the upcoming friendly game with the club's biggest rival “And Kaiser you better be excellent, no missing targets, no missing shots, no mistakes. I want you to be focused next week, on the maximum output, got it?” then the coach addressed him specifically, and for the first time, Kaiser was somewhat frightened by his look, which held something very personal against him. “Yes, sir. I will do my best” he replied, masking his uneasiness with confidence. “Good, now the training is over. You can go to your dorms and rest.”

And with that, everyone scattered, leaving just the two of you, feeling his gaze still lingering on. His blue eyes seemed to be looking into your soul, he knew what was wrong with you and that he was the reason behind it all. He wanted to apologize to you, he really did, but something was stopping him and he didn't know what exactly. Come on, say something. Alas nothing came out from his mouth, and you just turned and left without saying a word, even if you wanted to talk to him too — you didn't, leaving him with his feeling of guilt.

A FEW DAYS LATER:

The day for the team to leave for Dortmund came, as there were no problems with the flight, but now you were at the hotel, where a big misunderstanding occurred. Being part of the female staff, you had to share a room with one of them, but the hotel receptionist thought you were part of the boy’s team, being a teenager. While everyone was settled, you stayed in the lobby as your uncle talked with the hotel staff, and Ness and Kaiser stood across from you on the sofa. The two of them were talking, and you were lost in thoughts about whether a room would be found for you. 

Your uncle returned from the reception "The problem is solved," he said as you were more than happy to go to your room and enjoy some alone time, "But you will have a room tomorrow, because some of the guests will be leaving then," and your smile faded away, faster than it appeared.

At that moment, Ness nudged Kaiser's shoulder signaling him to act, "I can share my room with you." the striker offered, the keys hanging from his hand with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes widened when you heard the offer. “Absolutely no-”

"Fine, but no funny business." your uncle cut you off, as you looked at him with the most shocked face, your gaze met Kaiser's who had been staring at you this whole time. They can't be serious, you thought, Uncle Franz can't be serious. You mentally facepalmed yourself, having enough headaches, this was just the icing on the cake.

Of all people of course it was him. What did you do in your past life to end up in such situations? Did you murder someone, poison a royalty, or haven’t paid your debt — well you sure are paying it now. 

You got up and took the keys from his hand, eyeing him suspiciously, as you got your luggage and went to the elevator before telling him not to bother you. Well, that wasn't the conversation Kaiser hoped to have with you, but it's still something. He turned to look at your uncle, now that you were not here. “Coach, are you sure this is going to work?” 

Franz chuckled, patting Kaiser on the shoulder. "Sometimes, putting people in unexpected situations helps them see things differently. Who knows, maybe sharing a room will sort the things between you two."

The boy sighed, unsure about how this would play out, as Ness patted him on the back "I just hope she doesn't make this more difficult than it already is."

“And I hope you won’t do anything more than talking. Like I said earlier, no funny business.” Kaiser just nodded “I promise."

Meanwhile, you were in the elevator, still processing the fact that you had to share a room with Kaiser, good thing you won’t sleep on the same bed. As the elevator arrived at your floor you took a deep breath and walked down the corridor, finding the room that matched the key. Opening the door, you were greeted with a very beautiful interior, a nice view of the lively night in Dortmund and ... one bed. Great, things can’t get any worse, can they? 

Placing your suitcase by the bed, opening it and pulling out your pajamas. You started to undress when you heard the door open, seeing wisps of blonde hair. Panicking you raised your voice to him not to enter the room as you were still in your underwear. God, how many awkward situations are there to overcome.

Kaiser froze at the door, his hand still on the handle, as he realized the awkward situation he had just walked into. "Sorry" he quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't know you were... I'll just wait outside.” He said, closing the tiny gap he left open. 

You put on your pajamas faster than Usain Bolt can run. Once you were ready you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you went to open the door to let him enter. It was his room after all, you can't keep him outside even if you wanted to.

As you opened the door, Kaiser stood there, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, so were yours "I'm sorry about that," he apologized again  "I should have knocked, or... I don't know, you should have locked the door. You know, it could have been some stranger.”

Well he was right, you should have locked the door and kept him outside to sleep on the carpet in the hallway. You didn't say anything, you just went and sat on the bed picking up the phone to check the time [22:22] well better make a wish. You ignored him as he sat on the other side of the bed so you were back to back. 

Kaiser cleared his throat, breaking the silence, “I brought you this” he said, handing you a bar of chocolate, still faced with his back. As you took the chocolate you couldn't help but notice the warmth that was forming in your heart, despite the awkwardness. "Thanks," you muttered, feeling a bit guilty for your initial reaction earlier "I'm sorry too," you finally spoke up, turning slightly to face him. "I didn't mean to be rude to you. Well, maybe I did because you deserved it.”

He turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. "It's alright,Y/N”  he said softly, turning around as his eyes met yours. You agreed, offering him a smile too. "So, uh, I'll just go get changed in the bathroom, and then we can go to sleep." You nodded your head again watching as he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, you let out a big sigh, silence enveloping you again. You decided to start making the bed while he was getting changed. Putting the extra pillows between the mattress, marking the ‘territory’ as you lay down and curled up under the covers of your part. 

You heard the door open and then his footsteps approaching, looking up from the barricade he wore a plain white shirt that was more loose, revealing more of his blue rose tattoo, it was a beautiful design you can't lie, and a pair of black shorts. He too looked at the pillowed wall, then at you with raised brows. “If you don't want to share a bed, I can sleep on the couch.” 

“Not that I don't want to, but the couch is too small and neither you nor I can sleep comfortably on it. So that's why I put pillows in the middle, you have your part, and I have mine.” you explained, leaving him a little bit hurt because of this separation, but whatever you are comfortable with, of course. “Well, sure”

He got under his covers, trying to get cozy but the wall next to him was something he wanted to remove. How much longer are you going to hide from him? Did you hate him so much that you didn't want to see him, in the room where you both were? Guess he will talk to you tomorrow.

No, fuck that. He isn't a scaredy cat anymore, he is not the mentally weak person who constantly gave up on things he believed to be impossible. Because the chance to make it up with you is now — it's not tomorrow, it's not the next day, week, month or year. It's now.

He sat up and removed the one pillow that was separating you from seeing your faces. Catching you, closing your eyes, observing your expression how you tried to keep this innocent sleeping face, and how your chest raised with every breath. You were a good assistant and 'architect', but not a good actress.

“Y/N, I know you are not sleeping,” he whispered your name, his voice soft and full of emotion. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, well he got you no point of pretending now. “Let's discuss everything that has happened so far. We are all alone here, no one to interrupt us.”

You sat up too,leaning back on the wooden frame, hugging your knees beneath the fluffy cover. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and warm. He noticed your nervousness, and he reassured you, with a smile "It's okay, You can tell me anything." His voice was soothing, making you calm down. 

You took a deep breath, struggling to form the words you had been holding back for so long. Your heart raced as you finally found the courage to speak, “I... I've been wanting to say... that I... I..." your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you fought against your fear, this was meant to be an easy task, just to talk it out and end of story. But love is no easy task, it's a challenge that you either take and win or leave with the feeling of despair after the loss. You met his gaze, seeing nothing but love reflected back at you. 

“I like you,” you finally confessed “And I didn't know what to do after all the bickering we had, you left me questioning my entire existence. Making me feel all giddy and nervous, making me confused about your own intentions.” you felt a weight lift off your chest, he listened absorbing every word you uttered.

The soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a weight of sincerity that warmed your heart. "More than you can imagine."

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort he offered. "I'm sorry for everything," he murmured, his gaze filled with remorse and affection. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how to approach you properly, and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to have eyes only for me and no one else, to think only of me. The only impossible challenge was to make you fall in love with me, but I don’t think I have to worry anymore ."

You shook your head gently, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand. You hesitated when your lips brushed against his own. You froze. What were you doing, kissing Michael Kaiser? You weren’t even sure if all the hatred you used to hold for him was now gone. He breathed in deeply. “Can I?" You took a moment of thought before you nodded, his hands now cupping your cheeks. His hands were so gentle, but the way he kissed you was not so much. It was like he was starving for you, the kiss sloppy, his tongue licking your lips, trying to taste all of you. 

By the time he stopped, you forgot how to breathe, taking in a deep breath, and so did he. Despite how hot and hungry that kiss was—perhaps even able to fulfill a person's hunger for another—he was still starved for more. His lips brushed against yours once more, this time, there was no hesitation on your part. You leaned into the kiss, letting yourself get lost as you felt him smile.

His hands trailed down your arms as they settled on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's embrace. As the kiss deepened, passion flared between you, igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize the taste of you.

Time seemed not to exist anymore, as all that mattered was the feel of Kaiserl's lips against yours and the way his touch set your skin ablaze with desire. When the kiss finally ended, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. And as you stared into each other's eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul, you knew one thing for sure — he will forever be yours, and you will be forever his.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, making you arise from your deep slumber, slowly opening your eyes, trying to remember where you were. You had a very strange dream where you got to share a room with Kaiser and you two kissed. It was a nice dream indeed but things like this happened only in the romantic movies.

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but something stopped you from standing up. Confusion was encountered because why was there anything stopping you from getting up. As you took in your surroundings, the details of the dream flooded back to you—the shared room, the confession, and most importantly the unexpected kiss. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you questioning whether was it really a dream. Looking down to see the force that kept you in a place came not from anyone - but from Kaiser himself. Wait a damn minute, Kaiser!?, you thought to yourself panicking in the process.

Reaching out and touching Kaiser's shoulder, half expecting him to vanish like a fragment of your imagination, but be was very much real , as his soft breathing and light snores reassured you that he was peacefully asleep. He turned around, pulling you down again, your back leaning against his chest, as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you like a comforting blanket. It wasn't a dream. You were indeed lying beside Michael Kaiser.

Wait, so the kiss is real? No, it can't be... right? A million questions ran through your head as you felt him rest his head on the crook of your neck. You suddenly went numb, but tried to see his face one more time, and to your suprise he blinked, trying to open his eyes, with a smile so angelic, for a person with such devilish persona.

"Good morning, Meine Liebe" he said, his voice husky and raspy. You couldn't help but blush at they way these words came out from him, "Good morning," you managed to reply, your own voice contracts to his was soft, barely above a whisper.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. "About last night..." he started, trailing off as if searching for the right words.

"Yeah?" you gulped, suddenly feeling scared about what he might say next. "I meant every word ," he confessed, his gaze locking with yours. "And I meant that kiss too." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing that everything didn't happened in dreamland. It was real, just like the feelings between the both of you.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, feeling overwhelmed by his intense but loving gaze. "You don't have to," he assured you, moving the hand that rested behind your head to pinch the check he kissed you not a moment ago. "Just know that we are together from now on.”

As you absorbed his words, a mixture of disbelief and joy washed over you. 

"Together, huh?" you echoed, seeking confirmation in his eyes. Kaiser nodded, his expression serious yet filled with a warmth that melted your worries away. "Yes, together. Me and you, like a couple."

A wide smile broke across your face, and you couldn't contain the happiness within you. "I like the sound of it.” you replied, as he smiled back at you. "Glad to hear that, Erdbeere." As you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, a comfortable silence wrapped around both of you. 

"My uncle will kill you tho." Kaiser chuckled, as he played with your hair. "Don't worry about it, he won't."

Somewhere in the hotel restaurant, Uncle Franz was on the verge of killing the first thing he saw because Kaiser was late for breakfast, and so were you. “I am going to kill that boy.”

1 MONTH LATER:

Kaiser touched the strands of his overgrown and messy hair as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, "I need a change," he said to Ness, who was glad to do anything for his friend.

“Like a new hairstyle?” The magician asked, wondering what was wrong with his long hair. “Yeah, Y/N said that it was getting in the way, when we cuddled. And also tying it up while playing every second bothers me.”

“Well, I am willing to help, we should have scissors in the cupboards. Go sit while I find them.” the striker sat down in the chair in front of the mirror when his friend returned with the scissors.

With tentative snips and Ness transformed Kaiser's lion mane into a stylish cut, an improvised mullet you can say. As the blonde boy was looking at himself in the big bathroom mirror, and Ness admiring his final product a knock was heard from the door. You entered with a plastic bag full of snacks — it was their day off, so you thought you’d spoil them a little but.

Proudly, he turned to you, his girlfriend of one month, to hear your opinion. "Yes, definitely! And why not add something more? How about dying the mullet blue? It will match with your tattoo."

“Sounds nice, but we don't have blue dye right now.” Kaiser said, knowing that he will have to ask Ness to go to the store to buy one, “Don't worry, I do.” 

“Liebe, why do you carry hair dye in your bag?” he asked, surprised by the fact you had the item in your backpack “Well, I thought you would need one, intuition I guess.” No, it wasn't an intuition, he just talked everyday about wanting to dye his hair blue and you decided to carry a blue dye, just in case.

Women's intuition is a scary thing, he will know from now on not to mess up anything, because either way, you'll find out. But that was a worry for another day, now Kaiser was very happy with the end results. And it's the Michael Kaiser you will see from now on. 

7 YEARS LATER:

Inside a very beautiful and cozy home, you tried to catch your energetic daughter, Mikaela, who was bubbling with excitement as the day of her dad’s arrival from the football tournament marked on the calendar finally came. Her giggles filled the air as she darted around the house, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, as you yelled while holding your 9-month-old son Matteo in your arms, who was laughing and clapping his hands at the sight, as you attempted to catch the energetic 4-year-old girl. “Mika, please stop running around, or you will hurt yourself.”

“Mama, I can't hear you!” How can she take so much from him, but not me? Just as you attempt to hold onto her tiny hand, the doorbell chimes. "It's Daddy!" Mikaela rushes to the door tip-toeing to reach the handle of the metal and swings it open, revealing your husband standing there, a wide grin on his face at the sight of his daughter.

Kaiser's heart swells with joy at the sight of his daughter waiting for him at the door. He bends down to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as she squeals with delight. "Hey there, my little princess!" he exclaims, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

As Mikaela showers him with hugs and kisses, Kaiser spots Matteo nestled in his wife's arms, a smile spreading across the baby's face as he reaches out his chubby arms towards his father. With a chuckle, Kaiser takes Matteo from you, exchanging a loving glance before enveloping you in a warm embrace, holding you close as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

But their tender moment is interrupted by Mikaela's voice piping up, "Daddy, what about me?" she pouts, her arms outstretched towards her father. Kaiser laughs heartily, balancing Matteo in one arm as he bends down to scoop Mikaela up into his arms once more. He showers her with kisses, making her giggle as he sets her down, as she eagerly reaches out for the brightly wrapped present he’s been hiding behind his back, giving you some time to see each other up close, and not from the small telephone screen.

But before Mikaela can even fully enjoy her new toy, Matteo starts wriggling in his arms. "My little boy missed me too, right?" he coos, as the baby starts laughing from happiness, kicking his little feet, "See Y/N, I told you he is a future football star. Look at that kick!"

As Kaiser holds Matteo, you wrap your arms around him again. "Welcome home, my love," you whisper, giving his lips a little peck. Kaiser returns the embrace, holding you close as he breathes in the familiar scent of home. Just when you think the moment couldn’t get any sweeter, Mikaela pipes up, tugging at Kaiser’s sleeve. "Daddy, what about me? I want more kisses too!" she exclaims, puckering her lips in exaggerated anticipation.

Kaiser chuckles warmly, bending down to scoop Mikaela up once again. "Of course, sweetheart," he says, planting a flurry of kisses on her cheeks as she laughs at her father's teasing and you watch with a smile on your face your small loving family, and how you can't ask for more because you have him and you love him more than anything.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[orgasming-caterpillar]

And It's Too Cold//It's Too Cold

Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg | Angst | Smut | 1695 words | on ao3 | in Google Docs

Songfic Based On: Sweater Weather, The NBHF

Nico was in the cooldown room when it happened. Towel in hand, he was wiping the cold droplets trickling down his torso when Lewis burst open the door. (They didn't even use the cooldown room at the same time anymore.)

“Nico.”

The name left his teammate's mouth for the first time in weeks. Nico's throat didn't have to tighten like that— he wasn't going to speak anyway.

“I need to talk to you,” Lewis said, something desperate in his voice that Nico wasn't sure was real.

All I am is a man

Nico’s words were careful, deliberately stern. “What do you want, Lewis?”

I want the world in my hands

“To talk to you- about the race.” Abu Dhabi. 2016. “You won. Congratulations. I still won the championship.”

That seemed to snap something inside Lewis. In a swift motion, he lunged at Nico. But his childhood friend was much too familiar with his tactics, he knew about his speedy attacks and had swift reflexes to match. All those teenage years spent wrestling on hotel beds weren't for nothing.

“I don't fucking care!” Lewis shouted, his collar grasped in Nico's hands, Nico pushed all up against the wall. “I don't fucking care that I won the race!”

“You seemed to care a fuck lot about it on the track, mate,” Nico spat.

Lewis jerked his shoulders, hitting his head on the wall in the process. “Why can't you see, Nico?! Why can't you understand? I can't take this anymore.”

I hate the beach

But I stand in California with my toes in the sand

“Take what, Lewis? Because all I've been doing this year is take and take and fucking take. You haven't taken shit compared to what you've put me through.” His eyes were burning now. He needed Lewis out of here.

“I can't take this— you pretending I don't exist. I will take the accidents and the crashes and the goddamn fistfights, but I can't,” —his voice broke, eyes welling up, and Nico had the urge to wipe them before any tears fell— “I can't take this, Nico.”

Use the sleeves of my sweater

“You really think you're the only one suffering? How self centred, how typical of you, Lewis.”

Let's have an adventure

“...What?”

“You think this doesn't hurt me? this non stop fighting and competition, and never making up? Open your fucking eyes. I don't like this any more than you do.”

Lewis' hands dropped from his shoulders, chest heaving. The air between them was electric, too dangerous to breathe in.

Head in the clouds but my gravity centered

“Then why do you do it?” It was the smallest voice Nico had ever heard.

Because it's better than admitting the truth. Because it has less consequences than saying 'I love you.' “Because you started it.”

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

Dark eyes trailed from his wet hair to the damn skin of his torso, not in a lewd way, but like a man recalling all that he has to lose. When he looked back up, there was a hope in his eyes that Nico couldn't bear looking at. “And will you stop if I stop?”

You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

This was a terrible idea from the beginning. The Karting, the trip to Greece, the ride-or-die friendship, all of it— terrible.

Oh, she knows what I think about

“Stop fucking thinking so much, Nico, it can't get worse than this.”

It really couldn't.

And what I think about

The answer came in the form of a desperate hand grabbing the back of Lewis’ head to bring him closer.

It was a gunshot, the way their lips met each other's. It was the sweet shock of love after a lifetime of yearning. It was like their first sip of too-strong whiskey at fourteen, knowing they've crossed a line they can never go back to.

One love, two mouths

Lewis’ surprise melted into eagerness in a split second. Nico tilted his head and grabbed his bicep. Lewis had grabbed Nico's face with both hands like he was something dear and precious.

It really was a terrible idea, and nothing could ever fix it; but if they were going to burn they'd go down singing in the flames.

One love, one house

“Take off your shirt,” he grunted. Lewis obeyed.

Smooth brown skin burned under Nico's freezing palms. He grabbed a handful of the pecs, moaning into the kiss.

No shirt, no blouse

“Is this—” Lewis pushed him away. God give him dignity, Nico almost whined. “Is this a confession thing? Or a goodbye thing? Because I have no idea what I'll do with a goodbye fuck.”

Just us, you find out

Nico had no idea either. He didn't want to leave Lewis. But for now, the only thing on his mind was the throbbing heart under his hand. They were here. ‘Leaving’ seemed like something out of a hazy dream. “I don't know.”

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no

Lewis had this look on his face— like he wanted to run away but his feet wouldn't take him. Nico wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. There was nothing that could have ended up with them anywhere other than where they are. He didn't say anything.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Do you really? Or is this another game?” Yes, Nico wanted to yell. He knew what Hamilton was asking. 'Do you really love me?’ and he wanted to yell, Yes, yes, yes. I do love you. I do. I'm sorry. All he could do was nod.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Lewis put a hand on his cheek, kissing him again. Only this time it was so much more gentle, yet hurt so much more. Somewhere in his subconscious Lewis seemed to have realised that this was probably the first and last time they will ever do this; and he did it like he wanted to remember.

And if I may just take your breath away

There was so much Nico wanted to say, and he couldn't say any of it. He wanted to scream.

We will never be the same again, he wanted to say. I will never love another like you. A moan. You've destroyed all that I was. A sigh. Do not destroy what I am. Hands caressed his body, so soft it was painful. Build me a pyre, and I'll still whisper your name as I burn. A prayer. I love y—

“How do you want this?” Lewis whispered, hands working him out of his pants.

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Nico grabbed his shoulders, using the stability of Lewis’ hands on his thighs to wrap his legs around his waist. He relished in the way Lewis groaned, he would never hear it ever again.

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

Lewis was gentle, so gentle. They both loved like an ocean. With Nico it was a tsunami; desire coursing through his veins as he groped, wrecked, swallowed everything that came in his way. And with Lewis it was this; sweet, gentle and relentless like moonlit waves in the darkest hours of the night. What choice did either have but to drown?

The goosebumps start to raise

“More,” he whimpered, arching his back against the wall. The soft gaze with which Lewis was watching him was more violent than any fistfight they've ever had.

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

It hurt— even with how tender Lewis was being. Maybe more so because of that. He harshened the pace at Nico's request, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat in sync, thudding against the ribcages pressed together.

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Strangling begins with holding. Cannibalism begins with a kiss. They both bring grief and hurt and madness; what is love if not just tender violence?

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour

He reached the peak of his pleasure first, spilling onto their abdomens. Lewis followed right after.

Coming down

One love, two mouths

They stayed like that for a while; chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, hearts broken like the promises they made at fourteen.

One love, one house

No shirt, no blouse

“Don't leave me, Nico.”

Just us, you find out

Why do you speak to me and why do I try to understand? he thought. We no longer speak the same language.

Not a word was uttered.

Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no

“We can fix this.” That damned hope.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

“Put me down,” was what Nico chose to say. Lewis did, searching his face desperately for an answer.

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

Nico picked his pants off the floor, pulling them on without another word. Lewis spared them both the pain and stayed silent as well.

'Cause it's too cold for you here

He was wiping his torso with a spare towel when Lewis finally spoke.

“You promised, Nico.”

Nico looked at him, no longer caring about the wet streaks on his cheeks. “We made a lot of stupid promises.”

And now, so let me hold

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“You said we'd race together. Forever. You said you wouldn't race without me. Then why should I?”

Wasn't forever such a sweet lie? It wasn't nearly as long as people thought it was.

Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

“I'm leaving racing for good, Lewis.”

And it's too cold, it's too cold

Lewis was silent for what seemed like hours. “I love you.”

With a single whispered phrase, Nico shut the door behind him. “It'll pass.”

The holes of my sweater…

[forever1kay]

WASH DAY !!

Summary: Miles hasn’t had time to care for himself lately, so you take the time to do that for him.

Pairing: Miles Morales x Fem!Black!Reader (Best Friends to lovers trope)

Notes: I did age up Miles slightly in this fic, he’s 17. Please be prepared for a lousy description of facial and hair care, I’m not a professional and I only know what works for me. ALSO, there’s a picture at the very end and it’s not a faceless pic bc I couldn’t find one😔

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, breaking and entering, Miles was very crusty for a lot of this fic, slander of Jehovah’s Witnesses, profanity of course, clueless Miles, mentions of death, a few nsfw lines… let me know if I forgot anything

You had just finished detangling your hair and were three seconds away from stepping into the shower when you heard a knock at the front door. You debated answering but ultimately decided against it when you realized it was probably the Jehovah’s Witnesses for the third time today.

Stepping into the shower, you hear a thud against the floor in the other room and all you can do is pause and hope you'll be okay. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened and all you could do was scream and grab the shower curtain for cover.

"Oh Lord!" You scream as your legs give out and force you to sit on the shower floor. "Lord, help me! I'm being attacked!”

“It's just me, Y/n/n!" Miles shouted while frantically waving his hands. “To think you’d recognize your best friend when you see him.”

You stop thrashing and peak your head out from behind the shower curtain, staring up at Miles. “Hi there!”

"Hey," He says, stooping to your level on the other side of the tub. “That was an interesting show you just put on.”

"I was going through something.” You replied, clearing your throat, “When exactly did you get back to this dimension? You smell like booty juice.”

Miles stands up and shyly scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that," he starts. "I just got back and I haven't had time to shower or anything."

“Seriously? You left a week ago!" You cried out while standing up but keeping your body hidden behind the curtain. "Why didn't you go back home and take a shower?"

“Forgot my key at my friend Hobie's.”

“Of course.” Grabbing your shampoo, you sighed and started to shampoo your hair. “I’ll tell you what…”

Miles nods, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll wash your hair after I wash mine. That sound good?”

Miles hums in approval.

“Good! Go shower in my sister’s bathroom.”

"I can't just come in there with you?" He asks.

“Miles, be for real.”

"Okay, okay!" He chuckles and raises his arms in surrender. “Do I still have clothes here?"

“Of course! With how often you’re here, it’d be weird if you didn’t.”

Miles hums. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’ll leave your clothes outside of the door when I’m done. If you finish before me, just sit tight. It won’t kill you.”

He smiles and gives you a sincere thank you before leaving to take a shower of his own. You unexpectedly finished before him, so you made the decision to leave clean clothes outside the bathroom door for when he’s done.

You did your after-wash routine and wrapped your hair while you waited.

About 20 minutes later, he came back from the restroom wearing the clean clothes you had left for him and threw himself onto your bedroom floor.

“You ran all my momma hot water, Miles?” You asked him.

“Nah, I left some.”

You chuckled and got up, walking towards your room door. “Okay, come on.”

“Where are we going?” He asked, following closely behind you.

“To wash your hair.” You said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow. "How does that make sense when I just got out of the shower?"

Rolling your eyes, you grab a seat from the kitchen table. "You know how to stick your head in the sink."

"My neck gets hurt that way." Miles pouts and takes the chair from you, setting it in front of the sink.

“Everyone has that problem.” You respond, gently pushing him into the chair as you experiment with the water temperature then rush to the bathroom to get the shampoo, conditioner, and treatment.

When you come back, Miles is staring blankly at you.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I don't want my hair to be washed in the sink."

“It's either this or you wash your own hair.” You tell him. He shakes his head. “You sure? If you want your hair to be crusty, it’s up to you.”

Miles shakes his head again and takes his shirt off before leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes, wordlessly agreeing to get his hair washed in the sink.

“Alright!” You smile, starting to wash his hair.

Your arms eventually became worn out, and you briefly complained about it before choosing to sit on him.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"This lessens the stress on my arms."

“Oh.” He nods. "Yes, right. Okay, great. Cool.”

He suddenly started to draw shapes in your thighs with his eyes closed. You did your best to stay calm.

"How was your week?" He asked, his words starting to slur from fatigue.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He challenged. "Tell me more about it."

Miles had stopped running his hands along your legs, but you were too busy telling him about your week-long college tour at UCF to notice.

You saw he had fallen asleep and was somewhat drooling when you reached up to rinse his hair. Before the moment was over, you immediately dried your hands and took a picture of him. After that, you washed his hair once more, rinsed it, and then used your preferred conditioner.

As soon as you were done, you cleaned your hands and tried to wake up Miles.

"Pssst,” You whispered, "I'm finished.”

"Five more minutes.” He said with his eyes still closed, gently pushing your face away.

“No, Miles.” You responded, "Come on.”

After hearing him snore in response, you reached for the sink faucet and extended it in his direction.

His eyes shot open before you could turn on the water, and he grabbed your wrist. “Alright! I’m up, I’m up.”

You pat his face and rise, placing the faucet in its proper place. “Good! Now stand up.”

“Where are we going?”

You place an oversized cotton towel on his head, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you. “To the sofa so I can do your hair.”

“Do what to it exactly?” Miles asks, following behind you with your hand still in his.

You shrug as you sit on the sofa and set a pillow on the floor for Miles to sit on. “No idea. You have something in mind?”

Miles squishes into a comfy position between your legs. "Actually, yeah."

And after 45 minutes of Miles being tender-headed from his first set of braids, you finished.

"Calm down, you ass." You scolded. "We're finished. Go look at it.”

Miles went to look at his hair in the bathroom before excitedly running back to you and lifting you up.

"I love it!" He shouted, spinning y’all around. “How did you learn to braid like this? Thank you!”

When he became too dizzy and lost his balance, you squealed while wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back almost hit the floor, but Miles saved you by flipping over last minute.

"My bad…" He said apologetically.

After a few hours, your family came home and found you and miles sleeping on the couch. They asked you both to get up and move so that you wouldn't take up space.

You took this moment to your parents if he could stay the night and they pointed at the air mattress that you’d have to inflate for him.

About time the air mattress was inflated and the both of you laid down in your respective beds, neither of you were tired anymore.

“Miles.” You whispered.

“Y/n?” He replied.

"Wanna do a thing?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

He sat up. “What thing?”

“Let me give you a facial.” You spoke, rolling over to face his bed.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't the boy give the girl-"

You threw a pillow at him. "Nigga, not that kind of facial!"

He caught the pillow and threw it back, hitting your shiny ass forehead with it. “Then what are you talking about?”

You got up and walked toward him, reaching your hands out for his. “Cmonnnn, just trust me.”

Miles sighed and rolled his eyes, taking your hand. “Fine.”

He is then dragged into the bathroom where you force him to wash his face while you get all the supplies. Once he has finished cleaning his face, you lead him back into your room and give him a durag.

Miles sits on your bed, puts on the durag, and sends a worried glance your way.

“Don’t worry, I got this!” You reassure him, sensing his apprehension. “Now lay down.”

“Okay, okay.”

You straddle Miles when he lies down on your bed, pausing for a second before you do anything else.

“I would just like to let you know that i am not a professional and I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.”

Miles smiles up at you. “It’s fine.”

You return his smile before picking up an under-eye mask for eye bags.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“An eye mask.” You reply.

“Where does it go?” He asks dumbly.

“Right under your eyes.” You chuckle. “Close them.”

As instructed, Miles closes his eyes. You place the eye mask under his eyes and then take the jade roller and massage the eye masks against his face.

After some time had passed, you threw the eye mask in the garbage next to your bed.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Miles started to sit up. “We’re done? Already?”

“No, Miles.”

He laid back down.

“You can keep your eyes open for this one.” You told him, grabbing the lip scrub.

“What’s that one?”

“Lip scrub.” You tell him.

You take a scrub brush and generously cover it with lip scrub before placing it on Miles' lips and gently massaging it in. He stared up at the concentrated expression on your face.

About thirty seconds later, you went to get a damp towel to remove the lip scrub, but Miles beat you to it.

“This tastes good.”

“Miles no! Don’t eat it, the packaging says you could die!”

Miles gasps and shoots up, snatching the lip scrub container and knocking you to the floor in the process.

“Show me where it says that!”

“It doesn’t, I was just kidding.” You huff. “But now I should kill you myself for almost killing me.”

He shrugs. “It’s not my fault you told me I was going to have a premature teenage death.”

You roll your eyes and grab the warm rag, climbing back onto your bed. “Anyways, you can lay your head in my lap and I’ll finish this.”

Miles quickly lays down on your lap and looks up at you.

His lips are effectively damp after you wipe away the last of the lip scrub for you to be able to apply the desired lip serum. You apply a small amount, then rub it in. With a lovesick smile on his face, Miles looks up at you.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What?!” He counters. “I-I don’t know.”

You sigh and shake your head, applying a lip mask, then a jelly face mask, then facial serum, and lastly moisturizer on his skin.

By that point, Miles' eyes were closed, and you were unsure of whether he was asleep or not.

“Miles?” You speak softly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m all done, love.”

“Can we do another one?”

“No, sir. We cannot.”

“But I feel so relaxed.”

“We can go to sleep if you want?”

“No, let’s watch a movie.”

“Yes! I’ll go grab snacks.”

Ignoring the puzzled stares from your family, you run to the pantry to grab some snacks before returning to Miles, who had already decided on the movie.

“What did you pick?” You ask, setting the snacks down carefully onto the bed.

“Howl’s Moving Castle.” He replies, pulling out his phone and sitting at the foot of the bed. “Say cheese!”

While chuckling a little at Miles, you smile towards the camera while holding the straw's tip in your mouth.

“What are you laughing at, huh?”

“You’re adorable, Miles.”

“Thanks, I try.”

As the movie begins, you roll your eyes and set the drink down.

About halfway through the movie, Miles moves closer to you and lies in your lap, staring up at you.

You frown down at him. “You okay, Miles?”

“Yeah.” He replies, smiling a little before starting to watch the movie again.

About five minutes later, he breaks his silence by bringing up the facial you gave him earlier.

“You know, you should really try some of the lip scrub.”

“I will not eat the lip scrub that I paid money for.” You tell him, “So unless you have another way, then I won’t-“

Miles reaches out and pulls your face to his in the classic Spider-Man kiss, holding you there as long as you let him.

Six seconds later, you pull away from Miles and give him a confused look.

“I’m totally not complaining, but what was that for?”

Miles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back up at you. “I like you a lot, Y/n…”

“So your mom wasn’t trying to trick me?”

“SHE TOLD YOU I LIKE YOU?!”

“Yeah?”

“Ignore her from now on.”

“I did, that’s why we’re having this moment so late.”

“Does that mean you like me too?”

“Mhm.”

Miles smiles awkwardly. “Cool.”

You give him a pat on the cheek and resume watching the film.

He breaks the silence again a little while later.

“…That lip scrub tasted good, didn’t it?”

You giggle and peck his lips again. Before the movie was over, you both had fallen asleep.

BONUS:

The following morning when you woke up before Miles, you checked your Instagram and found a surprise waiting for you.

© forever1kay 2023 - please don’t translate, convert, copy, paraphrase, repost, or alter any of my works without my permission.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (9)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Authors' Note: Implied child kidnapping ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 9: Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Another night, another part of the mystery to solve. But first, you had agreed to go into work. Nothing was going to stop you, not even the ‘Prince’s orders’. Something about having a nightly routine kept you sane and grounded you in reality. Not that what you were experiencing wasn’t real, but you didn’t want to lose touch with the living. You didn’t want to become like… Leon?

You heaved a disheartened sigh thinking about it. You’d been giving the man the silent treatment ever since returning from the Spencer Mansion, and you didn’t like it one bit. Hurting people wasn’t something you enjoyed — be it ignoring them out of spite or acting in a way that would lead to someone’s unfair demise. It didn’t help that you were constantly being reminded of how powerless and insignificant you were. Was this the best you could do when taking a stand? Or was there something more?

Working felt like walking. You went through the motions: socializing with your colleagues, pandering to customers, planning out the next month’s events program, making a couple of calls along the way, and your personal favorite — sorting out the cafe’s finances. Even the Redfields showed up, informing you and by extension, Leon, that they were still on the suitor’s case and would have something juicy for you soon.

“Do you ever miss the sun?” you wondered out loud. 

It had barely been a week since you turned, but you were already bemoaning the fact that you wouldn’t be able to live to see it. Although the nights were longer now that the year had entered into its colder period, you had thought ahead, speculating how it would be like when summer returned again. That was depressing.

“Always,” Claire responded, patting your shoulder empathetically.

“Best not to think about it,” Chris chimed in, taking a swig from his beer bottle. “You’ll get used to it at some point, and besides, there’s always YouTube.”

“Very helpful, Chris,” his sister huffed in disdain, forcefully backhanding her brother so that he choked on a bit of his beer.

“What the fuck, sis?” he groaned, wiping the beer stains off his clothes with his bare hands in annoyance. “On my nice shirt as well.”

For some reason the constant bickering between the siblings caused you to double over in laughter and they looked at you in amusement. After you recovered from your giggling fit, you pointed to Chris' bottle, asking, “So you can do that thing of actually enjoying what you eat and drink?”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe you can teach me?” you tested the waters. “Leon was supposed to, but—” You stopped yourself in your tracks, realizing that you’d have to share a lot more than you would be comfortable with.

Unfortunately, Claire was perceptive enough. “Trouble in Paradise?” she suggested, only to continue on her train of thought when you didn’t answer, “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. He may be a prick who needs a nudge in the right direction, but he’ll come around.”

She pressed her arm against the wall and leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “And I hate to say this, but he’s actually a good guy.”

The expression on your face must’ve given away how you felt when Claire had uttered those last words. She quickly peppered it with, “He must’ve screwed up pretty bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say it’s one screw up after the other,” you finally replied.

Chris gave a low chuckle, “Sounds like him alright.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame the guy for trying though.”

“Alright, I’ll let you in on something,” Claire began, only to be interrupted by her brother.

“Oh man, not again! Can’t ever keep your goddamn mouth shut, can you?” he scolded.

“Shut up, Chris! She’s cool with us, you know that,” she retorted and he conceded, though you could still hear him grumbling in the background.

Turning towards you triumphantly, she continued, “I’ll keep it short. He saved my brother's skin; I owed him a life boon, and Chris probably did too, but he turned it down in the end.”

“Yeah, said something about not wanting to take advantage,” Chris piped up, shaking his head in disbelief. “To this night, it still floors me.”

What they had said gave you some pause. It seemed as though Leon had a bunch of demons to confront, and there was always an internal battle waging. You just hadn’t been able to break through. But did you want to in the end? Or would you just leave him to rot in his own misdoings? You weren’t anyone’s savior and you didn’t want to be. You simply wanted to do what felt right to you.

“Guess there’s a lot more to him that I don’t know about,” you mused.

Chris’ wide palm met your back with a loud thump that reverberated across your chest. “Hey, chin up, kid. It’ll take a while, but you’ll get there. Us Brujahs don’t give up without a fight.” His brown eyes lit up and crinkled, fine lines of crow’s feet fanning out from the corners. “And no matter what anyone says, I still think you’re one at heart.”

“Brujah, huh? I like the sound of that.” A crooked smile played across your lips as you laid your cards out on the table. “I’ve heard you’re fierce fighters. Mind showing me a few tricks? Just so I know how to fend for myself.”

Chris stood taller, eyeing you with curiosity as a sense of pride visibly swelled in his chest.

“I could throw in a supply of beers on the house to sweeten the deal,” you added, pointing at the empty bottle he was clutching at his side.

He barked out a laugh before responding, “Well, now that you put it that way, you’ve got my hands tied.” Placing his bottle down on a table beside him, he agreed, “Sure, I’ll give you some tips, but a word of warning: I don’t go easy.”

The rest of your shift went by without event, until Leon dropped by to pick you up for the next meeting planned that night. Since neither of you had gotten any real leads on the case yet, he thought it best to visit the Bakers first before heading back to NEST, where the Primogens' offices were and where Jill would be waiting impatiently for answers. 

In the jeep, the atmosphere was thick with tension, though along the way, he tried to cut through it with some advice. “I know you’re still upset and don’t want to talk, but I need to prepare you for this.” 

He tapped on the steering wheel nervously. “As Malkavians, the Bakers all suffer from some form of affliction following their Embrace. In this case, they believe a little girl called Eveline is part of the family, except no one else can see her.”

“You mean she’s invisible?”

The car swerved off-center as Leon glanced over at you, startled by your response. It was the first time you had spoken to him in a while. You clung onto the grab handle and yelled, “Keep your fucking eyes on the road!”

“Shit, um, sorry!” He focused his attention back to his driving, quickly stabilizing the vehicle before he spoke up again. “And, uh, no. I mean, we don’t think she actually exists.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay, and is that going to be a problem?”

“Not if you pretend she does,” he stated plainly. “Otherwise, they’ll get really provoked if you don’t interact with Eveline.”

“Right, thanks for the heads up.” You nodded curtly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah, well, uh, just be—”

“Careful. Got it,” you finished the sentence for him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he emphasized. “These folks have always been rather isolated from the Camarilla. Last I heard, they don’t take kindly to strangers sticking their noses where they don’t belong. So, if all hell breaks loose in there, I want you to book it and run, alright?”

You frowned, shifting your gaze in his direction. If his intention was to allay your fears, he had done nothing but heighten them. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He flashed you a reassuring smile, but you could make out the hint of unease in the curl of his lips. “Take the car keys when we reach the place, so you have your escape route if needed.”

You let his words linger in the air as you kept quiet throughout the rest of the ride.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Reaching the outskirts of Raccoon City, you were traveling along Stone-Ville Road, where there was nothing but open land. The trees had been cleared from the forest, and multiple estuaries flowed from the Raccoon Dam. The area was sparsely populated, with only a smattering of houses spread out from each other in the distance. At some point, Leon made a left turn into a side road, heading towards a decrepit-looking estate that was slightly off the beaten track. It appeared to bear some similarities to the Spencer Mansion back in Arklay Forest, causing a spine-tingling shiver to sweep through your body.

“Designed by the same architect from the Trevor & Chamberlain fame,” Leon pointed out, seemingly able to read your mind.

“That guy from New York?” You remembered reading about him in magazine articles and the mystery of his disappearance as people mourned the loss of a genius.

“Yeah, so expect surrealist stuff, including puzzles and secret passageways,” he cautioned.

You balked at the thought of having to enter yet another labyrinth like the one at the Tremere Chantry.

“It’s just for a friendly chat,” he asserted, his calming blue gaze meeting yours. “I doubt there’s any need for us to explore the house, unless they make things difficult.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you muttered, tucking the car keys into your pocket as you stepped in front of a formidable, rusty gate.

It was unlocked, and as Leon pushed it open, it screeched on its hinges like a dead woman's wail, beckoning you towards the crumbling building before you, which was long past its heyday. The refurbished plantation house, where you assumed the Baker family lived, was part of a larger ranch estate, and it looked like something straight out of a slasher flick.

Leon pressed the doorbell, waiting to see if there was any sign of life. A light switched on, its mellow rays filtered through the window shades, and you heard hurried footsteps on the wooden floorboards until the door swung open. An older lady with her dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail peered at both of you in confusion. She wore a tattered, sweat-stained button-up blouse and a brown skirt. Her coarse and wrinkled skin still carried an unfaded tan, suggesting a life of manual labor, where she had tended to the animals and fields under the sweltering sun.

“Can I help you, miss, mister?” she asked in a heavy Southern drawl. “We weren’t expecting anyone at this time.”

“Ma’am,” he dipped his head politely in acknowledgement. “Sorry for intruding on you like this, but there wasn’t any other way to contact you.”

“Well, we don’t want no trouble, young man. Just mindin’ our own business, that’s all.” Shifting nervously from foot to foot, she fiddled with the hem of her cotton blouse, glancing over her shoulder every now and then at a blank space behind her.

Your attention was drawn to the area she kept looking at, and as you concentrated on it, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You had the strangest sense that someone was there, but you couldn’t make out any shape or figure, just an energy. An icy chill gripped your head, as if cold hands were feeling along the grooves of your brain. You shuddered, realizing that whoever it was knew that you were aware of its presence.

“We don’t want any trouble either,” Leon assured, raising his palms slightly to indicate a truce. “We just have some questions we could use your help on, regarding an attack a couple of nights ago.”

The woman still clutched onto the door apprehensively. “Why? Who sent you?”

“The Prince put us on the investigation,” he disclosed warily.

At that moment, a shadowy figure materialized behind the woman, taking a few seconds before you could make out his features in the dim light. He was an older man, around the same age as her, balding and wearing spectacles. Likewise, his yellow striped shirt and beige pants were worn and filthy, as though he hadn’t changed out of it for decades.

“Prince?” he questioned defensively, placing his hand on the small of the woman’s back. “What does the Prince want? We didn’t do nothing wrong, son.”

“No, you didn’t,” Leon agreed, quickly following up with an explanation to assuage the man. “We have the assailants in custody, but it appears they’ve been brainwashed and manipulated through Dementation — a skill that you’re well-versed in.”

The man eyed him like a hawk as Leon continued, treading on thin ice. “We thought we could use your expertise, and if you might’ve picked up on anything out of the ordinary in the vicinity.”

There was a pregnant pause before the man relented, “Fine, you got five minutes to ask us anything you wanna know, son.” Pushing the door wide open, he gestured for you to enter. “Come on in.”

As you stepped into the gloomy premises, he pointed at you, flashing a warning glance in your direction. “And no more snoopin’ around, young lady.”

Oh, right. You must’ve unwittingly activated one of your powers earlier to sense his presence, when he had relied on his Obfuscate Discipline to remain hidden. “Sorry, my bad,” you mumbled. “It was an accident.”

He nodded, turning around to make his way into the living room where a dining table was situated. “You girls can come out now,” he hollered. 

You saw a younger woman with jagged, short hair emerge in a similar fashion to how the man did before, sitting at one of the chairs at the table. Despite that, you greeted two people as Leon had instructed, and he followed suit. A round of introductions followed, where you learnt that the older couple were Jack and Marguerite and their two daughters, Zoe and Eveline, with the latter being the youngest at ten years old.

Marguerite disappeared into the kitchen for a bit, only to return with a tray of crockery. She handed out cups to everyone and poured a red, viscous liquid from a teapot. Jack grumbled in the corner that it was meant to be a short meeting, but at the same time, couldn’t help but appreciate his wife’s hospitality. Bringing the cup to your nose, the liquid smelled musky, like earth, and you wondered where it came from.

“It’s the best I can offer at such last minute notice,” she apologized, wiping her hands on her blouse as she sat herself down. Twisting her head in the direction of the empty seat next to Zoe, she cooed, “But Evie likes it, don’t ya, sweetheart? That’s it, drink up now. Little piggy’s blood is good for you.”

You watched as the cup on the table remained motionless, while Marguerite bombarded the invisible entity with sweet words of encouragement. Trying to ease the awkwardness in such a situation, you took a mouthful of the liquid from your cup. It was the first time you tasted animal blood and as much as you hated to admit it, it was incredibly bland compared to human blood. Like a simple gruel versus a gourmet meal. Then again, neither could bagged blood beat the real thing, though you tried not to dwell on it. You smiled politely over at Zoe, who threw you a sympathetic look.

“You’re new, huh?” she asked shyly, cocking her head as she gazed at you.

“Mm hm, about a week.” You took another sip and pursed your lips, swallowing the liquid like a chore that had to be done.

“Ooh, a baby!” Marguerite interjected, suddenly interested in the conversation between you and Zoe. You imagined she was the social butterfly of the group. “Maybe Evie can show you a few tricks.”

At this, Leon rested his hand over your arm protectively, forcing a strained smile. “Perhaps another time? We really should get down to business.”

“Ah, city boys and their ‘business’,” Jack remarked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Well, what can we do for ya?”

You heard Leon speak, but his voice seemed to drone on with the others, and out of nowhere you started to enter a tunnel vision. In your line of sight, you spotted a framed photo of the Baker family, though something was amiss. There was a young man in the picture you hadn’t met yet. He was thin and lanky, and had a hoodie on that obscured part of his face. Leaning back on the couch, he stared directly back at you with a bored look in his hollowed eyes.

It took you a while, but you managed to snap out of it, uttering the first thought that came to your mind, “Is that your son, mister?”

All at once, the mood in the room shifted, taking a dramatic turn for the worse. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on you as Jack ordered ominously, “Get the hell out.”

You opened your mouth in protest, but Leon beat you to it, rising up from his seat as he contended, “Look, she didn’t mean anything by it. We’re sorry, alright? Could we just—”

“Shut your goddamn mouth, boy!” Jack bellowed, his command resonating across the room.

Leon’s body grew rigid and he remained mute. Dread seeped into your bones as you observed the previous scene of peace and tranquility descend into an utter nightmare.

“Mama, Evie’s getting upset,” Zoe announced in a tiny voice.

“Argh! See what you’ve done now?” Marguerite shrieked as she stomped around the room in a temper tantrum. “This is your fault!” she accused, glaring at you and Leon.

“You barge into our house and threaten my family? This won’t do!” Jack shook his head menacingly as his eyes glowered. “I’m just gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

His eyes changed into an otherworldly shade and Marguerite joined him, speaking in tongues. They gazed at Leon as if engaged in a séance. However, Zoe remained separate from their antics, looking on in fright. You stood rooted to where you were, bracing for the worst, but nothing happened. It was only when you saw Leon sink to the ground on his knees, his face pale as a sheet, that you realized he was bearing the brunt of your transgression.

He was taken back to years ago, at the height of his blood bond, where he would do anything to win Ada’s affection. Her interest in him had begun to wane and he was sure she was seeing another lover. But this time, he would bring her the vessel that would change her mind about him and guarantee her everlasting love.

There he was, at that godforsaken group home, the one linked to the Catholic church he had frequented when he was still alive, and where he would sell his damned soul for a second time to the Devil. All it took was a flash of his police credentials and a charm or two from his arsenal of skills he had honed to entrance the nuns keeping watch over the children.

“Sherry, are you ready to go?” He extended a hand towards her. 

This wasn’t his first rodeo. Ada and him had been noticing the little girl for a while, testing to see if she would be a worthy vessel for the Prince himself. After all, Ventrues were extremely fussy drinkers and Wesker expected a Michelin star meal every single time. The only thing stopping him from delivering the girl over was a vague sense of morality he still had within him. But he was desperate enough now to dash it to the ground for a chance at his sire’s approval again.

The girl had dressed into her school uniform, a hairband holding her blond tresses out of her face as she peered up excitedly at him. “Yes, let’s go!”

She would have done anything to get away from the home where she never slept well and felt alone despite being in a room full of kids around her age. Where Leon was taking her sounded like a glorious fairytale. A palace with a prince, she imagined, a place where she would be treated to all the luxuries her current life could never afford her.

“Oh god, no!” he cried out, doubling over on the grimy floor of the Baker House. 

Sherry was haunting him again. Everywhere he looked, he saw multiple copies of her like a cracked mirror reflecting her ghost on its uneven surface. He heard layer upon layer of her laughter, jumbled and out of sync, mocking and taunting him. Paranoia sank in and he curled himself into a fetal position, pleading for no one in particular to forgive him.

“Sherry, please, we have to go!” he urged. 

This was years later, when he had some sense knocked into him from the time he hung out with the Anarchs. He wanted to right his wrongs, and free the girl who was never meant to be trapped in the underworld in the first place.

But she had changed. She was older and wiser, and knew exactly what she wanted — it was definitely not to leave.

Yanking her hand back, she kicked her feet, stamping on the ground as she yelled, “No! I want to stay!”

He was shocked by her absolute conviction in remaining within the prison where she was held, like a pretty songbird for the rest of the Kindred to gawk at. “But…”

“You can’t make me!” she screamed, red in the face.

Rendered speechless, he didn’t know what else to do than stare at the crying child before him with his jaw hanging open. He thought he was saving her, like a knight in shining armor, but she didn’t need any saving. She was perfectly happy where she was.

“One day, I’ll get you out of there. I promise,” he babbled on repeatedly, reduced to nothing but a trembling mess before the Malkavians.

During the entire period when Leon appeared to be suffering from a mental breakdown, you were torn about what to do. He had told you to bolt the minute something like this took place, but you couldn’t leave him to fend for himself in this state. You didn’t understand what he was blabbering on about. Was Sherry his sister? Where was she? What happened to her?

A million thoughts raced through your mind, but you shut them down. You needed to pry Leon away from the family’s cold clutches and keep him safe. Mustering your courage, you approached the one who seemed to be the most reasonable of the lot. She still sat in her chair, gazing upon the scene with a vacant yet troubled expression.

“Zoe?” you called out softly, hoping it wouldn’t escalate the situation. “Please, we don’t mean any harm.”

Her eyes darted towards you.

“I know you’re just trying to protect your family,” you deduced, especially from the way they had been on edge the moment you stepped onto their property and inadvertently brought up one of their own.

“We need the information, but I swear to you we will keep whoever it is you’re trying to protect safe,” you promised.

Her breath hitched, and she looked at you with glassy eyes. In the background, you could hear Leon’s gut-wrenching whines of pain.

“Zoe, please!” you begged, your brows furrowing and tears on the verge of spilling from your eyes. You couldn’t bear to witness him in such agony any longer. It felt like your heart was shattering into pieces, though you couldn’t explain why.

“Eveline, stop,” her calm voice sliced through the air and the buzzing energy died down. 

Her parents came out of their hypnotic state and Leon stopped shaking uncontrollably, though he backed himself into a corner in fear. You rushed to his side, holding him in your arms as you checked his eyes to see if he had fully returned to the present.

“You stayed…” he whispered, reaching out to touch your face, as though he was trying to ascertain if you were real.

In an instant, you pulled him into an embrace, rocking him gently as you stroked his hair. “You’re okay, Leon. You’re safe.”

After a while, he relaxed into your arms and his breathing returned to its normal tempo. The Bakers exchanged worried looks but said nothing as they gave him time to recover. Finally, Jack broke the silence. “I-I’m sorry about what happened there, son. Just been a lot going on these days.”

You turned around, deciding to take the reins as you spoke for the two of you, “I understand, and as I promised your daughter, we’ll make sure that, um—”

“Lucas,” Marguerite offered.

“—Lucas won’t get hurt.”

Jack nodded, taking off his glasses as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “You see, how we work is through what others call premonitions or clairvoyance, and all that mumbo-jumbo.” 

Clearing his throat, he continued, “Well, lately we’ve been sensing a bunch of Sabbat activity in the city. Their symbols are everywhere, like little red hotspots across the center. They’re planning more of these attacks for sure, just heading down along the river.”

“Circular River?” you probed.

“Uh huh, the one closest to town,” he concurred. “And, uh, I’m guessing you were also here about the Cobweb?”

“Yeah.”

He swallowed anxiously as Marguerite took over. “It don’t always speak to us, and sometimes it’s hard to make out what it says. But we heard somethin’ the other night.”

She paused, adjusting her hair restlessly before she divulged, “It was Lucas’ voice, carried like a wave by a thousand voices, saying his name is nobody. That stood out, but we don’t know why.”

Nobody said they were nobody…

You caught a flicker of recognition in Leon’s eyes as you recalled what the man had said during Jill’s interrogation. Was Lucas responsible for all of this?

“Where’s Lucas now?” Leon asked, his voice still a little unsteady.

“He don’t want to be found.” Jack shrugged dejectedly. “My boy’s always been a real firecracker. Left home one day and never came back. We think he’s with them — the Sabbat.”

“But he’s a good boy,” his wife insisted. “Please don’t hurt him.”

“We just want him to come home,” Zoe added. “Evie wants her big brother back.”

The joy and curse of familial bonds. You could get behind that.

“We won’t breathe a word about Lucas,” you pledged, overriding your sire’s authority as you answered on behalf of him as well. “Right, Leon?”

You could see the discomfort in his expression, though he grunted an affirmative reply.

As Jack showed you out of the house, you thanked him and his family for their assistance, though a final question came to your mind. “Can Dementation have long-lasting effects?”

“With the right choice of words, it can.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

To play it safe, you took over the driving on the way back as you and Leon discussed the information you had gleaned from the Bakers.

“You think Lucas is the one?” you asked as you stopped at a red light.

“No, I don’t think he worked alone,” he opined. “It took two of the Bakers to bring me to my knees.”

There was a momentary pause as he clenched his fist at the memory, exhaling another deep breath of air. “I know we are talking about manipulating a group of lesser vampires, but unless he’s a prodigy we’ve never discovered, there were most likely others involved at the same time.”

“Makes sense,” you agreed, easing off on the brake pedal to switch over to the accelerator as the lights went green again.

“You still want to protect the guy, even after what he did?”

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, causing your knuckles to turn white. A promise was a promise, and there was more than enough bloodshed these nights.

“Yes,” you forced the answer out through gritted teeth. “Got a problem with that?”

“I admire you,” he murmured, dispelling your misgivings. “Your compassion.”

You felt your anger dissolve as you followed up with a suggestion. “It’s never too late, you know?”

He gave you a weak smile but remained silent for the ride home.

Back at his apartment, you noticed that he still seemed shaken by the night's events as he kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch, gazing blankly into space. Was he going to doze off in that position? You had already changed into a loose muslin nightdress and gone through the usual bedtime preparations.

Strolling over, you sat down beside him, trying to strike up a conversation. “They spooked you real bad, huh?”

He didn’t laugh at your joke, though he acknowledged it. “You can say that again.”

This wasn’t like him at all. You grabbed his shoulder in concern. “Hey, you don't seem okay.”

“I’ll be fine,” he sighed, looking away from you to his lap. “And… thank you for back there.”

“I would never abandon you like that,” you stressed, even if you hadn’t forgiven him for turning you… yet. 

He glanced at you with his watery blue eyes in appreciation, but you could tell that his mind was in a distant place elsewhere. Even though he tried to hide it, you saw his hands quivering, and you hoped that what the Bakers had done wasn’t permanent. You knew he was trying to put on a brave front, but a part of you felt uneasy about leaving him on his own.

“Um, why don’t you sleep next to me today?” you offered hesitantly.

He peered at you quizzically. “You sure?”

“Yeah, just get dressed, alright?” You made your way up the stairs and waited for him by the bed before he could argue any further.

He joined you later, clad in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, keeping a respectable distance as he lay beside you. There was a nervous energy to him.

You drew nearer, caressing his arm tenderly. “We don’t have to talk about whatever you saw in there,” you affirmed. “I’m here if you need me.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear as a stray tear fell onto his face. Wrapping your arms around him, you closed the gap, breathing in his scent as you felt his hands along your waist. It seemed as if an eternity had passed before you released each other. His nose nudged against yours as his warm breath grazed your cheek. When his gaze lowered to your lips, you didn’t have to think or doubt what would come next. 

Leaning in, he placed his soft lips over your own, kissing you intimately as he savored your taste in his mouth. Instinctively, you kissed back, running your fingers through his messy locks as your tongue licked across the seam of his lips. A low moan escaped his throat as he pressed up against you, claiming your lips again and again. It was the last thing you remembered as daysleep enveloped you like a cocoon, lulling you into a temporary hibernation.

[matan4il]

Update post:

Today is the 180th day of the war. Almost 6 months since the Hamas massacre started this war. And still, when I came across a video clip of TV announcers broadcasting on Oct 7, 2023 and I heard the words, "hundreds of Israelis have been killed" (even as I know that the number was actually greater than that, something that took time to confirm back in October), it still felt like it just happened, like it's still hard to believe it's real, and not a nightmare that we might wake up from any moment now.

A combined terrorist attack (vehicular and then stabbing) took place over night. A 26 years old Arab man drove his car into 4 policemen, injuring them, one initially was in a serious condition. The terrorist then drove on, stopped by another group of police personnel, where he got out of the car and tried stabbing them. He was neutralized.

Obviously, everyone in Israel has heard about the aid workers killed in Gaza. IDK yet how it happened, what the details are, we're all waiting to hear, just like other fair-minded people are (I'm not talking about the anti-Israel crowd, who have made up their minds before the incident even happened, they come pre-programmed with the belief that everything wrong is both Israel's fault and intentional). For now, it looks like a huge, tragic mistake, based on misidentification in the middle of the night (such mistakes sadly happen. The accidental death of 3 Israeli hostages in broad daylight was an example that it does, and other "friendly fire" incidents that have happened to Israeli soldiers are another. That's war, there's tragically no army with zero mistakes on its record). I am SO sorry for the innocent people killed, and their loved ones. I feel for them, for their pain and loss.

That said, how do I know it wasn't intentional? For one thing, because World Central Kitchen is actually one of the few humanitarian aid organizations that tried to help both Palestinians and Israelis. Which is one reason Israel very much wanted WCK to be a major factor in aiding people in Gaza in the long run, not just during the war, and the last thing it would want, is for these workers to be hurt, and for this organization to stop working there. The other thing is that we know an incident like this might provide enough international pressure to force Israel to stop the war, while our hostages are still held in the hands of brutal rapist terrorists, and while Hamas still exists, and threatens more massacres like the one we saw on Oct 7. What logical country would sacrifice the safety of its 9.8 million citizens (and the 8.4 million non-citizens it sees itself as responsible for, too) just in order to kill 7 random people, who were perceived as helping it, and who aren't even a part of the group that supposedly this country is targeting? It's not a logical call to make. Anyone who thinks Israel did this intentionally, is treating the Jewish state as if it's a comic book evil villain. I wonder why. When a humanitarian aid airdrop accidentally killed at least 5 Palestinians, and at least 18 were killed during another, I don't remember that anyone was quick to say it was intentional without so much as an investigation, or that those responsible for it must be stopped, rather than that they must study what went wrong, and continue while taking precautions that it won't happen again.

In Belgium, a home for Holocaust survivors has been vandalized with supposedly pro-Palestinian graffiti, reading "Gaza free" and followed by a swastika. This is pure antisemitism, very thinly veiled.

Here's a reminder that if Hamas is allowed to continue existing, and ruling Gaza as a dictatorship, that's not just a threat to the lives of Israeli and Jews, it's also horrible news for Palestinians. IDF soldiers found in Gaza documents that reveal how Hamas had tortured and brutally executed one of its own commanders back in 2016, based on the accusation that he's gay. Anyone who claims to be pro-Palestinian, but is silent about the human rights abuses that Palestinian suffer at the hands of their own leadership, is not that at all, they're just exploiting the Palestinians to demonize Jews.

This is 22 years old Dor Almog (right) and his best friend, Amit.

Amit invited him to the Nova music festival, but he had to miss most of it due to an exam he had. Dor planned to study, and then join his friend at the end of the party, but he fell asleep, and was woken up by the sirens alerting everyone about the thousands of Hamas rockets fired at Israel at 6:30 in the morning. "That was the last time I saw Amit," Dor said about the moment his best friend left for the party. "We've been friends since the age of zero." Amit went to the party and was murdered by Hamas terrorists. Dor and the rest of Amit's friends decided to get his tattoo on their body, and that at some point they would travel to India, which was his dream that he didn't get to fulfil. Dor fought to be called for reserves duty in Gaza. He's the only soldier who survived the deadliest incident there, in which 21 Israeli young men were killed, the last operation his unit was supposed to be a part of, before being discharged. When the explosion took place, he was in a building that collapsed, he fell two floors, and the building crashed over him. "I smiled, because I thought I was about to die, and be with Amit again. But then I literally saw a light at the end of a tunnel, and started crawling there." He was kept in a coma for 5 days, to help his body cope, and only 2 days after he woke up, was he told the news about what happened to his friends in the unit. "That was the real blow." When asked about being a hero, he said, "I'll be that when I get back on my feet."

May Amit's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Chapter Eighteen

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.9k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN | MASTERLIST | FINALE

all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

IMPORTANT NOTE*: final warning to those on my taglist. if you do not interact with this post within 24 hours after not interacting with the hella fuckin' Rafe Cameron oneshots i posted last week, you will be removed. i do not like being strict but i am not asking for a lot. if you've been interacting then this message is not for you. but if you haven't been... i'm sorry. you will be removed.

            You didn’t stop running until it started to get dark. You headed south, like you & Bear planned, but wasn’t stupid enough to think you had pulled one over on Rafe. Micah was a damn good tracker, they would see that you took off in the opposite direction you led them in. You knew you couldn’t outrun them forever, especially with the physical pain you were in, but you would be damned if you didn’t try your hardest. You were convinced that if you could get far enough, that it’d be just out of reach of Rafe’s clutches & then you’d be free.

            More importantly, you hoped to run into Bear. The forest you were running through was never-ending though. For miles in either direction you’d only find more forestry. That worked in your favor though. The furthest away you were from civilization the better. Rafe would anticipate you looking for shelter. But you had a backpack full of survival goods. There was no tent or sleeping bag but you’d make do. You’d learn how to survive on your own in the woods, at least until you found Bear.

            By the time you stopped running, the sky above the trees was turning into a dark blue. The trees were growing denser with darkness. Traveling any further would be a risk but you couldn’t risk being found. However, you had to at least slow down. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t stop moving until you crossed the border into South Carolina, exhaustion be damned.

            But your body had other plans. Your back was aching, the wounds having opened up in your attack against Adrianna. Your feet were sore as well from running for so long. You could feel yourself growing weaker as you walked, your limbs carrying you slowly. Whether you wanted to or not, you’d have to stop & get some rest.

            You peered into the darkness until you found some thick foliage that would make do for some cover. You fell to your knees & crawled into the brush. You ignored your minor fears of snakes & spiders, as there were bigger, scarier things to fear now. You tucked your feet in so they wouldn’t be exposed & shoved your backpack into a small crevasse where you could lay your head. After you felt you would get as comfortable & as safe as possible, you kept your knife & gun right beside you.

            The sounds of the forest sung around you. Cicadas, a light breeze rustling the treetops, a nearby creek with trickling water. You allowed your eyes to flutter clothes as you laid on your stomach, desperate to fall asleep & perhaps wake to a better world.

            Something kicked your foot & you shot your eyes open. Having forgotten you were sleeping within foliage, your head became covered in leaves, sticks, & who knows what else. Another kick & you gasped. Peering through the leaves of where you hid, you could see someone standing outside your hiding spot, your ankle exposed for all to see.

            It was daytime. You scrambled to grab your gun & knife but they were nowhere near you.

            “Out.” A man’s voice sounded, “Hands first then the rest o’ya.”

            Gulping you strained to see as much as the stranger as you could but your hiding spot had done too good a job of shielding other from your point of view.

            “Out!” The voice yelled, “Or I start shooting.”

            “Okay!” You finally responded, “Okay, don’t shoot, I’m coming out.”

            Getting to your knees, & wincing at the stinging stiffness of your back, you pushed your hands through the foliage so the stranger could see them. You slowly crawled forward until you were completely out of the brush & on your knees before the stranger.

            Your eyes squinted at the change in brightness. You shielded your eyes from the sun so you could glance up at the man before you.

            He was gruff looking, like a nomad. His clothes were layered & blended well with the forest around you. He had a full beard that was thick with many gray hairs & a wool cap on his head. His brows were in a frown as he glared down at you warily. And it was only then that you noticed he was pointing a bow & arrow at you. You gulped, your eyes staring wide-eyed at the nomad’s weapon.

            “Whose blood is that?” He questioned, aiming his bow at your chest.

            You followed his line of sight. Your white top was caked in Adrianna’s blood, along with earthen residue from your sleepover in the foliage.

            You eyes met his again, fearful of what he would do to you.

            “I won’t ask again, young lady.”

            “It’s…” Your voice was hoarse & you frowned, clearing it, “Someone who was trying to kill me.”

            “Did they have good reason to?”

            That made you shake. What kind of question was that?

            “No.” You ultimately responded.

            “Why were they trying to kill you?”

            “Because…” You pressed your lips together in thought, sure that any answer you’d give would only prolong your inevitable death. “Because I was trying to escape.”

            The man eyed you from being his bow & arrow, “Where you escape from?”

            “A hell-hole.” You returned, shaking your head in disbelief.

            Running from Rafe was the best thing you could do for yourself, but you only ran into more trouble. Perhaps, into someone worse, though you didn’t think anyone could be worse than Rafe.

            A branch snapped from behind you & you whipped your head around, panic gripping your heart. But your heart slowed as you took in the appearance of a young woman, maybe high school age, appear from behind a tree.

            “Goddamnit!” The man hissed from behind you, “I told you to stay hidden until I got to the bottom of this.”

            Your eyes flickered between the two & you watched in curiosity as the young girl began signing to the man with her hands. She pointed at you, a frown on her face as she spoke without words.

            The man grunted & sighed, stealing your attention once more.

            “You hurt?” He questioned, gesturing to something behind you. But when you glanced back you were confused at what he was gesturing to you.

            “Your back.”

            “Oh.” You blindly reached towards your back but the man raised his bow higher.

            “Don’t!”

            “I—I don’t have anything on me, I swear. I did—a gun & knife—but I don’t know where they are.”

            “I have them.” He admitted, “Now, are you hurt?”

            “Yes.” You breathed out.

            The man’s eyes flicked to the young girl behind you, nodding.

            “My daughter.” He told you as you heard & felt the young girl approach, “She can take a look for you.”

            You nodded shakily.

            “But don’t think of trying anything. I’ll end your life in a second.”

            “I know.” You breathed out, “I won’t.”

            Glancing over your shoulder, you watched as the young girl approached slowly. Your eyes met & you could see the sadness there as she peered at you before getting close enough to touch. Then she kneeled down behind you & reached for the hem of your crop top.

            A hiss passed between your teeth as the fabric of your top peeled away from your back. The wounds Micah left having split open & caked blood stuck to your shirt.

            The young girl shuddered & covered her mouth, her eyes watering. Then she looked up at her father, signing yet again.

            You watched as the man understood what she told him.

            “Someone do that to you?” His eyes met yours once again.

            You gulped, “Lots of someone’s.”

            “You kill them?”

            “No.” Your voice shook, “Only one…but there’s more.”

            “They after you?”

            If you admitted that they were, the man & young girl would leave you, but if you lied & said they weren’t, you’d risk their lives.

            “Yes.”

            The man inhaled sharply, nodding at his daughter to move away.

            “You dangerous?”

            The question made you falter.

            No.

            But you had killed Adrianna. You were capable of taking another life.

            “I don’t know.” You admitted, “I’m just trying to survive.”

            You felt your eyes fluttering closed. He would either kill you or leave you defenseless. Neither was desirable. But you had no choice in the matter.

            A shuffle forced your eyes open & you watched in mild surprise as the man swung the bow onto his back. He stepped forward, offering his hand, “You can come with us. But only for today & tonight. Then you’re on your own. I got a daughter to protect & you look to be trouble.”

            “I understand.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, giving him your hand, “Thank you.”

            “C’mon then. Get your things. We got a bit of a hike to our campsite.”

            Their campsite was incredible. You had never seen anything like it before. It made you recall all those post-apocalyptic films that are set in the woods & you were truly living in one now.

            The man put his gear away along the cavern wall as his daughter led you to the edge of the small body of water.

            She signed at you & you watched as your hands & fingers attempted to speak to you. But you frowned, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

            “You need to take your shirt off. So she can clean your wounds.”

            You frowned at that. The young girl looked to her father then back to you, nodding.

            “I—” Your eyes fell to the man whose back was to you, “I don’t—”

            “Don’t worry.” The man grumbled, “I’m going back out to check the traps. You two can be alone.”

            With that, the man disappeared the way you all came & you breathed a sigh of relief. The young girl beside you chuckled lightly at that. Your eyes met hers & you smiled weakly.

            “Sorry. I just don’t trust people. Especially men.”

            She nodded at that before reaching for your shirt. You raised your arms so she could remove the bloodied & dirtied shirt from your body.

            The young girl worked on your back for some time. It was almost soothing, despite the pain. You had your toes slid into the water & your knees to your chest as she cleaned & disinfected your wounds before dressing them. Afterwards, you felt far better off than you had when Adrianna’s dressed them.

            When she finally stood up, gesturing for you to do the same, you smiled at her, “Thank you.”

            She signed back.

            But as you approached your backpack near the center of the campsite, it was only then that you realized you didn’t have any other clothes to wear. Rafe hadn’t packed that far ahead. You supposed you could wear your bloodied shirt again, but before you could manage to do that, the young girl appeared from within the tent, a pile of folded clothes in her hands.

            “For me?” You asked. She confirmed by handing them to you.

            “How do you say, ‘thank you’ in sign language?” You asked, accepting the pile of clothes.

            The young girl brought her hand to her chin, touching it, before moving it away & towards you.

            You mimicked the movement. She nodded.

            In the tent, you quickly got dressed, save for the thick jacket. Though it was beginning to become autumn outside, it was still much too warm during the day to wear it. But it would come in handy during the night.

            The man returned & he carried a wire string of fish hanging from his first, “Whose hungry?”

            It was shortly after sun fell when you sat by a dimly lit fire in the cavern. The man purposefully kept it low, informing you that the bigger the fire the stronger the smell. He gave you a few lessons in survival & taught you tips to aid you in outrunning Rafe.

            He was a doomsday prepper, telling you he had known this day would be coming for a long time. You had heard of people like him, but you were surprised to see him out in the world rather than in a bunker.

            “Unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds to build a bunker, but I sure tried.” He told you, his voice deep & rough as he watched the fire burn.

            “But we heard on a radio transmission about a commune up north. Survivors. Apparently, the virus hasn’t affected the area.”

            You recalled having heard something similar back at the military compound. It felt like ages ago that that ever happened. Back when all of your friends were alive & on the same team.

            “It’s probably bullshit.” You commented mindlessly.

            The man chuckled at that but nodded, “Probably. But I gotta think about my daughter. If she has a better chance of survival there then I gotta get her there.”

            His daughter was asleep in the tent at that point. The opening to the tent was zipped halfway, but you could make out her forehead just inside there.

            “Was she born deaf?” You questioned.

            The man grunted & shifted in his seat before nodding towards the tent, “She ain’t deaf.”

            What?

            Before you could ask further, the man continued.

            “But her mama was.” He revealed.

            “Oh.” You frowned at that, “Where’s she?”

            He sighed heavily, peering into the embers, “She dead.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            The man eyed you but nodded.

            “Was it the virus?”

            “No.” He shook his head, “Thank Christ. Cancer. She died a couple years ago.”

            Cancer, just another death sentence.

            “Ever since then…she hasn’t spoken.” He said, referring to his daughter, “Docs said it was a trauma response so I let it go thinking she would outgrow it but…she has yet to.”

            “She’s lucky to have you.” You told him. His eyes met yours.

            “Where are your folks?”

            You shrugged, not having thought about them in a long time, “Dead. Probably.”

            He grunted at that, “Sorry to hear it.”

            “I think what kills me the most about it is that my mom probably died alone. In her bed, in our big empty house. I have no clue where my dad was. He was a pilot, always traveling, always gone.”

            The man nodded along as you spoke.

            “I try not to think about it.” You admitted.

            “I understand that.”

            “Where are you two from?” You asked.

            The man took a swig from his water bottle before answering, “A little farm outside Chesterfield. You?”

            “Tampa.” You replied, “But I was going to school in Gainesville when the virus hit.”

            The man whistled knowingly, “That’s a long ways away. You traveled that far with your group, huh?”

            “Kind of.” You muttered, recalling all the events leading up to that moment, “Before everything fell apart, before sides were taken & trust was broken.”

            “This kid that’s after you… think he’ll give up?’

            You frowned. Rafe was never the kind to give up.

            “No.” Your voice was barely audible.

            The man sighed at that. Then he moved, reaching into a bag near his feet. You watched as he pulled out your gun & knife.

            “I was gonna wait to give these back to you till mornin’.” He admitted but then handed them to you, “But I trust you need them more for protection than to cause harm.”

            “Thank you.” You breathed out, accepting them back.

            “I’m sorry you can’t come with us.” He said but you shook your head in response, “Don’t be. It’s better off this way. I wouldn’t want him hurting either of you.”

            “You gonna keep heading south?”

            “Mmm.” You nodded, tucking your knife & gun away, “A friend of mine was supposed to come this way.”

            It was then that you discussed with him Bear. His appearance, his personality, his protectiveness over you. Unfortunately, the man had never seen him. So, he would be unable to tell you if you were heading in the right direction.

            Afterwards, the man stomped out the fire before cracking his back, “I oughta get some shut-eye now. I laid out a sleeping back in the corner there for ya.”

            “Thank you.”

            “S’no problem.” He grunted before making way towards the tent. He did not go inside but zipped it up before lying on the ground outside of it.

            You followed suit & crawled into the sleeping bag he laid out for you. Much like the night before, you listened to the sounds of your environment. The waterfall was like a lullaby as you eventually succumbed to sleep.

            Morning came & before you knew it you were facing the man & his daughter as you prepared to split off from them.

            “Remember what I taught you.” The man started as he eyed you.

            “I know.” You raised your feet to show the socks of your boots. He said it would help not only cover your tracks but also silence your steps. “Thank you for everything.”

            The young girl mustered a smile as she watched you.

            “If you change your mind, we’ll be heading towards Worcester. I left a map circled with where you can find our campsite near there if you want to follow inside your backpack.”

            You smiled at that, but you would not be able to follow them, not for as long as you knew Rafe was still out there.

            “Please be careful. Rafe, he’s…dangerous. He won’t hesitate to kill you, either of you.”

            It terrified you, imagining Rafe putting a bullet into the man & his young daughter’s skulls.

            The man grunted but nodded.

            “Oh, &, if you do see my friend, Bear, will you tell him I’ll be where he lost his last game of beer pong.”

            “Sorry?” The man asked.

            “He’ll know what you mean.”

            “If I see him, I’ll pass along your message.”

            “Thank you.” You voiced before eyeing the girl. You thanked her in sign language. She signed back.

            “Be safe, now.” The man said once more with finality.

            “You, too.”

153 days since the world ended

            It took nearly two weeks before you reached your destination. Thanks to the man & his daughter, you were well-equipped for the lengthy travel. You only had the one set of clothes that the young girl gave you but you stopped every three days to wash them thoroughly. They had also given you plenty of food & taught you how to trap fish on days when you needed to rest & eat.

            The first couple days you had been reasonably paranoid. Though the man & his daughter were a surreal break from the reality of being hunted down, you were back to being on alert all the time. However, as the days continued & you moved further south, you grew confident that Rafe was far in your rearview mirror. You decided to yourself that you would stay at the house for only a couple days, leaving a hidden note somewhere for Bear to find should he come looking for you, before you would move on. One thing you knew about being hunted was that you couldn’t stop moving.

            It was bittersweet seeing the city limit sign for Gainesville. You had stuck to the woods, wide fields, & abandoned roads in your two week trek back to your college town. You had contemplated moving towards Tampa, but Bear did not know where you lived with you family there. So, you would leave a note in his room telling him where to find you if he didn’t show up after a couple days.

            Gainesville had changed little in the five months you had been gone. It was clear the town was abandoned. Cars were covered in dust & rusting under the previous summer sun. Business establishments & homes were cleared out, doors hanging off their hinges & windows broken to reveal the havoc within. You did well to stay hidden as you walked the streets, pausing often to listen for any potential signs of life. But none ever came.

            It wasn’t long before you turned onto Greek row & approached the abandoned fraternity house. You stood on the sidewalk for some time, staring up at it. The last time you had been there was when you all returned from camping. Now, you were alone. The lawn was overgrown & there was a few broken windows, but otherwise, the house was in good condition. You approached hesitantly.

            Once on the porch, you pushed the door open & it creaked with your arrival. You stood outside for a moment longer & listened intently. It was peacefully quiet. You produced your gun from your waistband & entered the house. You did a thorough walk-through of the whole house, second floor & basement included, before you felt confident that there was no life.

            You returned to the main floor & locked the door, pushing a heavy piece of furniture in front of it. You knew it wasn’t the only entrance to the house but most people would try to come through the front door.

            In the kitchen, you glanced around. It looked as if time had stopped. Evidence of the ‘We Wear Pink on Wednesday’s’ end of school celebration party was still there. Red solo cups littered the floor & counter tops. Pink streamers hung wryly from doorframes. A plethora amount of liquor bottles were piled in the sink. You stood there for some time, remembering how not so long ago, you had been in that very kitchen watching your friends battle against one another in a game of beer pong as you & Rafe took shots on the sidelines.

            Rafe. The memory dulled your senses. Who knew this was the world ending would lead to?

            In the fridge, you were not surprised to find anything. The boys rarely had food anyway & what little you did find was rotten & moldy. You slammed the door shut before heading for the stairs. You walked down the lengthy corridor that houses many of the frat brother’s private rooms. On the wall was pictures of members, past & present. You paused when you spotted the face of your boyfriend smiling proudly in one.

            Your heart shattered as you looked at Sayyed’s friendly face. He was in the middle of Rafe & Bear, the three of them in good spirits at what looked to be a pep rally. You remembered that day well. But then your eyes cast over to the man on Sayyed’s left. Rafe. He was never a friend, no matter how much he looked like one in photos.

            Leaving the picture, you trailed the rest of the hallway until you reached a door near the end. Sayyed’s.

            Inhaling sharply, you steeled yourself & pushed the door open.

            It looked almost like how he left it. His drawers & clothes were scattered on the floor, his bed unmade. His closet doors were open & hangers stuck out from him having gathered clothes in a haste. You felt your muscles relax as you took in his room. You had spent many nights there, cuddling with him in bed as the two of you watched reruns of Spongebob. He was your home away from home.

            Walking around to the other side of his bed, you sat down, glancing at his nightstand. In a picture frame was a photo collage of his friends & family. Nuha was in a lot of them, looking glamourous as always. Behind that picture was another. You fingered it & picked it up.

            “Hey, you.” You whispered as your finger traced over his face.

            It was the two of you. Both smiling as you stood one of the many beaches in Tampa. That was taken the first time you brought him home to meet your parents. He spent half the summer with you. You grinned openly as you remembered him chasing you into the ocean as you two wrestled to throw the other under the small waves. Both of you looked so happy to be alive, to be there together.

            Your vision blurred as tears threatened to fall.

            How did it feel like all the time in the world had passed? How did it feel like he never existed? How had it only been five months yet it felt like five hundred years?

            You sniffled, bringing the picture frame to your chest as you lied down on your back. In the two weeks it took you two arrive there, your back had healed greatly. It was stiff often but the pain had disappeared over time. There were still a few scabs, & you could still feel the ridges of the wounds as they scarred over, but they were mostly gone for the most part. As for your fingers, they too had healed. Adrianna had set them before your escape & since you had little opportunity to really strain them, you were able to use them. Kind of. You didn’t push hard, relying on your left hand as much as you could, but you were relieved that your body was healing. All that was left to mend was your mind.

            It was dark when you opened your eyes. You groaned softly, not having meant to fall asleep in Sayyed’s bed. You pushed yourself up, the picture falling into your lap as you did. You eyed it once more before returning it to the nightstand. Your mouth was dry. You needed to drink water.

            Reprimanding yourself, you remembered then that you left your backpack downstairs in the kitchen. You knew better than to part with your survival goods. Leaving Sayyed’s room, you began walking down the hall when you stopped abruptly. The door to the room next to Sayyed’s was open. Normally that wouldn’t have bothered you, as you didn’t specifically note which doors in that hallway were open or closed, but it bothered you greatly because it was the door that led to Rafe’s old room.

            Staring at it, you felt your heart quicken. Could he be on the other side?

            But you shook your head. It had been over two weeks since you escaped Rafe. If he was still chasing after you, he wouldn’t have beaten you here. And even if he had…did he know you well-enough to think you’d come there? If anything, you’d’ve gone to your apartment with Millie. It’s why you ultimately chose the frat house. It wouldn’t be expected.

            Steeling yourself, you kicked in the door to Rafe’s room. It was dark & the only light came from the moon outside that cast it’s light through the sole window. You kept your hand on your gun, finger over the trigger, as you took a step inside. It was quiet, barren, lifeless.

            You breathed out a sigh of relief.

            Perhaps you’d leave sooner than later. Even if coming to frat house was unexpected, you still couldn’t put it past Rafe to check every single place he knew you knew about. Your plan to stay there for a couple days would be cut short. You’d get some water, go back to sleep, & in the morning you’d take what you could from the house, leave a note for Bear in his room, then leave. You had to keep moving.

            Back downstairs, you entered the kitchen, spotting your backpack on the table that was commonly used for beer pong. You began approaching it when you stopped again, though this time for a more terrifying reason.

            In the darkness, against the backdrop of the window on the other side of the table, was a silhouette.

            Your heart raced.

            No. It was your imagination. A trick of the light. Your paranoia.

            But then the silhouette moved, leaning forward against the table. And as it did, you finally caught the glint of something evil in the eyes that met your own.

            “You should’ve kept running, _____.” Rafe’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard as you reeled backwards. But you didn’t get far when you felt yourself crash against a solid figure.

            Spinning around you were horrified to find Micah standing behind you.

            Immediately, you yanked out your gun, prepared to fire blindly but Micah swung a closed fist towards your face & you fell to the ground, your gun skidding into the darkness.

            A shrill scream erupted from you as you desperately crawled backwards.

            “No!” You cried out—angry, scared.

            Your back met a wall of cabinets & you thrashed away from Micah’s outstretched hand as he attempted to catch your ankle. But your fight was quickly snuffed out as Micah dragged you back to the center of the kitchen. He straddled your hips with one hand on your sternum holding you down, & the other gathering a fistful of your hair at the back of your head.

            Rafe appeared above you then, the darkness only adding to their insidious intentions. He cocked his head, feigning a frown.

            “How?” You winced, glaring up at him.

            Rafe shook his head, “I know you better than you do.”

            Then you watched in horror as he glanced at Micah. Nodding.

            “No!” You screamed once more, but your scream died on your lips as Micah brought another fist to your face. And another. And another. Until you collapsed against the linoleum of the kitchen, blood seeping from your nose & mouth.

            Your vision swayed & blackened as you heard the mean speak above you, but their words were muffled & faded.

            Subconsciousness came for you & this time, you hoped it would swallow you whole.

after a brief break to complete the celebration requests, i am back with the second to last chapter of Rise! the next chapter will be the finale & trust me when i say...it'll be a doozy.

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thank you for reading

oona<3

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[maidenvault]

RotJ makes a point of letting us know that Leia is Luke's sister, they've known this on some level for a long time, and he probably cares more about her than anyone in the world because this gives so much more weight to his conflict at the end of the movie, and I think this is a huge thing people overlook when they argue that him redeeming his father represents a rejection of the old Jedi ways of non-attachment. Because in the moment he has to let go of Leia and his friends to be able to actually save Anakin.

When Obi-Wan tries to convince Luke that he has to kill Vader and there's no other way, he doesn’t really discuss it as an issue of Luke having an attachment to him. I think he knows this isn't really the Jedi way but just like in the previous war, they don't seem to be faced with any good choices. Obi-Wan believes what Luke wants is truly impossible and, having failed to stop Vader when he could have before, of course he's trying to stop Luke from making the same mistake.

But it's significant that in the same conversation, Obi-Wan does warn him that his love for his sister could be made a liability if he's not careful. When Luke learns he has a twin and reveals how strong a connection he feels with Leia because he doesn't even have to be told who it is, Obi-Wan's response sets up how this will play into the climax of the film:

"Your insight serves you well. Bury your feelings deep down, Luke. They do you credit, but they could be made to serve the Emperor."

Then when Luke is brought to Sidious, he reveals to Luke that the Rebellion is walking right into a trap as a way to torment and provoke him. Luke gets angrier and angrier while helplessly watching the fleet get ambushed and finally does just what Sidious wants and tries to attack him. But it's Vader specifically threatening Leia that makes Luke totally lose control of his feelings and fight him in a rage.

Luke is basically facing the same kind of test he failed so badly in ESB by running off to help his friends. When Yoda is trying to make him see he's not ready to face Vader and keep him from going to Bespin, he says something that I think is such an underrated quote in its importance to Luke's whole journey:

"Decide you must how to serve them best. If you leave now, help them you could, but you would destroy all for which they have fought and suffered."

Luke is really lucky he doesn't get killed in Cloud City (or captured, which I think at this point could have resulted in him being turned). Yoda knows Luke is the one person with a chance of defeating the Emperor and Luke just about throws that away.

But at the end of RotJ when Luke cuts off Vader's hand, he surely is reminded of his failure at Bespin and sees the path he's starting down by succumbing to his fears like that again. He stops because he sees he's betraying his loved ones and everything he is. He can only throw away his weapon and confidently tell the Emperor to eat shit then because he's no longer afraid of dying or of those he loves dying. He's done what his father couldn't do and kept his soul intact, which is what Leia would want. Because real love isn't selfishly trying to save someone by betraying what they believe in like Anakin did with Padme. And it obviously has to be an incredibly powerful thing for Vader to see his own son able to do this, even comparing himself to the man he once was ("I am a Jedi, like my father before me").

We remember everything working out okay so it's easy sometimes to forget that Luke gives this triumphant speech when the rebel fleet is getting pulverized outside and things overall still look pretty hopeless. He probably expects he could die at this point. But like Obi-Wan in his own death scene, he knows nothing can destroy him now. And it's the love he feels for his family that gives him the strength to let go.

[missmarveledsblog]

It's the middle ( Joel miller x reader)

Summary: the town had their own theories to why y/n shell suddenly was opening more , only some took it as invitations and after she sets an asshole straight in the bar for his words on her and Ellie she is attacked . Some things are reveal and a darkness is coming back from the past

Warning: attempted sa , sort of heavy part not gonna lie

This is part two of its a start

They wondered how he did it , how the usually non social butterfly Joel miller got the surprisingly worse no social y/n well to talk . it wasn’t like she was new towns personality or anything but she was saying hello and actually answering people. They heard her voice albeit at first was almost a whisper but it was far from the short nods of acknowledgements which to be fair were also far and few inbetween . ellie also stop swearing keeping her word for a whole ten minutes before her mouth caught that missed out time up. But in the end they all wondered how he done it.

Something that didn’t end with the world was the gossip , each having their on theories of the matter from something bad happening she it was like a life is too short sort of thing to not so pg remarks that joel fucked her so hard she went into a factory reset those ones made him roll his eyes and scoff. She on other hand didn’t take notice of the rumours , ignored whispers about her as she walked learning to be open again was taking up more head space then grown adults acting like teenage girls. Which the little social interaction now open she notice men her age and older started talking to her some took her saying no as it was , some added weak jokes but again took her word and other well they didn’t take it so well like the very existence of her rejection was a threat to their male centred egos . she didn’t give them time of day which only made them more pissed like she was” little miss high and mighty” in their words. One in particular didn’t like it as much as the others , thought his shit didn’t stink and she was lucky to even have his attention .

Nigel Baker , he was attractive she’d give him that but it was everything else that was so ugly about him . the man was selfish , expected the best when he gave the bare minimum and serial womaniser . He bragged about how he took down a hoard of infected with just his hunting knife yet seemly everytime it was time for him to go on patrol he would have some form of injury that would make him useless for the task but for some reason or other he thought he desired everything he wanted and that included y/n .

“ he’s staring at you again , creepy fuck” ellie rolled her eyes as two sat at the bar of tipsy bison.

“ let him i ain’t bothered man like that is a child at best” she chuckled taking sip of her whiskey as ellie drank her water although she did try persuade them give her a glass of the “ hard stuff” .

“ i mean joel and tommy should be here soon , he usually stops when their around , going back to his fake ass tales” she snorted.

“ fake ass tales who would that be?” the sniffling voice asked behind them .

“ oh you know some kids and their tales , it’s cute but you can tell real one mile away” y/n barely looked at the man who was too well self absorbed to pick up the slight dig in her words.

“ ain’t it truth , they ain’t like us baby huh? Real survivors ” he took seat beside her.

“ why you talking like that aren’t you from chicago or something” ellie snorted at fake southern drawl he kept putting on .

“ ain’t you too young to be here , seems as though the miller bitches need to be taught their place, is that what you need baby , i mean fix her might make that one like men again huh? ” he shot back .

“Hey hey , so you fought off a hoard right that must of been scary when you do that” she asked batting her lashes fake smile like she wasn’t biting her tongue .

“ oh like six month ago easily” the smirk on his face one she seen in so many before him a mask of a monster, was the best way to describe it.

“ do you have it” she asked sweetly as ellie head watched in amusement , she may of not heard y/n speaking long but it was long enough to know she was playing with the man before her.

“ course ya can , see this is the one that did it” he held it up, anyone with weapons experience could tell it was a phoney ,thing wasn’t cutting anything but possibly the air. She took it from his hands and let out a loud laugh , louder than anyone possibly ever heard before including ellie.

“ this ain’t fighting anything but a hoard of butterflies never mind infected , i mean it’s good but it’s faker than your accent which could use a little work just saying” she snorted.

“ clearly don’t know anything about knives baby because look at it clearly been through it ” he scoffed although the blush on his face told a different story.

“ i know it a faux metal made probably what six months ago rust and pattern on knives ain't like that this ones got green flecks not the rust of the older ones would get , see it don’t even mark the wood so nigel my fake ass cowboy infected annihilator why the bullshit because my daddy used to make um before all this told me how to spot cheap ones from the real ones , i can see now why you don’t go on patrol wouldn’t want to break the show piece… oh and cowboy wanna be ain’t nothing needs to fixed with ellie just pissed she get more women than you do ” she laughed watching his smirk fall , that look in his eyes .

“ you’d wanna shut your mouth girl , just cause your joel millers plaything doesn’t mean i won’t put you in your place” he growled.

“ go ahead and you’ll see what a real knife is” she smiled holding it in her hand and his fake in her other . “ now leave before we have real problems” she handed it over .

“ watch yerself sweetheart old man can protect you all time” he hissed.

“ i can protect myself little man” she waved watching him storm out .

“ that was bad ass, the rust really go green ?” ellie chuckled .

“ the metal has a chemical reaction over time only thing that knife could do is spread butter on my toast i mean could take down one but even at that it would break easily” she shrugged.

“ hey there’s dina i’ll tell her to wait here til joel gets here incase he’s outside ” ellie smiled excitedly.

“ nah go ahead joel will show up he knows we’re here and bastard knows his place go on lover girl ” she smiled taking another swig .

“ ok tell him i’ll be home for curfew” she had a bashful smile while heading to the girl ones she’s expressed her interest in the last while seen as it wasn’t one side and two were close. Of course y/n wanted that , she wanted it with a man she could never have well in her mind could never have .

It was hours she sat waiting only too give up thinking maybe the meeting was in over time or joel already went home either way she was getting tired and her bed was definitely calling , a few good men offered to walk her home but she waved them off knowing it was a five minute walk back plus air was getting cooler hoping to catch the first of snowfall one tradition she always kept from her old life , the life of her family . ones who wanted her to be must of a child as she could be in a world falling apart. She stood out it was perfect sort of weather , her eyes on the sky watching waiting as she walked through the darkening streets of jackson . like on cue the first flake floated down from the sky as she smiled softly catching it on her finger tips , then another and then another. So concentrated on the connection to memories she didn’t register the figure sneaking up behind her til his hand was around her mouth and other dragging her off into the makeshift ally of the stores. Kicking and pushing trying to break the grip to no avail , being tired and drinks in her system didn’t have her as precise as before . she felt herself being slammed into the walls hitting her head against the brick but she could tell even in her daze vision she knew exactly who it was.

“ fucking bitch , what you gonna be a nasty little slut for , what is it i’m too young fer ya , like em old” nigel spat pinning her front to the cold wall . “ i’ll get you liking em you age again put manners on ya , stop you running your mouth” he laughed as she felt his hand going to her jean only for her to pull the knife out she could feel the blood heading into her eye . she felt his hand going for the button only for her knife to hit the skin cutting him making him get off of her with a hiss when she pushed him away . she ran yelling , screaming loudly as could hoping someone would hear her. She felt the arms wrapping around her making her slap and hit the person away.

“ darling stop it’s me , calm down” his voice , the man she wanted the panic setting as his scent hit her know . his voice calming that fight only for her to break in his arms it reminded him of the night she first let those walls come down . “ what happened” he asked softly.

“ nigel he tried to … tried”she said before crying again what she didn’t know was the men heard the commotion , was heading way as tommy and couple others headed to the alley .

“ take er home we’re going to pack his bags” tommy called as the men held nigel in their grips probably for his own safety from the look on joel’s face .

“ come on darling we get you home and cleaned up” joel lifted her up a her hang clung to him terrified like some how her mind made up the fact he was there and if she let go he would disappear. “ i cut him” she sniffled head buried in his neck. “ i hurt him to get away”.

“ only protecting yourself darling s’okay “ .

“ i pissed him off , provoked him joel i made everyone laugh at him i just wanted him leave me alone” she began crying again he could see it her torn clothes blood on her face the bruise on her cheek , the way she shook in his arms . it killed him , killed him to see her like this hell if she didn’t need him so much the bastard be dead before tommy and other even got the chance but she needed him and he promised her he always got him on her side.

He brought her to cleaned her up , gave her some clothes and gave her his bed for the night .

Ellie was late but moment she stepped in door she knew something was wrong, she could see he was tense more so than usual , she could see the bloody cloth and yet not scratch on him .

“ Y/N was attacked tommy and couple other taking him out of town , she’s sleep upstairs so be quiet” he said too tired mental and physically hating if wasn’t so close what the outcome would of been.

“ let me guess nigel” she asked .

“ yeah she told me about the bar man waited til she wasn’t looking , took her off guard cause prick knew she would of done worse if he confronted her straight on” he spatted hands gripping the chair knuckles bone white . “ lucky i ain’t out there now , she thought she done wrong , said she provoked him , she hurt him you believe that her heads busted open and bruised cheek and she thinks she done wrong i don’t care if she punched him in that bar a man don’t do that” he growled ready to grab his coat.

“ hey pretty girl you ok” ellie called looking to the stair snapping joel from rushing out the door.

“ i’m ok really urm i think i should get home” she smiled weakly.

“ yeah not happening in fact i’m putting you on house arrest til breakfast tomorrow” she joked hugging her tightly . “ i should of stayed” she could feel the shake in girls voice.

“ nah i already told him i’d show him real knife i got it don’t worry” she kissed her head softly probably only other person to have the affection from y/n . “ it’s no ones fault ellie he deserved what he got in the bar after what he said nothings more fragile than a monsters ego” she pulled back .

“ what he say in the bar?” joel asked.

“ bragging , said ellie needed fix , i was your plaything i mean lists goes on” she rolled her eyes yet winced at the sting in her cheek. “ i was biting my tongue and then he started with that so i well probably pushed too far but i’d do it again” she sat on sofa .

“ go get bed kid let you off this time coming home late” joel nodded his head at stair .

“ you better be here is morning , night you two” she called heading up the stairs .

“ i’ll take sofa” she looked up at him a smile on her face but he could tell it was put on , he could see it didn’t reach her eyes or did it convince anyone before he could say anything a knock was heard at door making her jump .

“ it probably tommy relax i’ll tell him come back in morning” he patted her shoulder hating how she tensed under he touch but he didn’t take it personal . he was right minute door open it was his brother only he didn’t wait for joel to speak letting himself in straight over to where y/n .

“ hey firecracker you ok” he asked going to reach out touch her face only she moved back . “ sorry sweetheart , you cracked him in the nose and his hand is fucked so good job” he smiled weakly .

“ i didn’t know i just swung and ran” she laughed dryly wishing she done worse .

“ he gone?” joel asked .

“ we had bring him to doc but guys are bringing him out now” he nodded . “ you ok though? He didn’t…hurt you?” tommy asked feeling guilty for not getting rid of the prick sooner.

“ he only got to touch my jeans before i sliced his hand” her voice cracked looking down at the sweats .

“ ok ok good he won’t bother you again i promise you that , couple of guys will double check in morning too but tonight it best you stay here ok ” .

“She is now let er rest , come back tomorrow” joel huffed holding door open .

“ yeah right sorry it’s late just needed to..” he said only to hugged her tightly. “ i’m glad your ok” he smiled pulling back heading out the door.

“ Course I am I not alone anymore I got you guys” she Called out .

“ ok ok hallmark you need rest I'll see you tomorrow And so will maria bring proper shit to cover the wound “ he chuckled calling Back .

she sat looking at her hand , she hated she let herself Get distracted it could of been so much worse and yet joel proved her right He was there when she needed him , she wasn't facing things alone .

“ come on go take my bed no one needs to take watch"he huffed sitting beside her keeping his distance but still being close.

“ I can sleep every time my eyes close I feel the wall , I can feel his breathe on my skin “ she sighed head falling back hating She felt so vulnerable It wasn't a emotion she'd felt in years and one she thought she never Feel again .

“ I can sit with you talk So you won't hear him , you hear me , hold yer hand so you can feel me whatever you need I got you I promised you that and I don't break those not to You” he said softly watching the way she relaxed to his words , how when he touched her hand she didn't tense or freak out. She held on tighter like she was afraid it was all part of her dream , joel would be gone And Nigel Would come back .

“ could You stay with me all night?” It was so low almost a whisper But even he heard her like not matter What he'd always Hear Her. He didn't say much just a nod of his head and keeping hold of her Hand bringing her up the stairs making sure to keep his promise.

The towns Men all glared as he was dragged towards the gate . Each one Of them wanted to hit the bastards Since some had women In their life some had daughters some had sister , some had experience of men Like him . Nigel knew he fucked up moment She ran and they showed up . He seen it on all their Faces like they Took it personal but the bitch needed manners , needed to be taught A lesson . He pleaded Said he'd make it up some how but was only told me like that don't changed . Bag on his back And out the gate he went .

“ I'll bring um out” mark called dragging him roughly along other probably sensing a beating coming But for a man like him , shit happened with wave of their hands stood waiting.

“ come on you” he growled as The other man gulped. Wondering if he could make some Sort of break for it.

“ just play along asshole” mark hissed. “ I'm helping you out here” those words Melt his fear away following man out dragging his steps to make it look good .

Once they were out of the hearing range mark let him go pulling a knife and gun out Handing them over. “ there's a camp couple Miles east leader is jonah , tell Him mark sent you from jackson And whatever you have on y/n and jackson , he'll set you up , don't tell um you touched er though he'll kill you on spot” mark spoke Quietly.

“ why y/n why should I believe All this?” Nigel eyes widened .

“ because jonah. Wants his wife back sent me here To do it but i needed get on their good side” he explain hastily . “ just tell him soon” he handed over gun and knife . Headed back into town as other waited . “ he’s gone , wont see that scum again” he smirked to the men and headed off to his house. Yeah he needed to get y/n back soon and now with nigel might be sooner than he thought lets hope the dipshit made it.

Part three

[melonteee]

Zoro’s “she’s a woman” is also very funny to me, but after re-reading Skypeia I *think* I understand the vision behind it, even if the execution might’ve been clumsy.

Back in Jaya when Robin and Zoro are searching for the South Bird, there’s a brief scene where Robin criticizes Zoro for indiscriminately cutting down random critters, to which Zoro retorts that it’s the critters’ fault for getting in his way before reiterating his distrust for her. Despite this distrust, however, Zoro does seem to take Robin’s criticisms to heart as he stops uses the bladed end of his sword on critters in Jaya and mostly avoids using his swords on animals in Skypeia.

Which also creates an interesting parallel to Enel, who shares a very similar opinion to the one Zoro held in Jaya. Hell, some translations of Zoro’s response to Robin have it along the lines of “it’s their fault for challenging me” which is almost verbatim what Enel says in the arc about his “lambs.” And despite Enel insisting that he is an Equal Opportunity Vengeful God, there are scenes before the ones with Robin where Enel’s treatment of women is framed as predatory, in a way that also parallels how the Celestial Dragons are portrayed as treating women later, which also colors the way that Enel specifically attacks Robin also being predatory and motivated by misogyny. So I *think* Oda’s intent for Zoro was seeing his past attitude in Jaya reflected back at him and ultimately realizing that just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you *should* while also using the scene to comment on how god complex’s are often used as covers for bigotry.

But, even so, Zoro’s line is a clumsy summary if that’s the case. The Doylist explanation is that Oda has always struggled when it comes to threading the needle that is “how to convey female fighters are as strong and capable as the male fighters without also inadvertently endorsing real life gender-based violence” and sometimes this results in clumsy lines like Zoro’s. But my personal Watsonian head-canon is that the Plinko Horse in Zoro’s brain didn’t fire up fast enough to coherently summarize 45 chapters of character development, which results in him spitting out what sounds like a complete non-sequitur.

I respect this but my interpretation of it was Zoro does have an internalised misogyny, which is proven to us in Punk Hazard. He admits he doesn't like to nor wants to fight women to Tashigi, and Monet backs him against a wall because of it. He thinks it's dishonourable to target women as a man, and considering his dojo dad was from Wano, and he was raised with Wano ideals, AND he was raised in an all male dojo, it makes tons of sense.

I know a lot of people are confused about this because of Kuina, but his mentor said TO HIS FACE "I am a woman, you are a man. You will be stronger than me." How in the world would Zoro, at his baby age, not internalise that in some twisted way? Especially coming from the person he looked up to. It feels like it's commentary on the fact misogyny is taught, it's not just a natural born thing, and it ruins ones own perception of self and lives around them.

Zoro was quite literally raised in a male dominated space, where ONLY men were trained and told they were the strongest - it has been programmed into him. The thing is, this is written to be a NEGATIVE thing. This isn't me pointing at Zoro and calling him a piece of shit, this is me saying it's a FLAW Zoro has, and it's clearly one he must get over. The strongest swordsman in the world can literally not afford to look down on women as weaker, because I HIGHLY doubt Mihawk does that. Tashigi calls him out for it, and it's very obvious this is an internalised issue Zoro doesn't LIKE that he has.

Why in the world would Oda make Wano openly sexist towards its women, refusing to let them fight, and THEN reveal Kuina's family is quite literally FROM this country - hence WHY Kuina's dad was so insanely sexist. Of course this is going to become commentary on Zoro having to overcome taught beliefs, especially considering Zoro is one of the few Strawhats who has never actually fought a woman. Not only did he not actually touch nor fight Monet (he just scared the shit out of her), but he also took zero shots at Big Mum on the rooftop lmao. He fought her homies but not her, physically - not even once. There's clearly something going on there, and it's Zoro (and Sanji) specific, cause literally NO other male strawhat has a problem fighting women or seeing women on the battlefield (once again, apart from Sanji, and that's possibly a parallel).

I say that last part because yes Oda has sexism in his writing, but every time I hear Zoro's 'woman' line is just Oda being Oda, I want to tear my hair out. Otherwise EVERY male character would act like Zoro towards women, and they quite literally do not LMAO

I don't know why this is the hot take it seems to be, because I LOVE Zoro, but it's clear there's something going on with him in regards to internal prejudice. I think it's because, as a Sanji fan, there's an irony to saying all this lmao. But of course, I do not mean for any of this to be negative, because I am excited to see if this side of Zoro actually gets explored. Ie Zoro defeats misogyny and sexism HAHA

[ao3-top-batfam-ships-bracket]

SLADICK PROPAGANDA YOU SAY?

Sladick is the ultimate I think I wanna fuck that old man ship. Slade is a silver fox and the best assassin in the world, and Dick is the hot young hero vowing to stop him. They are the most versatile ship, the two who genuinely should hate each other but can’t seem to stay away. They can do everything.

You want messy complicated personal relationships? Slade blames Dick for his oldest son’s death even though it was an accident and he was attacking them, and Slade wasn’t a very good father anyway. But then Dick gets to blame Slade for killing one of Dick’s best friends who is Slade’s other son, and was possessed and basically begged Slade to put him out of his misery!!! They both have grounds to want to kill the other but how can you kill someone who loved and was loved by the person you love???? Dick literally starts a fight with Slade blaming him for Joey’s dead, Slade yells back that he loved Joey too and THROWS DICK INTO A CAR, and then goes u ok??? Did you hurt your back?? 🥺

But!! If you want something more flirtatious and fun, they also grow to respect each other and have a soft spot for each other. Once, Slade gets hired to kill Dick’s friend, so Dick goes up and offers him the same money, PLUS 50 CENTS, not to kill her. And Slade, the #1 mercenary in the world who never breaks his contracts, accepts the deal!!!! Basically Dick’s sugar daddy in that scene i s2g

One time, Slade told Dick to “prove” he’s a bad guy now (long story) by training Slade’s daughter in villainy. Dick spends all this time playing family with Slade and his teenager, and then breaks up the family in a super dramatic way by driving the daughter away towards being a hero. So Slade DROPS A NUKE ON DICK. Did someone ask for toxic yaoi???

Just in 2022, we got Slade (possessed by a bigger, darker bad), launching a war on the entire world. Dick beats him in a fight, but turns around to realize that all his friends are in bad positions; he asks Slade what it would take to save everyone else, and Slade letting Slade kill him. WHY? BECAUSE “YOU WERE ALWAYS THE TROPHY, GRAYSON. WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME ON ANYONE ELSE?” The ultimate enemies to lovers. That is a quote from a real comic page published on paper by DC Comics.

They even take the cake in any AU; bad guys win? Slade is gonna be the guy who saves Dick’s life, even when Dick might not want to be saved. Royalty in warring nations? Dick is the political hostage getting traded to save his nation. HS AU? Slade is the football coach trying to force gymnast Dick onto the team. I haven’t even touched on non canon stories like tt03!! Or Titans (2018 TV)!!! THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.

You're so right anon, thank you for submitting the propaganda.

[gardenofnoah]

turn me like a beast / hold you to the floor

tags: nanami kento x reader, princess!reader, violence, injuries (minor), non-graphic descriptions of hunting, medium burn, sort of enemies to lovers but mostly scared strangers to unfortunate lovers, the fall of a dynasty, character death (sorry), reincarnation, bittersweet ending. mdni.

wc: 6.5k ish

notes: for @medusashima’s collab—indulging myself (and y’all) in my take on one of my favorite stories. i hope you like it 💘 this is based on the tale of the two fossils found wrapped up in each other in an unlikely pairing (which is made even better by the fact that it is not fiction and it happened!! love is real nerd!!). there’s a really phenomenal webtoon called burrow (by saige9) that makes me cry and that y’all should read immediately. anyway, enjoy. love u

summary: the world is at its end, and an unlikely pair finds solace in each other. to love is an animal thing.

it shocks you, how gentle a tug it takes to unravel everything that you were. only a thing between two others—before: a princess on a hill, the unraveling, and who you’ll be after.

your feet stomp clumsily over dirt and jagged rock—softened soles split open easily with each stride. but, ever your grandmother's frightened little rabbit, not even that searing pain is enough to thwart you in your descent down the hill—away from what is surely certain death. nothing but the animal need to survive pushing you forward—to get to whatever comes next.

it happened too fast—the only way a dynasty can fall to those privileged enough not to notice the slow decline of the society around them until it's too late. your family spoke of pockets of uprisings as if they were fictitious and theoretical—some grandiose, far away prediction of the old crone that haunted the village below your compound, and certainly not the men concealed by shade of trees that had been pruned by your family for centuries, salivating but patient for the perfect moment to strike.

and then they were dead. all of them but you.

a childhood of exploring the grounds of your family home proves useful in knowing without much thought which paths lead farthest from the carnage at your back, but your fright makes you uncoordinated—mechanical in your stride. the price to stop for even a second is far too high, and the hounds that howl after you in the dark serve as a constant reminder of the consequence of hesitation. so, bruised and bleeding, you keep on.

you run until your lungs threaten to collapse and then on farther. your feet carry you through unfamiliar wood, but in your rush, your brain rationalizes that the repercussions of trespassing cannot be much worse than what's behind you. and that seems to be the truth—right up until the real consequence drops out of the tree above you and pins you to the earth below, a blade to your throat.

gritted teeth snap too close to your face. you hear a deep voice—maybe a deeper threat, something to raise the hair on the back of your neck if you could only focus on the words. the world spins and your mind struggles to make sense of the sudden stop in motion, but something far more animal inside you decides that it's had enough. against any remaining survival instinct, you feel all tension bleed from your body—the stranger's face comes into clearer view right as you go limp underneath him. resignation wins out—your limbs wouldn't move if you pleaded with them to.

blond eyebrows meet hairline as your attacker is caught off guard by your forfeiture. "what are you—"

once distant howls growing nearer cut him off. he looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed at something he cannot yet see. you watch from outside yourself as he turns back toward you. dark eyes meet your own and you see the decision make itself—in one instant you are free of his bodyweight, and in the next you are weightless as he hauls you over his shoulder.

he makes it no more than 10 feet down the path before the last bit of adrenaline leaves you and is replaced by a sudden, blinding pain with no identifiable source. you feel it everywhere—all of the seemingly inconsequential injuries catching up with you now that you've stopped moving. the receding tree line is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

.

..

the warmth that surrounds you is decadent. you curl into it, reluctant to break the spell of sleep. but then you remember.

you shoot upright, sending at least three layers of blankets rolling off of you. you pinch the fabric of the top one between your fingers—alpaca. not native, but farmed here over the last century or so. you know (and had been told) that it was unbecoming of a princess to hold so much commonplace knowledge. but then again, status matters little now, and this blanket is soft. you're grateful to know the beast it was made from.

it hurts, but you coax your head into swiveling around to survey your surroundings, surprised when you find that it's very clearly someone's home. it's old—some of the wooden boards that line the walls have started to bow against the nails that drove them into the framework of the house, and daylight peaks through the cracks. the bed you rest in can barely be called that—an old futon cushion atop bundles of straw. but it's warm, and you slept. someone has been taking care of you. the thought is sobering; the anxiety that comes with it is enough to hold you to the bed for the foreseeable future.

but your stomach growls, and the bodily betrayal forces you to move. you do it slowly, kicking both feet out from under the blankets. to see them bandaged is startlingly unexpected.

your memories until now are fuzzy at best, but the last thing you distinctly recall is the feeling of sharpened metal biting into your skin. there are few ways you can fathom connecting the dots from that moment to this—swaddled in blankets with your wounds tended to. it leaves you on edge.

on two feet, you sway a bit—the hunger feeds the vertigo that spins the surroundings in your peripheral. one hand braced on the bed now behind you, you blink until things settle. you take a step forward, and the pain is shocking—your feet are clearly more injured than they'd felt at the time, but there is only one way out of this room. you press on.

the heavy wooden door opens into a one room cottage. it's old, and not in the well-loved and well-lived way—the dilapidated structure and lack of any real homely qualities tells you immediately that it's current inhabitant is more of a recent opportunist than a longtime homemaker. that distinction mattered little now, though, and you suppose you should be grateful for your stranger's resourcefulness.

you creep further into the room without a sound until you find yourself in the middle of it. crouched and defensive, until the realization hits you—you see all four walls and are perplexed to find that you are completely alone.

the room is little more than a crooked wooden table and a futon pad on the floor. there are remnants of a fireplace in the center of the room—mortar and brick crumbling up wooden slats toward the roof, but still useful with still-burning embers inside. truly, it's more primitive than livable—there are weapons and tools strung up along the wooden panels of the walls, and animal hides hang in any space between metal and wood. but it's warm, and it's a reminder of what is at stake. what should spur anxiety brings only confusion—when cost of survival is so high, why add another body to the burden?

you forget yourself until the heavy fall of footsteps outside the door reignites your adrenaline. you watch, wide eyed and frozen, as the door picks a fight with whoever is on the other side of it. a weight smacks solidly into it once, twice, and a third time before it opens with a heavy groan. in the daylight, your captor is revealed to you.

hard eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, and then narrow in suspicion. you're still as he takes in all of you, and suddenly very aware of the nightgown you escaped your home in, still hanging off your body. you fight the urge to withdraw into yourself—you know it’s not the time to cower.

he eyes you for a moment more, and then drops a heavy pack on the floor next to him, and busies himself with unloading. you watch as he pulls out tools that look unfamiliar to you—though you suppose any tool would. it's not as if you or your family ever had a need for them.

you watch him work and are surprised to find that he's...handsome. jaw set at a hard angle with scars that wrap around the slope of one side, he's rugged in a way you'd never been taught to find appealing. he is unlike the men that sought after your hand with promises of riches and comfortable living. he is unlike anyone you've seen before, truthfully.

"um—"

"is there something you need?"

his coldness stuns you for a moment. you're not sure what you were expecting—you'd no real reason to anticipate any kindness from the man, but the care by which your feet were wrapped had led your mind in that foolish direction anyway.

you fight the urge to draw your limbs into yourself like a startled turtle. "oh—i just. wanted to thank you, i suppose. for helping me."

he looks up from his sorting to meet your eyes, and the disdain in them feels like a physical wound. he drops the tool in his hand with a sharp thud against the floor, and it makes you jump.

"once you've healed, you will leave."

you exhale sharply. it makes sense, of course—it is no small ask of him to allow you to stay even until you're healed. even so, the reality of the world that awaits you carries a weight to it—it lurks around the periphery of the tiny cabin, waiting for you to poke your head out.

then comes the loss—the blood that still stains your fingertips and the hem of your nightgown. you bow your head—out of shame or grief, you're not sure—and turn on your heel, right back into the room you came from. you shut the door behind you quietly, and you don't make it to the bed. you sink to your haunches and gravity pins you there, head in hands as your mind reintroduces you to each of the ghosts that now have a tight grip on both your ankles.

.

..

it's dark when you emerge, once again driven by hunger or thirst, or some other base need to stay alive despite every glaring sign not to.

you commit yourself to stealth—to staying out of your stranger's way, as much as you can before you take your leave. the dark of the cabin hides you in your trek out of your hiding place—unfortunately, it also hides the solid object on the floor, laid directly in front of your door. your foot catches it and it clangs, the metallic echo ringing in your ears.

you curse under your breath, bending down to feel around in the blackness for whatever you hit. you startle when your fingers hit something unexpectedly soft. you squint, and suck in a breath when you realize what you're holding—a piece of bread. rather, half of a loaf, with a cut of meat nearby, on the metal plate that you’d kicked. you blink, like if you do it enough, the mirage will dissipate and leave only dark wood behind. but it doesn't—the bread gives some as your fingers squeeze around it as if to test it's trustworthiness. you decide to stop looking the gift horse in its mouth, and recede back the dark of your room, food in hand.

.

..

oddly enough, it becomes a regular occurrence. you grow accustomed to expecting a plate of food by your door every night—a seemingly ironic luxury, given your reality now. you hardly see your stranger—you've no idea when he has the opportunity to leave food by your door unnoticed, give his penchant for absence. puzzling still is that the food you're given varies, as if he intends for you to have a fully balanced diet in the middle of a societal collapse.

he doesn’t stop at the food, either—after a few nights spent in your room, he makes his first real appearance in the daylight. a knock at your door rouses you from what’s become a habit of mid-afternoon naps, in lieu of staring at the splintered walls of what was quickly beginning to feel like a cage instead of a place of healing. you pull the door open to find your stranger towering over you—leering down at you with the same discontent he had before. only now, he holds something in his hands, and extends them to you.

“there’s a stream at the edge of the boundary.”

he thrusts what’s in his hands to yours, and you realize that it’s clothing—not in the best shape, but certainly better than the blood-crusted nightgown you still wear. he says no more, and for once you’re grateful for his curt demeanor. he turns on his heel and stalks out of the cabin, back to whatever the outside world has to offer him. after a moment, you follow his path, for the first time since you’d arrived.

it stuns you for a moment, how sinister the land looked in the dark, and how different it looks now. the sun shines hot down on the wheatgrass that sways gently in the breeze. it picks up a lock of your hair and you feel lighter with it.

you walk where you assume you should—down a thinly-worn path between the grass. you find it eventually: a small stream, just wide and deep enough for you to bathe in if you crouch. you turn your head to each side, squinting in your search for prying eyes—you find no one, but it’s still wholly uncomfortable to undress in the open like this.

your reservations leave you the minute you step into the water. warmed by the sun with a sweeping current, you let out a guttural moan that would’ve certainly earned you a chastising from your grandmother for its crudeness. you can’t help it—the caked on dirt and grime dissolves under your fingers and leaves you feeling better than you ever have. there is a slight sting in the soles of your feet—that it is slight is surprising to you, and a harrowing reminder of the clock that continues to tick out of your favor.

.

..

days bleed into weeks. your feet heal earlier than you expect them too, and the guilt you carry is worse than the wound. you know you’ve reached the end of your stay, but you can’t get yourself to leave. not when your stranger still insists on taking care of you. the anticipation is sickening—instead of sitting and waiting to be shooed away, you decide to earn your stay. hard work for someone who’d never worked a day, but the determination proves stronger than the fatigue.

you clean. it’s the only thing you can think to do, and truthfully, it’s necessary. you haul water in old containers on your shoulder from the stream, and you wash the dust away until the floors shine and the windows are clear again. you do this everyday—finding something to clean and fixating on it until the sun reaches the other side of the horizon. today is no different—you set your sights on the ash in the fireplace, using a metal pan to scoop it into a stray tarp to carry outside when you’re done.

you’re almost finished when you hear the now familiar sound of boots scraping the stone outside. you tense, but you don’t stop, pulling another pile of stale smelling soot onto the tarp as your stranger opens the door. you hear him stop behind you, but you don’t turn.

“what are you doing?” the tone is not as harsh as you’re used to—a little fatigued, mostly inquisitive.

“cleaning,” you say softly, pulling up at each corner of the canvas and watching the ash collide into neat little heaps in the center, “i’m almost done—i’ll be out of your way.”

you get to your feet, discard in hand, and turn to look at him. his strong brow furrows as he looks at you, like there’s something about what he sees that he can’t understand. against your best interest, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“i’m sorry, it’s just—i never learned your name.”

the look he levels you with makes you wish you’d never asked. his expression gives away nothing, but it tells you enough.

“how are your feet?”

your stomach drops—all of your attempts at earning your place for naught after all. but you stand in front of him now—to lie to him would be foolish at best.

you can barely raise your voice above a whisper. “healed.”

he studies you for a moment more, and it’s too much for you. your eyes fall to a crack in the floor, and distantly you wish you’d shrink down to slip inside of it, never to be seen again.

“tomorrow i will show you how to trap.” he gruffs, finality lacing his tone. your eyes snap to his but he’s already turning, half way out the door before he stops. he turns his head, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“kento,” he mutters, barely audible and strange meeting your ears, “my name is kento.”

and then he’s gone again—leaving you standing there with a hand full of dirt and no way to discern your left from right as your world tilts on its axis, if only slightly—but noticeable and disruptive all the same.

.

..

you don’t sleep well that night—startled out of a twilight sleep in what appears to be the dark hours of the morning by the rapping of knuckles on your door. kento nods to you in a greeting of his own, turning swiftly on his heel and heading toward the front door. you follow him dutifully, pulling over your shoulders the blanket you’d snagged before you left the warmth of your bed for the chill of the morning. the grass is cool and dewey under your bare feet, and it’s a quiet luxury you find yourself reveling in as you pad along behind him. you can hardly see him in the dark and yet you keep up, somehow—you know there’s too much at stake to lag behind.

true to his word, he teaches you how to trap. solely by doing—few words are exchanged between you as he trudges into the stream and hauls out a weaved basket attached to a rope, fastened to the shoreline by a stray branch. the light that creeps over the horizon begins to illuminate his work—silvery tails gleam as they flick back and forth from inside the cage. you know better than to be sad, but you feel it anyway. it’s silly to feel a kinship with the creatures, not even sentient enough to know that there is no escape for them—but you know, and the weight of that is a tangible thing.

he teaches you how to prepare the fish, then—and you get through it, if not only through sheer determination to not throw up in front of kento. the sun rises and illuminates other opportunities to learn—he teaches you about the native plants, only in simple directions of pointing to a patch of green with an accompanied “don’t touch”, or “fine to eat”. it’d feel patronizing if it wasn’t all so overwhelming—he had a knowledge of things you’d never dreamed of before. all you can feel is excitement that he’s willing to share it with you.

as the sun begins to set, he brings you to the garden—a small patch of land, seemingly unassuming until you step inside. there are fruiting plants everywhere you look—fat, red tomatoes and vining, prickly cucumbers, complete with rows of leafy greens and cabbages. you can’t begin to imagine how he’d managed to grow all of this by himself. his nightly food gifts start to make more sense.

you work side by side, pulling ripe crop from each plant and placing them into a metal canister—usually used for mechanical purposes, but at the end of the world, you find many uses for what you have. you feel emboldened somehow with your hands in the dirt next to his, and the words leave you before you have a moment to reconsider; you tell him of where you’d come from, and of your descent down the hill. you think of the kin you’d left behind, and you feel detached as you tell him of the loss—an observation if nothing else, as if you’d sat on a shoreline and watched the tide flood in.

he doesn’t react—not to your noble status, and not to the death—he’s quiet as he moves on to each plant, only the pattering sound of what he harvests hitting the tin bottom of his canister. you don’t mind—there’s no reaction you’d expect or find helpful, and for some reason, his presence is enough. you find it odd that weeks ago his footsteps incited real fear in your veins, and now he’d spent the day teaching you new ways to be useful. it was a strange and intimate gratitude, but one you felt nonetheless.

you find you see him more now, with your newfound ability to contribute and the determination to do just that. days are spent hauling fresh catches out of the stream, and hunting down small mammals to supplement your diet. you watch him closely—the flex and twist of his torso with the pull of the bow, the way he narrows his focus to the fluffy little thing that scurries among the leaves. with the twitch of a finger, the arrow flies toward its target—there is a screech, and then a sobering quiet. for the first time in your life, you pray—quietly, for the creature with the same instinct to survive that drives you to take its life.

“here,” kento says, handing the bow to you, “try it.”

you wrap your fingers around the wood and do as he asks. it’s deceptively heavy—the tension of the bow makes it nearly impossible to draw back with your own strength. focused and determined not to fail in front of him, you nearly jump out of your skin when his hands cover your own.

“there’s no trick to it,” his voice is gruff but gentle and far closer to you than he’s ever been, “just pull back, like this.”

he guides your hand backward with his own and the tail of the arrow follows—at your back, you feel the muscles in his chest ripple with the effort.

“focus,” he breathes, and you fight a shudder at his proximity, “listen.”

and it’s hard to hear anything over the roar of blood in your ears, but you try, blinking in an effort to snap out of whatever trance kento has put you in. it takes a moment, but then you hear it—the crinkle of leaves beneath tiny paws.

“take a deep breath.” kento allows you to move the bow where you want to, and you try to focus your aim. a bushy tail flicks up behind the underbrush—you train the point of the arrow right below it. your heart thuds wildly in your chest, and suddenly you’re worried that the bow might slide out of your sweating palms, impaling you instead.

“let it go.”

you do as he says, and the ringing in your ears drowns out the sounds of short-lived suffering. he lets go of you then—you don’t notice he’s come to stand in front of you until you feel the rough pad of his thumb swipe gently across your cheek. you blink, your own fingers reaching up to find tears you don’t recall ever shedding. your eyes meet his, and they burn with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. but he’s not angry—you feel no compulsion to apologize for whatever is happening to you. he takes the bow from your hands, and slings it over his back.

“we’ll go back now,” he says quietly. you follow him up the path, and the tears don’t stop until you reach the cabin. you wonder who exactly it is that you’re crying for.

.

..

you don’t know what it is about the nights that follow that lead kento to decide to stick around, but there’s a part of you that’s glad he does. above all else, you knew better than to question it. he doesn’t say much—he never does—but you’re more than happy to fill the silence. you suppose you owe him the opportunity to know you, after all he’s done for you—you’ve no idea how to quantify the gratitude you’ve felt over the last few months. you do what you can.

“there’s a story my grandmother used to tell,” you murmur, eyes to the fire that crackles in front of you, “i used to sit at her feet while she brushed my hair. she only ever told it to me—it was like a secret between us.”

the wood pops and spits an ember at your feet. you watch it blaze bright, the tiny thing—one last attempt to catch before it snuffs itself out. “there was a princess that lived high in a tower built to protect her from the bandits of the neighboring empire. she was only ever allowed to walk the grounds of the palace under the safety of a full moon. one night, as she crept out of the tower under the cover of the dark, she’s lured into the dark forest by a witch. she promises to grant the princess any wish, for a price.”

your eyes catch kento’s, and for once, his expression is not indifferent. he is here with you in this moment, and it warms you more than the flame. “of course she wishes to be free,” you continue, waving a hand at its inevitability, “and the witch turns her into a hare. and in the original story, that’s the end of it. there’s a lesson there, right?”

“but in my grandmother’s story, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to the princess. she’s free to hop around to her heart’s content. all she does is eat greenery and lay fat in her den until she dies a natural death after a long and happy life.”

you hear what you think is a scoff from the man next to you. your eyes roam kento’s face, and you think there might even be a hint of a smirk there. it thrills you.

“the tale of an optimist,” he offers quietly, and it’s not bitter.

“she was,” you murmur, “until the end, she was an optimist.”

it’s quiet between you for a moment, save for the crackle of the fire.

“i’m sorry you lost her.”

you smile, and it hurts. the tears well up before you can stop them.

“it’s unfair,” you croak, despite yourself. you’d done well to put up a good front in front of kento—humbling, to see how quickly it could be undone.

you startle when you feel a warm palm close around your clenched fist. “it is unfair,” he says, eyes meeting yours.

the warmth is profound, again despite the fire that heats your cheeks. you find yourself leaning into it until you’ve tucked yourself under his arm. he’s tense, but allows it.

“tell me something about you,” you whisper thickly, needing to think of anything else. he hums, tipping his head back. you sneak a glimpse of the curve of his jaw, glowing between shadows cast by a flickering flame. scar tissue curves and shimmers as it tenses.

“we were a group,” he murmurs, still looking up at the old, wooden boards, “myself and some of the neighbor children. there were no family units, there— we created our own.”

you’re so quiet you think you can nearly hear him piece together the memory in his mind. you know he’s gifting you something precious, so you don’t dare speak.

“we were too young to be running around alone, but there was nowhere to go. we knew enough to dodge the militias that would burn through each village. we thought we did, anyway.”

“the elders were kind. they brought in as many of us as they could on nights when the trucks would come down the road. but we didn’t have parents or homes, and they couldn’t take in all of us.” he pauses, sucking in a long breath. it shifts you when his chest expands. “i was small enough that i was able to fit through a hole in the crawl space under a home. Yu tried, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“he was my best friend.” kento’s voice is quiet, and more fatigued than you’ve ever heard it. it’s unnerving, seeing his humanity laid out so plainly. “he tried to run, but they caught up just as quickly. they would’ve just taken him to a work camp, but he put up a fight.” he says it with a small smile, like he’s proud. “they shot him and left him there to die.”

if there was a way you could be closer to kento, you’d have found it by now, but you find yourself trying to sneak up under his ribs anyway. trying to find a way to siphon his pain into yourself, if only for a moment.

“you were brave,” you whisper, having nothing else to say except for that—for what feels obvious and true. he scoffs, but you can hear the grief behind it.

“maybe,” he says, arm tightening around your shoulders, “i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way.”

you hum, a low and sympathetic thing, fighting the urge to nuzzle into his chest. it’s strange, how easy it is to default to such animal inclinations when there’s no need to abide by arbitrary customs. there is only the two of you here, and the urge to comfort kento is strong.

“will you let me do something?”

he glances down at you out of the corner of his eyes—narrowed in distrust, despite baring his most tender bits to you only a moment ago. you push past it.

“here,” you say, sitting up and out from under his hold, “sit here.”

“on the ground?” he’s not so much incredulous as he is confused—and you’ll take what you can get. you nod, an appeasing sort of grin teasing the corners of your mouth.

his eyes are still narrowed when he goes—crouched in defense like you wait with bared teeth instead of open arms. still, he moves to sit before you—facing you. you laugh a little, endeared.

“i meant for you to turn—“

“no.”

you’re snapped back to reality then—to the present moment, with this man that kindly took you in but does not trust you. you take in a slow breath, careful not to flinch under the weight of his stare.

“okay,” you murmur, reaching up to pull free from your hair the comb that tethers it in its knot, “that’s okay.”

your hair slips down over your nape as you pull the teeth of it free—hard and familiar in your fingers, you offer it to him like one would a scrap of food to a feral dog. an heirloom made of deer bone—your family’s own commitment to using all that you were given, even if it was in excess. a reminder of a luxury that never felt like one until now.

“is it okay?” you ask, pulling up on your own bravery to keep his stare. after a long moment of careful deliberation, he nods tersely.

you lean forward slightly, careful of his space, and let him see the comb as you reach up. he jumps when the dulled prongs meet his scalp, but you stay the course. you pull it through the blond strands—longer than they were when you first met, the dulled ends slipping through with each pass.

you sit back to look at him after a moment. there’s no resistance, nor is there any enthusiasm—but you trust that he’d stop you if he was uncomfortable, so you keep going.

you lose yourself in the task, pulling (or pushing, from where you sit in front of him) the carved bone through his hair. you allow him the privacy of a reaction—eyes focused only on the strands that flit away from the teeth of the comb.

so focused, it seems, that you have to suppress the jerk of your leg when he leans up against it. the quick glimpse you allow yourself gores you—his eyes now closed, head cushioned by the soft of your thigh. looking more childlike than you’ve ever seen him in the months you’ve spent every minute with him. you see flashes of him as a boy—small and without scarring or a reason for haunches to raise in fear or rage. you think of him laughing—rolling in mud and being scolded by an otherwise kind woman instead of squeezing his way through jagged, wooden boards to save his life. never knowing the sound of a shot ringing out in the street.

you tuck your face into your shoulder—determined to hide the tears and your grief on his behalf. determined to let him feel this, whatever it is, and be a safe place for him to do it. to be the strong arm and the kind hand for him now—the one he can give his precious trust to.

the fire crackles and the mourning is heavy in the air—but kento is alive beneath your fingers, and your own heart beat is a heavy and reassuring thud inside your chest.

.

..

he is a rose in bloom, in the nights that follow. tightly coiled and still with all of his thorns, but in bloom nonetheless.

he becomes something of your shadow. where he lingered out of distrust he now hovers with intent—comically so, his large body folding itself in the small confines of the makeshift kitchen while you wring out linens in the sink. it’s clear that something has shifted between you—though what, you’re unsure. your mind tells you he is finally coming around to you. your heart yearns for something more than just his trust, though you are not unaffected by the weight of that trust alone.

he is never more than an arm’s length away. he leaves in the darkened hours of the morning to hunt, and is somehow back before the sun rises to wake you. that was another shift—he hadn’t asked you to join him on a hunt since that night. he hadn’t asked you for anything after that, really. he sleeps nearer, too—you’d been under the impression that he’d been sleeping outside until he wound up at the foot of your bed, sleeping still like a guard dog. you didn’t have the heart to ask him about it—you just left the candle burning and turned away from the door. he was owed privacy in his vulnerability, and you give him that.

and however hard to read the man may be, you feel some discontent at not pulling your weight, so you try your best to anyway. patching up holes in the wooden exterior of your home. sealing the windows with fur and fat to beat the chill of the creeping fall. you know that the garden tending is cyclical with the seasons—the cold calls for heartier vegetables. you pull and preen until your fingers swell, aching.

and there he would be—watching you, as always.

“hard work for a princess,” he mutters through something suspiciously similar to a smirk. you level him with a glare—the heat of which is immediately snuffed out in comparison to the heat of the cloth that he wraps around your wind-bitten hands. the heat of his body before yours is a close second to the warmest you've ever been despite all of the holes you'd still yet to patch.

“i hardly remember ever being one now,” you murmur, leaning into his side as his thumbs swipe over your palms—needle pinpricks left in their wake, even through the fabric.

he scoffs, his hands engulfing yours in his warmth. "are you not still?"

"i suppose, technically." you shrug, letting him crowd you over to the old, torn up futon that you'd been using as living room furniture. he'd been doing a lot of that lately—pushing you to relax. itching to take a weight from you. he arranges you to his liking, wrapping one of the woven blankets around your shoulders. "i was meant to be made into more than that, you know. before the uprising."

kento only raises an eyebrow at you. you shrug, past the point of shrinking from his silence. "my family had paid a sizeable dowry to have me married off. an heir in a neighboring village, supposedly. only my grandmother was against it, in her own, quiet way. she took to calling me her rabbit, after her story. she wanted differently for me."

there's no mistaking the way kento stiffens. there's no reason for it, nor is there a justification for the way you want to placate him. you do it anyway.

"maybe it's for the best," you say, waving your hand as if to dismiss the whole thing entirely, "i'm not exactly the noble type, now."

you watch him deflate. he nods sagely, the smirk pulling at his lips again. "surely you're the most frightening princess i've ever met."

you turn your head to watch him settle in next to you—another new behavior, seemingly unbothered by the proximity that he no doubt was unfamiliar with. "what's that supposed to mean?"

his teasing grin fades into something a little more forlorn. "when i found you, i expected you to be afraid. i wouldn't have harmed you—i only wanted to scare you off."

you huff. "that wasn't very nice."

"you weren't afraid though. it was unnerving."

"oh?" you grin, reaching to poke him in the ribs. "you were afraid of me?"

he reaches for your hand and pulls it to his lap. "i was sad for you. it wasn't a resilience—it felt as though you were broken."

it hurts, you decide, to be known like this. how simple things had been when he'd only left you provisions at your bedroom door and left you be. now you'd gone and allowed your heart to run freely ahead without a tether. you'd no way of preparing for the injury that freedom would cause.

"you pitied me," you mutter, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone. the mood shifts between you, and something inside you wants to resent him for it. how warm it had been inside the delusion—the world in which you both exist in this space as equals, brought together by fate and want and nothing else.

"no, not pity." you startle at the feeling of his fingertips as they brush a tendril of hair from your face. "you reminded me of myself. i didn't want you to be alone."

"why take on that burden?"

kento hums, pushing his fingers through the hair at your temple. despite yourself, you lean into the touch. "maybe i didn't want to be alone, either."

you blink, the sentiment working its way into your head. it lands significantly south—deep in your chest with an ache you can't describe. you reach for the wrist in your peripheral, stopping his movement and keeping him close. "is that all?"

"no." his admittance is a whispered, strained thing. you're close enough that to tilt your head back brings his jaw to your lips. the ghost of your breath along his skin makes him shudder, and you feel the fingers in your hair flex into a grip.

"what else, then?"

he ducks his chin to nose at your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, mind empty of all that swam around in it only a moment ago.

"my rabbit," his bottom lip brushes against your own, "what else is there but you?"

.

..

the weather changes and the gods grow restless.

you both feel it at the first chill of the year. there’s no graceful turn of the seasons—the air is bitter and cold, and you know something is coming. there’s little time for play, so on the last few warm evenings of fall, you take advantage of it. or you try to—you drag kento into the stream to soak in the dwindling rays of sun, but the knowledge of what is to come weighs heavily on you both. he holds you up in the current—body to body, only breathing. you can't get close enough—to reach inside him and carve out a space for yourself would still not sate the longing you feel.

that wretched something shows it’s face soon enough. the first snow is harsh, collecting in heavy banks against the roof of the house. the wood sags under the weight and the cold creeps in through the wood until the fire is no longer enough to warm the house in it's entirety—only the small space in front of the mantel that you crowd around. you and kento don’t talk much these days—to speak takes energy you don’t have to spare. he is doting as he always is—making sure you are covered in every layer of fabric and fur he can find, but something is wrong. you know the worst is yet to come. you feel it in the way kento holds you too close during the night; it’s never warm enough.

at first there is hope. kento has his food reserves and you'd preserved some of what you’d gathered. but a week of snow turns to two, and two weeks turn to two months. the rations get smaller and the two of you get hungrier. by the third month, you understand that you will not be spared the gods’ wrath. you see the punishment for what it is—a utilitarian consequence to all of the bloodshed by man. you do not have the energy to mull over the unfairness of that. even if you did, the gods do not concern themselves with what is fair—you know that now. the light inside you fades with every new inch of snowfall.

but kento is kind, despite your insistence that he be otherwise. he pulls from his own warmth to add to yours. your dinner portions are always bigger, even if it means he goes without eating entirely. it’s in vain, of course. neither of you will live through this. you scold him for pushing the last of his food on your plate and he doesn’t bother to respond. he only watches while you eat, like he can’t rest until he knows for sure that you have eaten all he has to offer you. you chew through tears and the only comfort is the hand that reaches to wipe them from your cheek. it’s a painful end, wasting away like this. watching kento fade away.

it's when you can smell death's approach that you know with certainty that your humanity has fled for a better place. the thing that remains in you—that keeps your heart beating, that coaxes your lungs to inflate—is purely animal. and it's out of that same primal need that you close the distance between kento's frail body and your own. in the silent chill of the night, the warmth between you may be merely a hallucination now, but you feel it all the same. there is no pain anymore. only a pull into a sleep you want so badly to slip into.

you don't cry—you use the last of the strength in your body to tuck yourself under kento's chin and curl around him in some intimate display of what exists between you. of what has existed this whole time.

"if this is the end," you murmur, knowing that it is, "i'm happy that i'll leave this world with you."

the knuckles that brush against your cheek are sharp and gnarled now. you've never known a touch so tender. it’s odd to speak—to shatter the intimacy of the silence that’s floated around the both of you for much of the last few weeks.

"do you know now?"

if you close your eyes, you can pretend that the man in your arms will live to see the morning. that this is merely pillow talk, and the sun will wake you with warmed skin in a few hours.

but you don't let yourself turn away. it's striking, how even with his last few breaths, kento manages to use them worrying about you. you wonder if he's done it the whole time. you do know; you realize with unmistakable clarity that you'd know his love anywhere, now. you nod, feeling his thready pulse against your forehead.

"i do. you'll have to forgive me for not seeing it sooner."

you feel him scoff—an inappropriate use of dwindling breath that makes you laugh, too. "there will be plenty of time to show you in the next life, my rabbit."

a brief bitterness curls up your spine—the unfairness of all of this creeping back up like a rising tide. how cruel it was to have settled on the loneliness of a life without love, just to be shown the magnitude of a life with it in the final months of your own.

but it recedes in the next moment, because there is no more time to grieve. you can only feel grateful, now—to leave this world saturated in all that kento has given you.

cracked lips brush the skin of your temple—he has no real energy for a proper kiss, but the desire to comfort is strong between you. you spend the next few, precious moments counting the breaths that rattle inside his chest, grateful for every one cycled through.

in the silent hours of a darker morning, there is a light only the two of you can see. shrouded in the glow, he is so beautiful.

with all of your strength, you call him by his name, one last time. "until next time, my love."

epilogue

if the notion of certainty is alive in anything, it is in the way that fable and folklore are sure to be born and born again out of gatherings of beings with mouths to speak it. one such example is the jagged, snow capped hills of Akaito—a new village comprised of all walks of life, the one commonality between them being their displacement during the fall of the Zaiaku dynasty almost one hundred years prior. built overtop the remnants of survivor settlements crushed under the Great Snow, all who inhabit the land know well of the blood that has stained the soil and pay mind to honor the loss of life in their own ways—namely in storytelling. this great coming together eventually gave way to a new mother tongue for the telling of a new bed time story to bleary eyed babes in the middle of the night: the tale of the Akaito lovers—the wolf and the hare.

as the story goes, villagers who have been bestowed some unearthly dose of luck by the gods may catch a glimpse of an unlikely pair—a formidable looking white wolf with scarring across its broad body, and its counterpart: a fluffy and downright regal grey hare. one might catch them romping around in the dusting after a fresh snow, or preening one another under a shaded tree in the heat of the summer. depending on who tells the tale, it might be the case that if a person is truly fortunate and determined to wait out the dark of night, they might even be gifted the sight of the duo curled around one another, sleeping peacefully in a protective and loving embrace under the light of a waning moon.

as with all fables, the story is altered with every new tongue that speaks it, and one day the tale will vanish from the minds of the younger generations completely. but for now, it is ripe in the minds of the young and old, the latter of which are very certain that it is no mere fable at all.

[cosmicjoke]

What Levi's Lack of Response to His Assault Tells Us:

Something else I want to talk about in "Bad Boy" is how Levi reacts to the treatment of the men who assault him, and what it tells us about him and his expectations for how he should or would be treated.

He doesn't cry, and he doesn't beg, and he doesn't expect anyone to help him.  He’s essentially non-reactive. 

Levi nearly gets beaten to death, and he's obviously in extraordinary pain, and he also gets threatened with sexual abuse, assault and kidnapping.  But he never really shows any fear, even as his face is twisted in agony and desperation, and he never really protests the treatment he's receiving, either through tears or pleading. He never shows any offense at how they speak to and about him. He never asks them to stop hurting him, and he never even tries to defend himself or get away. Even after being brutally beaten, kicked viciously in the chest/abdomen, he only tells the men to give his mother's tea set to him, that it belonged to her. He doesn't beg them to stop, or beg for mercy, or for his life, he simply keeps insisting that the set isn't theirs.

What this tells us about Levi is that he's used to this kind of treatment.

A child who wasn't used to being beaten or roughed up in this manner, or even threatened in this way, would with certainty cry and even fall into hysterics. They would scream and beg and cry for help. They would be sobbing. They would be terrified.

But Levi displays none of these behaviors. In fact, he even shows defiance in the face of their treatment, insisting they give him back what, by rights, belongs to him, and only fights back when they start speaking ill of his mother, something which highlights, once again, Levi's heartbreaking and inherent selflessness, that even then he felt others were worth fighting for, even as he felt no such inclination to fight for himself, something we see in him again and again throughout the main story. He did this knowing it was only going to result in him being hit again, knowing it was only going to result in him being more badly beaten.   He was willing to take that to defend his mother.

But again, Levi's lack of response, his lack of tears, lack of fear, lack of any attempt toward self-preservation, tells us that Levi is used to being smacked around and beaten up. That he's beaten almost to death, and he still doesn't show any fear or beg for mercy shows he's been raised to expect this kind of treatment, and that he's been raised to believe this is what the world is, and this is how people will treat you, that this is how he expects people to treat him.

It's pretty obvious to me from this that Kenny used to beat Levi, and that he let Levi get beaten by other men, probably in some twisted attempt to bring out Levi's power.

Further, the fact that Levi showed no, true initiative to fight for himself, despite the kind of treatment and threats he was being subjected to, shows that he didn't care if he lived or died, that he had no real regard for his own life, well-being or safety. It shows a breathtaking lack of self-worth. 

That’s what happens to a person who’s been repeatedly abused and exposed to deep trauma, physical, emotional, and mental, at the very least.

Further still, when Levi finally does fight back, his attack is completely ineffectual.  This shows us that, while Kenny taught Levi to fight, Levi himself showed no real ability, strength, talent for or natural inclination toward violence.  Despite Kenny’s lessons, Levi is still helpless, and even exceptionally so.  I’ve always thought if someone with a propensity for violence, like Eren, for example, had received the kind of training Levi did, he would have been deadly.  He was deadly, even without training, as we see with how he approaches Mikasa's kidnappers.  But we see here that Levi is completely at the mercy of these men, because, as I’ve said again and again, Levi isn’t naturally inclined toward violence.  I don’t think it comes naturally to him at all.  What this tells us is that, almost certainly, Levi was on the receiving end of many bad beatings without being able to actually defend himself, and doubtless all manner of other abuses.  And that would only have been worsened by what we see here in him, which is a total lack of will to live or sense of self-preservation. 

It isn’t even a will to live that makes Levi eventually kill these men.  It’s simply the awakening of his Ackerman powers, compelling him to act in defense of himself without thought, an instinct to survive sparked and driven by something outside himself. 

This story just continues to shatter my heart into pieces.

Levi really is a miracle of a man.  That he’s still so good, and so caring, and fights so hard for others, despite all of this… God, it’s truly devastatingly tragic. 

[gffa]

There's no way this isn't meant to be extremely explicitly clear, right?

That it's very much meant to be an extremely explicit parallel to the prequels' Jedi's situation? Because I'm not used to Star Wars tie in novels necessarily being coherent with themes and part of me is still kind of boggled that this is the fifth or sixth time I've run across a conversation that, were you to basically give it a palette swap (change the names of characters/planets/enemies etc.) you could have plucked it from a novel set during the prequels' Clone Wars... and that it's basically having the discussion about how there's really no right answer, only that the Jedi can the single choice that's in front of them directly. There's a lot going on in the scene that's influencing the way the characters are behaving--Cohmac is being written as increasingly unsure of himself and unsteady, and I know he's going to leave the Jedi Order at some point, and you can see it in the way the war against the Nihil has been unbalancing him, as well as Starlight Beacon is falling/about to fall and they're trying to decide what to do, what can they do, this is their family, their friends, their home that's being attacked by the Nihil, but there's nothing they can do that those Jedi aren't already doing, panicking about it is just giving in to fear, so instead:

And it's hard not to see the parallel to Order 66. To see the parallel between how Starlight Beacon was always going to be attacked, because the Jedi stood for justice and helping people who were being attacked and the Jedi Temple being attacked by the Sith because they would have fought back against an Empire oppressing people, because the Jedi stood for justice. It's hard not to see this as the High Republic Jedi being put in almost the exact same circumstances as the prequels Jedi, a situation with no real "right" answer, only "fight or innocent people will die, even as it crushes part of your own soul to be embroiled in a non-stop war", there's no easy or good answer here, there's no neat and pat way out of it, there's no hidden perfect path you could find if only you did this or that. It's hard not to read these books and feel like the High Republic Jedi (whom the creators have designed to be the Bestest Jedi Evar) are providing me everything I could have asked for (and have been saying for the last seven years) on why the Jedi joined the awful Clone Wars, not because it was right or good or perfect, but because it was the best choice they had, given the circumstances, to save people's lives. The Jedi are often accused of not evolving with a changing galaxy, but that's the thing--they did evolve to what the galaxy asked of them. The Separatists were bombing civilian populations, they were unleashing bio-chemical warfare on worlds, they were enslaving populations. The Jedi didn't want to fight a war, but when innocent lives were on the line (and they very much were), when they were the best choice to lead an army because their goal would be to save as many lives as possible, they chose to evolve into what the galaxy needed from them, while keeping as much of themselves intact as they could. They still went on meditative retreats, they still wore their own clothes, they still lived in their home, they still taught their philosophy to anyone who wanted to learn it, they still kept their compassion for people, they still made friends wherever they went... and the High Republic Jedi made the exact same choices. Because the galaxy had changed around them, it wasn't the one they knew from before, and they did their best to match what it needed from them, even when it made them become something that weighed on their souls.

[that-basic-simp]

Birthday Surprise

Junker Queen x Fem!Reader CW: N/A WC:1.1k+ A/N: Happy Birthday to our lovely Junker Queen!

"I really miss ya," I said to Odessa.

"I miss ya, too, princess," she said, getting settled in the chair. "Ugh, fuck."

I chuckled, "Still getting used to being there?"

"Yeah. I am not really used to all this tech stuff," she said, adjusting the camera. "Can ya still see me?"

"Yeah. But it's pointing at your chest. Move it up slightly."

She moved the camera up before letting it go, "Better?"

"Much."

She let out a sigh, running her hand through her mohawk, "I'm glad Overwatch was able to send ya some stuff so that we can continue to communicate."

"I am, too. At least I know you're alive after every mission."

"Yeah. I don't know what you'd be doin' if ya didn't hear from me almost every day."

"I know. But talking to one another like this just isn't the same," I said.

"I know, princess. I know. Hopefully one day I won't be needed and we can just talk and spend the day together. Even if it's over a video call like this."

"Yeah. But I really want to see you. To hold you."

"I know ya do, darlin'. Hopefully one day Overwatch will let me go just for a few days."

"I hope so, too."

"Queen, we've got to get going."

She let out a sigh, "I'll be there in a minute. Alright, duty calls, princess."

"Be careful out there. Take care of her, Kiriko."

"I will, Y/N."

"I love you, Dez."

"I love you, too, Y/N," she said and blew me a kiss. I blew her one back.

The camera cut out and the video call shut off. I leaned back against the throne and let out a sigh. It's been a few months since Odessa had to join Overwatch. And in those past few months, it was such an odd change I had to get used to. No longer waking up beside her and finding her amber eyes staring into mine. Eating alone and just walking around Junkertown felt weird without her being there. Leaning towards the computer Overwatch had given me to remain in contact with Odessa, I pulled up someone from the contact list. The profile picture popped up on the holographic screen and it started to ring.

"Hello!" a peppy voice came through.

"H-Hi. Is this Tracer?"

"You betcha! What can I do for you?"

"H-Hi."

"Hold on one second."

Her camera turned on and I was face to face with a woman with short brown hair and matching brown eyes. There were some freckles along the underneath of her eyes, similar to Odessa's, but hers were more prominent.

"There we go. Oh! I know you. You're Odessa's partner."

"Y-Yes, hi. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Anything we can do for you?"

"I was wondering if it was possible for me to come visit Odessa. She's been lonely up there and we both miss one another."

"Let's see something real quick," she grabbed a calendar, looking over some things. "This month is pretty busy for all of us here. We're needed in multiple areas of the world since Null Sector is non-stop attacking right now and we don't know how long missions are going to take. But aside from that, nothing seems to be going on that is deemed important enough to where she will be reported if she doesn't show. Uhm, I will have to get back to you, Y/N, if that's alright."

"That's completely fine," I said.

"I do have the contact for your phone it seems. So I'll message you whenever there is a slow with some of the fighting."

"Thank you, Tracer."

"You're welcome, Y/N. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No. Thank you again."

"Anytime. Take care now!"

"You too," I said and the call ended. I sighed once more, knowing I had to do more waiting until I got to see her. I just hoped it wouldn't be long.

A few more months had gone by and before I knew it, it was getting close to her birth month. It was going to be odd celebrating without Odessa, but that didn't stop me from getting her something in the hopes that I could see her. Or at least find a way to send it to Overwatch so she could receive it. While I was doing some work around the throne room, the phone Overwatch had given us went off. Leaning over to see who messaged, I immediately dropped what I was doing and opened up the message from Tracer.

"Hey, Y/N! A victory has been secured and the fighting has ceased for now. There will be some time for you to come and visit. Should I tell Odessa?"

"No. Please don't tell her. I want to surprise her."

"Sounds good! I have an idea on when we can surprise her!"

I stayed silent as I was hiding in a box. Tracer found a box big enough to where I can sit down and still have enough room to where I didn't feel cramped. She wrapped it up but left the flaps open. Once the position was set and everything, I got in and she closed the flaps. She wrapped a bow around the top and once the bow was unwrapped, that's when I'd pop out and surprise Odessa.

"What's this all about?" Odessa asked as I listened to her footsteps walking around.

"Someone informed me of a very special day for you," Tracer said. "This one is from all of us to you, Odessa."

"For me?" she asked, shocked that she was receiving something. "Ya didn't have to."

"We wanted to. We wanted to get you something that reminded you of home. We know how much you've missed being back in Junkertown."

"Ya have no idea," Odessa sighed.

"So we got you something special! Straight from Junkertown."

"Eh?" she asked, walking towards the box I was in.

"It's kinda big. Tell me ya didn't put a live dingo in 'ere. Then that'd be another problem on our hands aside from Null Sector and Talon."

"Open it," Tracer said.

There were more footsteps as I assumed everyone was nearby, waiting for Odessa to open up the box. She grabbed the bow and untied it. She was about to grab the box flaps, but I popped up.

"HOLY FUCK!" Odessa yelled, about to slap me. Her face went from terror to pure shock. "Y-Y/N?!"

"Surprise!" I smiled. "Happy Bir--"

I was immediately cut off as Odessa pulled me in for a much awaited kiss. I smiled against her lips and kissed her back. Pulling away, she kept pressing pecks to my lips before peppering my face with them.

"D-Dez!" I chuckled. "W-What about the others?"

"I don't care," she breathed out, pressing her forehead against mine. "I want to show you how much I've missed ya."

I jumped up and wrapped my arms and legs around her, hugging her tightly. She grabbed underneath my thighs and held me close.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

She pressed another kiss to my lips.

"Best gift ever."

"Ya haven't seen what I got ya."

"I'm sure I'll love it, princess. But gettin' to see ya. To hold ya. To kiss ya. Best thing ever since I came 'ere."

I chuckled and pressed my forehead against hers.

[horizon-verizon]

tbh there was no reason to say that alicent and haelena were beloved by the smallfolk. they're part in starting the war that put the smallfolk to their knees, it's more reasonable for them to be hated than loved

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Helaena's inactivity works well for her reputation (in-world and out) under the post-Fall of KL situation bc she's surrounded by more actively ruling women and actively ruling women are more under fire than those who ruler for a man, work behind the scenes, or directly rule. Since female rulership is not favored and even suspicious under Andal-Faith patriarchy.

Her own inactivity and the Faith-Andal social expectation of an ideal queen consort to be just a womb-for-heirs can do nothing to spoil the smallfolk's already favorable image/idea of her...bc she doesn't do anything that could affect said image.

Rhaenyra is the "bad guy" for the taxes and trying to rule; Helaena is the "good guy", for not ruling at all (and sitting there ready for symbolic use).

The whole point of GRRM writing about who was "loved" as a Queen and who wasn't was to point out how people in KL characterized a "good" Queen by her innocence, "sweetness" that is really their non-rulership and inactivity. Rhaenyra ruled obviously and directly, while Alicent ruled through others and for her sons in their absence while never having to really put down riots aside from the one she triggered by displaying a dragon's head through the streets. Alicent, unlike Rhaenyra, did not have to contend with rumors being spread about her specifically to destabilize her hand. Helaena didn't rule at all she was always just a consort who affected Aegon only once and that was accompanied by Alicent and other councilmen calming Aegon down when he wanted to imprison and kill Rhaenyra...nothing to do w/the smallfolk.

Yes, Helaena was a kinder, "gentler" person than those around her and even before the war she could have been loved for that....but she was also the most passive & accessory person than those around her and never effected any policies or laws, unlike Alysanne. Helaena never had be into a position as to decided what strategy or tactic to win smallfolk over or to support a city or defend against attackers to said city or to protect her family's image, prestige, etc. other than birthing and nurturing heirs. She never had to implement any unsavory taxes like Jaehaerys-Rego Draz or Rhaenyra-Bartimos or Rogar/Alyssa-Edwell or even just Alicent with her choice to drag around a dragon head. Or Dany with her opening the fighting pits to save her people, deciding not to kill her hostages, releasing a prisoner some of her council advised her not to, trying to get Drogo to stop the rape of Lhazarene women, etc. So of course she doesn't get any hate from anyone, much less the smallfolk who'd be most affected.

Remember that before the war, Rhaenyra's "Realm's Delight" moniker was also her image-advantaged(?) from the singers giving said name (bc child-Rhaenyra was seen as "delightful" at court where those singers are as they also were trying to gain favor from Viserys).

Likely, Viserys and his council used said moniker to their advantage and let their audience develop a stronger impression of Rhaenyra's overall loveliness. And not bc her child self--the precociousness, the beauty, etc.--wasn't real nor not bc she didn't grow up to be actually very beautiful, but bc it helped to bolster her image, this girl who would need a lot to supplement her newfound heirship since she was female.

Remember, too, how Daenaera Velaryon's childhood beauty was lauded and intertwined with her arrival to KL and the Maiden's Ball? Yeah.

It was worked with for Rhaenyra's later Riverland tour and worked to get the riverlords more on her side. this is the nature of the "two-faced coin" that F&B EXPLICITLY stated were of love and hate ("Rhaenyra Triumphant"):

The smallfolk did not know Helaena as subjects--esp peasants--can't personally know their leaders and their families. They love an idea of her; they hate an idea of Rhaenyra. And both images go through exchanges from the circumstances, not ONLY through the person's actions. And tbh and as the book tries to tell us, that is the best position a queen (consort) could have when she is surrounded by women (dowager, consort, regnant whatever) who take on a more active, male-conceived role in leadership.

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This is bigger than "who was the bitch-queen" or the "perfect queen"?...precisely bc there is no such thing as a "perfect" queen aside form the queen who does nothing at all but be a womb for heirs. And if she does do charities, it's not even guaranteed to be exclusively be for the smallfolk. Alysanne was genuinely loved as a queen bc everyone could see how she affected Jaehaerys, she used said influence to make better laws for smallfolk and it was very obvious and public CONSTANTLY, went--by herself--to create women's courts, AND was she visually pretty. Helaena does not have such influence nor initiative; so the love for her cannot be from anything she did but what she stands for in the memory of the smallfolk.

This has interesting commentary and scenarios of what queenship means and how quickly the "coin" of favor of the public--noble or smallfolk, but esp the smallfolk--can turn! And it turns for the smallfolk depending on the immediate results of a leader's actions or to contrast an imagined/real "better" past against the reality under the current leader (Aerys II vs post-Robert's death).

Even way before this, we constantly hear from Jaehaerys I's early reign about "words are wind" and words vs action...let's piece things together, people!