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#both of them being the cause of these deaths but not exactly responsible for them

elisysd · 1 day

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12. Don't give me up, cause what about, what about angels

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: What About Angels - Birdy

Charles saw you tensing after your mother’s cold greeting. He hated how you flinched as she was reminding you that being late was disrespectful towards your dad’s special day, that being away from home and in a big city had made you lose sight of the values they had taught you. But he hated even more how you simply smiled and apologized. He needed all his self control to not take your side, he knew how anxious this whole situation was making you feel, he didn’t want to make it worse by saying something he knew wouldn’t be well received.

The first thing he noticed in the house’s hall was the amount of family pictures, but instead of four people on them were only three. He recognised your mom, assumed the man beside her was your dad and when he thought he would notice you, it was instead your little brother. He couldn't be wrong, he looked exactly like you. The pictures were cut in a certain way that didn’t take him a long time to understand that you had been cut out of them. He felt a wave of rage hitting him. Why make you come here if your parents had gone to such an extent as to erase every trace of your existence? It was a twisted joke.

“You don’t even call anymore, Y/N. I knew it would happen, I’ve always said that being in a world full of sparks and empty promises would change you. You’re too gullible. You don’t even have time for your own family anymore. Not that you ever had.”

“You’ve never tried to ask questions about my job…” you mumbled as Charles put a comforting hand on your hip.

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you do, you’re the talk of the town. The small town girl made it to the TV. There is no reason to be proud, playing a pretty face on tv… that is not what I raised you to be. And now you’re associating yourself with fair-weather friends…” she said, darting judgmental eyes on Charles. “I know exactly who you are.”

He didn’t have the time to reply as your dad entered the room and sat on the chair without a word. You sat too, Charles close to you as your mom joined your dad’s side.

“How nice it is to finally see you alive.” he said, making you gulp.

“I’m Charles, your daughter’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” he introduced himself in a desperate attempt to drive the conversation away from you and the relieved sigh you let out made him think that you appreciated it.

Lunch was awkward, punctuated with snarky comments here and there that you tried your best to ignore. Charles was trying to do the same but it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his calm. But it was when cake was brought that resentment and unspoken words finally came out in the open. You had taken your phone out of your pocket, wanting to show your parents all the beautiful landscapes you had the chance to witness.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” your mom muttered.

“Why?” you turned your head to look at her in disbelief.

“Ashamed of following the sport that killed your brother. Ashamed of being with the man responsible for his death.” she sternly said.

You felt like a million daggers stabbing your heart all at once. You took a deep breath, putting your hand on his thigh, squeezing it lightly to indicate to him not to react. It was something you had to do alone.

“F1 and Charles didn’t kill Luc, it was his leukemia, not anything else.” you replied, feeling a lump in your throat.

“If you had not introduced your brother to that stupid sport, he wouldn’t have been a fan and his illness wouldn't have turned that bad so quickly. He wasn’t talking about anything else than that sport and you. Until his very last breath. His last words were about Formula 1. It took my baby away from me and this is your fault. Both of you.” she finished, turning to Charles this time.

“If I can add something… I know I have no right to comment on this situation but even if I understand your pain, Y/N is not the one to blame. She…” Charles started, quickly shutted up by your dad.

“You’re right, you have no right to say a thing. You don’t know what it is like to lose a son.”

“Maybe I don’t, yeah. But I know exactly what it feels like to lose a parent. I understand your pain. Truly. But with all due respect, you’ve already lost a son, you should be more careful to not lose a daughter by pushing her away and making her feel like a stranger in her own family.”

“We’ve already lost her the minute she decided to not show up at the funeral.” your mom spitted, making you close your eyes, trying to not cry. You wouldn’t give that pleasure to your parents.

“I think it’s best if we leave. It was a bad idea to come here, anyway.” you ended up saying, standing up, Charles following you. “You shouldn’t have invited me in the first place, if it was to treat me that way.”

You took Charles’ hand in yours and dragged him out of what had been once your safe place. Without a word you made your way to his car and rushed inside and it was only when the door was closed and that he had taken place behind the wheel that you broke down. He didn’t hesitate to pull you on his lap and let you cry on his shoulder, holding you tight.

“It’s okay, babe… you’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel bad, you have nothing to feel bad about. If you were believing your mom’s lies, I understand why you were so mean to me at the beginning now.”

“She is not entirely wrong, you know.” you sniffed in his neck. “At least about one thing, I should’ve been there for Luc’s funeral. But it was too hard for me. I didn’t want to face the fact that I would never see him again. I didn’t want to make the nightmare I was in real. because if I was going, it would happen exactly that. It would have made the pain real and permanent. I couldn’t.”

You put your forehead against his, trying to find a way to ground you. Charles drew small patterns on your hips, comforting you the best he could.

“Let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he whispered against your ear.

You got out of the car and hand in hand you started to wander the streets of your childhood, telling him anecdotes and facts of any buildings and streets you were walking on and seeing.

“Tell me about Luc.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Whatever you want. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.”

“He was passionate. About many things. History and art mostly. He wanted to work in a museum. And passionate about F1 of course. He knew a lot of mechanical stuff, more than I did. He taught me as much as I did, I swear. Maybe more. I was spending my weekends at the hospital with him to watch the races. When he was hospitalized, it was what kept him going. It was our thing, you know. Wait, I think I have a picture to show you.”

She took a photo out of her wallet and gave it to him. If he didn’t know it was a hospital room, he would have had a hard time guessing it. Everywhere were Ferrari and monegasque flags as well as a lot of merch. He was recognising one of his caps on the bedside table. Posters of his podiums were hung on the walls, his Monza’s win right above Luc’s head. Small replicas of his trophies were there too as well as miniatures of his helmets.

“A real fan.” he smiled.

“The best.” you sighed. “ You don’t know how happy he was when you won in Monza. It brought so much joy in his life. Even if it wasn’t for long. It was a tough time, he had just started to get hospitalized, he was very sick and pale and the shell of what he once was. And suddenly, he was feeling a little more alive. Because of you. Then, time went by and I had to leave for New York. It was the toughest decision I had to make in my life. At some point I was ready to take a year off so I could be with him…”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Him. With time my dream became his. He wouldn’t have forgiven me if I was giving it all up because he was sick. He was talking about how amazing it would be if I was interviewing you. I bet he is the happiest up there.” you smiled, looking up. “One of his dreams was to meet you.”

“Maybe it is not too late?” Charles hesitantly said and you looked at him curiously. “Is he buried here?”

You nodded and he felt you stiffened.

“I've never been on his grave.” you confessed after a moment of silence. “It’s too hard and too painful to go there alone.”

“Good thing you’re not alone anymore, then.”

As you were making your way to the graveyard, Charles had to hold you closer to his chest with each step you were taking. You sobs were getting louder and your legs were shakier. It was breaking his heart, trying to see how much you were trying to keep it together.

When you finally reached the grave, at the back end of the graveyard, you fell on your knees in front of the black grave. Luc hated black. A black and white picture of him was also in the middle of the gravestone. It made you shiver. It was well kept, your parents were coming often. The lump in your throat had not gone away in the slightest, it was even bigger now, making you choke up on your own saliva. Charles wanted to hold you, wanted to get you out of here. The emotional devastation you were in was making him want to join you on the ground and cry with you. But he also knew you needed it. It was the closure you needed to move forward. He took a few steps away, giving you privacy.

“I’m so sorry, Luc. So sorry. Sorry about how I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, sorry to have let you down, sorry to not have stepped up and measured up when I should have, sorry to not have been the sister you deserved. There is not a day that goes by when I don’t regret not being by your side. There are so many things that I should have done differently, so many things that I feel guilty about but none of them compare to how guilty I feel to not have said goodbye. I acted like a coward and I know how much you felt scared about dying. And how I promised you I would hold your hand until the end. I didn’t. I chickened out and I failed you. If I could go back in time, I would, just so I could look into your eyes one last time and hold your hand tight. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would trade anything for one last smile of yours. I hope you can forgive me, I sure can’t do that alone. But despite everything I’m happy and I’m not sure I should be. I fell in love and you would be ecstatic to know who I share my life with. He is supportive and kind and perfect for me. I wish we would have had enough time so you could have met him. But maybe after all, it’s you I should thank. Maybe it’s you who sent Charles on my way. Maybe it is your way of telling me that you are not mad at me. That you want me to be happy. If only you could give me a sign. I just want you to know that everything I do, I do it for you. Because I love you. Forever.”

You felt Charles’ arms around your shoulders as he crouched down beside you.

“Hey, Luc. I know we don’t know each other but your sister talks about you so much that I feel like I already know you. I would have loved to meet you, I know how big of a fan you are of F1. I would have loved to show you around the paddock, maybe I would have let you sit in my car. Anything to make you and your sister smile. You are brave and strong and I have nothing but pure admiration for you. I wish I could have met you. Don’t worry about your sister, I take good care of her and I don’t want to let go of her. I’m here for her for as long as she lets me but I hope it is a forever kind of thing.” he whispered as you looked at him with big and glossy eyes.

He helped you stand up, asked if you were alright and if you wanted to leave. He didn’t mind staying but he wanted to make sure you were alright, the day had been emotionally draining enough. When you nodded, he took you in his arms, engulfing you in his jacket so you weren’t cold and kissed the top of your head as you headed out.

“I’m so proud of you. So proud.” he said as you finally reached his car.

“Thank you. For being there. I don’t think I would have been able to do it alone.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You would have done it at some point.”

“Did you mean it? What you said up there… About us being forever.” you shyly asked.

“I’m sorry it was not the best time to say it. But to answer you, I do. I’m not kidding, Y/N, I swear I can’t explain it. I don’t know how either but I just know. You’re the love of my life.”

Author's note: In laws meeting incoming... how do you think it will turn out? .

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moon-rivr · 4 months

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for the first time

part two of still beating

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: smut, oral (f receiving), somehow even more angst, death, blood

author’s note: should i be mentally preparing for the ‘when i catch you ricky’ comments 🌚 all jokes aside, thank you for all the suggestions that you guys sent <3

word count: 4.1K

still beating (part one)

Leaving the Spider Society was much easier than you expected it to be, nobody really questioning you out of the belief that it was because of what Miguel had done. While seeing his face around the building everyday wasn't exactly the most pleasant feeling, the main reason as to why you'd left was to be able to carry out the pregnancy in peace. You wanted to rid yourself of the stresses that came along with being in the society, those including the ones that were caused by your coworkers. You started the process of removing yourself from the society slowly, starting out with coming into the building less and less. Before anyone could realize what your intentions had been, you had already left.

"Make sure you come to visit us, okay? We can't wait to see you with the baby," Gwen told you as you were getting ready to leave everything behind. You knew that hiding out in your universe was too risky, that it would be the first place that Miguel would ever think to look for you so you decided to take refuge in another universe. "I'll do that, stay safe. And take care of each other," you responded, her arms wrapping around your torso ever so gently. After the initial interaction that the both of you had, the two of you started going out for lunch and hosting game nights with Hobie and Pav. You glanced over at Hobie who leaned against the wall, knowing that he'd be less receptive towards a hug.

You extended your hand out, his engulfing yours as he dapped you up. "Take care of yourself, lass. And of the lil one there," Hobie told you as he let go of your hand, getting off from the wall before glancing over at Gwen. They were about to leave before you decided to call out to them once more, a small smile on your face as you looked at them. "Thank you for everything, You guys didn't need to show me the kindness that you did," you told them, a curt nod from both of them in response before they walked away. You looked down at the small duffel bag you'd packed with a few pairs of clothes and some bare necessities, wondering if this was the best decision though you already knew the answer, tapping some buttons on your gizmo to open up a portal.

Before you could leave the universe, you knew that there was something that you should do first. You ended up at an apartment on the Lower East Side, nimble fingers knocking on the door as you waited for some type of response. After waiting for what seemed to be around five minutes, you decided to turn around and start to head back home when you heard the door open. Miguel's girlfriend before you stood in front of the door, her expression painted with annoyance as she looked at you. You'd considered if this was truly a good idea for a couple minutes before coming here, ultimately deciding that you should at least offer her an apology for your actions.

"Come in," she finally spoke up for a minute, almost like she was expecting Miguel to appear behind you. You stepped into her apartment, immediately getting welcomed by the smell of wood burning at the fire place. You glanced over at the sofa she was sitting at, your eyes silently asking her if you could take a seat. She nodded, motioning for you to take a seat and so you did. "I'm sorry about what I did to you. I should've respected you and your relationship at the time but I let my selfish desires get the best of me," your apology came out a bit awkward, but it was genuine.

"I'm not sure that Miguel or I respected our relationship all that much at the time, but you're right. It was really fucking awful seeing him with you, acting the way that I wanted him to for months," she responded, folding her arms across her chest. "With that being said, I acknowledge the courage that it must've taken you to come here and I respect the fact that you're willing to look me in the eye to apologize. But I don't forgive you," she added, making your head lower a bit in shame. "You're completely entitled to that. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry about the way things went down. And I hope that you don't think him cheating was a reflection on you, you seem like a very lovely person," you finished up, getting up from the couch after you finished speaking.

You knew that expecting forgiveness was a bit of a long stretch, but at least you felt that weight of guilt lifted off of you the slightest bit. As you stepped out on the street, you tapped a couple buttons on your gizmo to a random universe before taking off your watch when the portal appeared. You stepped inside, unsure of what to expect out of the new environment that you would be living in from now on. The universe that you'd landed on only had a few minor differences such as tree placement and the billboards that were present, otherwise remaining a perfect copy of Earth-928. You made your way down the streets, finding that the streets were the same as what they used to be. You stopped in front of the coffee shop that you used to frequent, deciding to get yourself a drink.

You weren't trying too hard to forget about what Miguel had made you feel, but you felt all the air leave your lungs as you looked at this version of him. It felt exactly like the first time you'd seen him, only now with the previous memories of what the other one had done. You'd bumped into him after you were making your way out of the coffee shop, your cup spilling to the floor as a result. This version of him looked like he was 25-26, still in graduate school based off the books he was gripping so tightly in his arms. "Sorry about that, are you okay?" He asked, your eyes drifting up to his face. "I'm okay, sorry about bumping into you. I wasn't paying attention," you lied to him, rubbing the back of your neck.

The truth was, you'd seen him walking out of the Alchemax building across the street and you decided to do the most logical thing, put yourself in his way and 'bump' into him. "Since you spilled your coffee, I can make it up to you by buying you a new one," he suggested, his eyes darting from your spilled cup back to your face. "You don't have to do that, it was my fault," you responded, feeling slightly guilty for the way that you'd chosen to approach this version of Miguel. While you knew that they shared essentially everything about their physical appearance in common, you also knew that you had to approach them as two different people rather than using methods you used on the other Miguel to compensate.

"Well yes, I know that I technically don't have to do anything. But I'm suggesting it to you because I want to," he added, stepping off to the side and opening the door of the coffee shop for you. You stepped inside as he followed suit behind you, standing in the line with you. "I'm Miguel, it's nice to meet you. I can't help but feel like maybe I’ve seen you before," he spoke up after a while, the line moving slowly. You told him your name and dismissed away his concern by telling him that you had a very generic face. "I don't think so, you have the kind of face that's hard to forget. your aura's very.. alluring," he responded to that before the barista called the both of you over.

The two of you sat down, the exchange a bit awkward as you stirred at your coffee with your straw. "What are you studying?" You decided to break the silence and ask him a couple questions about himself, taking a sip from your coffee. "I'm majoring in genetics at Alchemax, though my undergrad was mostly biology based. and you, what'd you study for?" He asked, leaning over the table slightly as you told him your answer. "So why genetics?" You followed up, hoping that he'd be more receptive to answering questions about himself than his other version was.

"Frankly, the main reason I chose to get into genetics was because my father works at Alchemax so I kind of grew up around that environment. But I want to make some kind of change in the world and the way that diseases are managed rather than take advantage of the resources that are given like most geneticists end up doing," he explained, allowing you to get a glimpse of just how protective and caring he seemed to be past his exterior.

The conversation flowed easily between the two of you, having you delve into some details about your life without elaborating too much on where you were from before he had told you that he had to go. "Sorry about that, i have to go pick up my brother Gabriel from soccer practice since I took the car today. I'd love to talk to you more if you're down, Do you mind giving me your number?" he told you before he he left, looking at you expectantly. You hadn't even thought about that aspect moving into this universe, your mind rushing to make up an excuse that didn't make you seem uninterested in him. "I just got my phone stolen actually. I'm about go get a new one though, if you want to give me your phone number instead," you responded, watching as he grabbed a napkin and a pen to scribble down his number.

Despite the fact that you'd rushed off to buy a cell phone after your interaction with Miguel, you couldn't help but feel hesitant as you played with the paper he'd given you. The knowledge that you were an anomaly in this universe wasn't lost upon you, that even with every breath that you took, you were threatening the balance of this universe and the natural flow of events. You knew that just by texting Miguel at this moment, you'd possibly be disturbing with the stability of the canon. But no matter how wrong it felt to do it, being around him and talking to him just felt so right and easy.

You: Hey, it's the girl from the coffee shop :-) it was really nice talking to you

Miguel: Hey! I was looking forward towards your text, I really had a good time with you today. I hope you don't mind me being forward but would you like to hangout some other time?

You: Before we do, there's actually something I have to disclose to you.

Miguel: Oh no, you're an alien right?

You: Not quite LOL, just pregnant.

You bit down on your lower lip as you waited for a text back from him, feeling uneasy at the way he would react. You counted down the seconds as he typed out his response, anticipation building up as you saw the bubbles appearing on your screen.

Miguel: That doesn't change my opinion on you, I still want to get to know you better if the baby daddy doesn't have any objections towards that.

You: No, you don't have to worry about that, he's not in the picture.

Miguel: Okay, well there's this Italian restaurant with really good pasta on 80th street. I'm free on Saturday at 7 if that works for you.

You: See you then :)

The first date with Miguel went better than you'd expected, the rush of excitement that you'd felt when seeing him the first time sticking throughout the whole experience. Dates between the two of you were simple, having a good time no matter where the two of you ended up. He made you sure to be consistent with the attention that he was giving you after that despite the many commitments in his life, such as finishing up grad school, having an internship at Alchemax, and tutoring a kid named Peter Parker. He made sure to bring you your favorite flowers at the beginning of each new date, often spoiling you with whatever you had a craving for that day. A couple of months had passed since you had started the relationship with Miguel, the feeling of bliss never ending whenever you were with him.

The two of you were out walking in the street after catching a movie, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he held you close to him. "Miguelll, I'm kinda hungry for some Chipotle. I have such a craving for Mexican food," you whined, feeling your stomach grumble afterwards. "I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just say Chipotle was Mexican food and move on to my next point. They just closed so you're gonna have to pick somewhere else," he answered, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It's called Chipotle Mexican Grill," you countered, hearing him let out a small groan. "I can take you back to my place. I made some carne guisada earlier," he suggested, your mouth watering at just the anticipation. (stewed meat)

"This is like the best thing ever," you practically moaned out as you bit into the piece of meat that he'd given you. "Better than Chipotle, you'd say?" He asked, sitting down across from you as you ate. "Definitely. I mean, I like chipotle but for some reason their beans always make me have to go to the bathroom," you responded, not really measuring your words as you spoke. "Well, my food's never been the result of anyone's chorro so I think you'll be good," he told you, pouring you a small glass of water before setting it down. "Where'd you learn how to cook like this?" You inquired, watching as brows knitted together before he spoke again. "My mom's Mexican so there was always that sort of element around the house. I ended up visiting a couple years back and I sort of learned the cuisine from the locals."

You and Miguel were laying down in bed after dinner, his head in between your legs since he'd read somewhere that orgasms were good for the cramps that you'd been having. "Miguel, would you still like me if I was a worm?" You asked him, feeling his tongue circle around your clit before stopping. "You're asking me this right now?" He asked, looking up at you as his fingers went inside of you. "Yes. More specifically, a pregnant worm," you elaborated, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth as he shook his head. "Yes, I’d love you even if you were a pregnant worm. I'd stick you in my pocket and take you to work. Feed you little insects and whatnot," he responded, his mouth going back to what it was doing before.

Your mouth parted as you felt his tongue running across your folds, collecting the slick that'd been dripping out from his ministrations. You felt yourself unraveling with every stroke of his tongue, your pleasure being his priority in the moment as he plunged his fingers deep into your cunt. You felt yourself clench around the two fingers he had inside of you, your slick coating them to provide with an easier access. "Don't stop, please," you begged, feeling yourself approaching that familiar point of an orgasm. "Don't worry nena, I wasn't planning to," he told you, keeping the same pace as he worked you through your orgasm. Your fingers fisted at his hair, hitting your peak just a couple seconds later.

You woke up the next morning, feeling incredibly relieved. you weren't too sure if Miguel was right about the orgasms or if it was simply because you'd slept near him, but you didn't have it in you to question it. He'd gotten up earlier than you, already dressed in a button down and and jeans by the time you were up. "I can leave if you want me to. I don't want to impose," you told him, getting up from the bed as you tried to fix up your sleep ridden appearance. "I don't mind, you can stay here. I think I'll be home late from work but I'll send you a message to confirm later. Te quiero, stay safe," he told you, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead before he went out to his class.

A lingering feeling followed you throughout the evening, a feeling of impending doom and misery. You’d been helping out around the city when you weren’t with Miguel but you'd chosen to skip out on patrolling the city tonight, figuring that the Spider-Man of this universe could handle the task and decided to treat yourself a bit with some snacks from a bodega near by. You looked down at your phone, biting down at your bottom lip as you scrolled through the vast majority of texts that Miguel had sent you. He'd simply told you that he would be staying late today because he had something to finish up at work but the more time that passed, the more that your concern grew. Seven o'clock turned into eight, eight turning into nine.

You didn't want to be that type of clingy partner, but you grabbed a spare key card and decided to go pay Miguel a visit at work to make sure he was doing okay. The sounds of sirens distracted you from your worry, the police car practically zooming down the street as other cars opened up a pathway for it to pass. You weren't sure what it was, whether it was a form of intuition or simply just a gut feeling, but you decided to follow that cop car. Police tape had been set up at the scene where the cop car stopped at, a crowd building up around it. The snacks that you'd eaten earlier began to taste bitter in your mouth as you made your way through the crowd, eyes widening as you saw the person laying there.

Your airway felt constricted as you looked down at the floor, seeing Miguel on the floor with a gunshot wound to his chest. You could feel people looking at you as you struggled to breathe, but your attention was solely on the man lying in the cold pavement while the police waited for the coroner to arrive. "Ma'am?" A police officer asked, wanting to evaluate the situation before making any sudden movements. "Please, let me through. That's my boyfriend," you pleaded, managing to get the words out despite how heavy your tongue felt in your own mouth. Your caution about getting caught by this universe's Spider-Man went out the window, simply concerned about assessing Miguel. The officer asked one of his partners if all the evidence was collected before letting you into the scene.

You got down on the pavement, practically on your knees as your hand reached over to grab Miguel's. The usual warmth that he exuded was gone, simply replaced by the cold reminder of death. You kept looking over at him, almost expecting him to rise and tell you that it was just a cruel joke and that everyone had been in on it. You looked down at the puddle of blood that built up around him, the life escaping from his body with every liter that he'd lost. The police explained to you that according to the security footage from a store nearby, he got cornered by a couple men in a ski mask in the alley. They'd threatened him for his wallet and other personal belongings, shooting him when he'd resisted far too much. You reached into his pockets, finding out that they’d taken his things after they’d shot him which meant the resistance he’d put up had been for naught.

You knew that Miguel's death was a canon event for the Spider-Man of this universe, that losing a mentor was necessary for the self-perseverance that Peter had building up but you didn't understand why it had to be your Miguel. You'd never felt so useless and guilty in your life, thinking about how maybe you've could've stopped this if you'd just gone on patrol for the night. Though it might've done more harm to the universe than good, you wanted to be selfish and just feel Miguel's embrace one more time. Feel the warmth of his hugs as he held you close to his chest, his head resting on top of yours.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you forced yourself to trudge forward and head home before you ended up getting robbed in the middle of the street too. Left foot forward, right foot follow. You felt yourself having to make the involuntary movements that your body naturally made, the exhaustion of the day taking its toll on you. You stopped in the middle of the street, feeling a burning sensation in your throat as you leaned over to vomit. You weren't sure if it was the snacks that you'd had earlier or an effect of what you'd seen earlier, possibly a combination of the both of them. When you stood up straight and wiped away the vomit from your face, your attention immediately went to the portal appearing in front of you.

Talons ripped the ends of the portal, almost like the person behind it was too impatient to wait for it to open. Miguel came out and looked over at you, deactivating the head piece of his costume just so you could see the annoyance that this little stunt had caused him. "We need to talk," he told you, making it seem like you were in rather for a scolding than having a simple conversation. His eyes flickered down to the little bump on your belly, his eyes softening just the slightest bit before he looked up at you with that cold expression once more. There was nothing promising in this universe for you anymore, so you decided to follow him back to the Spider Society.

Miguel led you to his office once the two of you arrived back at the society, the stares and whispers of the other members following suit. "LYLA, don't have anyone bother me right now," Miguel spoke up, his assistant appearing and nodding before disappearing off once more. You waited for him to say something to you, anything to make this conversation go faster so you didn't have to be in the same room with him much longer. The sensation of wanting to be the furthest away from him right now felt foreign to you, especially when you often longed for the moment that he would pay some attention to you even if it was only for a couple seconds. "Do you have any idea of the damage that you could've done to that universe had you interfered with any canon event?!"

Seeing Miguel's anger felt strange to you, always having seen it directed towards someone else rather than towards you. You weren't sure if you should try to give him your explanation or let him yell it out, choosing to go for the first option. "Nothing happened though! At least nothing that wasn't supposed to," You responded, starting to feel a bit lightheaded. You padded over to a spare chair he had in his office, his back hunching over his desk the same way you'd seen many times before. "I want to be mad for you for doing such a stupid thing but I realize that i'm the one that led you to that," he spoke up after a couple seconds, facing you once more as he rubbed a hand through his chest.

You were expecting for that to be the end of the 'conversation', standing up from your spot to leave his office. "Hou don't know how hard it was to look at you through those monitors and see you getting the attention you deserved from a variant of myself. You don't know how much I longed for that to be me, to be me that you called when you had a craving for Chipotle in the middle of the night or be the one that you confided in," he spoke up before you had the chance to leave, your head turning so fast that you almost gave yourself whiplash. "You could've had that. Everything that happened was your fault," you replied, your voice showing no remorse for what happened. "You think I don't know that? I’m well aware of what I did, but I still selfishly want to be a part of your life and the baby’s," His voice sounded pained as he spoke, his figure approaching you slowly.

"Please. Just give me the chance to be in our baby's life. That's all I ask of you," he pleaded, desperation evident from the way that he looked at you with such longing. "You have some nerve still asking for something from me! Do you expect me to forget about everything and want me to co-parent with you?!" Your voice boomed through the empty office, your voice bouncing through the walls as they made their way into Miguel's ears. "Please, I'm begging you. I just want the opportunity to be a father to our baby," he added, reaching out to grab you before his hands fell slack by his sides. "NO!" You responded, a sudden pop coming out between your legs as a gush of liquid followed suit.

@mimiemie @laysmt @6thhokageswife @mochimoqa @nifeout @loonalockley @syrzx

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cod-dump · 2 months

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Nikpricegraves thoughts, special delivery!

Nik getting more grey in his hair, and neither Price or Graves wants to bring it up, because they don't know how Nik feels about it. They dom't want to make him feel self-conscious.

So they wait. And Nik finally brings it up, very casually (fronting like hell) musing aloud that he might color the grey so people don't think their evac pilot is too old.

And maaaaybe Price and Graves wanted their responses to be a liiiittle more restrained, a little more level-headed. But they weren't.

Price: You are not TOUCHING that silver--

Graves: Like HELL you're--absolutely not!

Price: Anyone lucky enough to have you picking him up has no right to complain about that!

Graves: And it's sexy as hell anyway!

Price: Exactly, you're fuckin gorgeous.

Nik: ... Thank you?

Nik was a very confident man. He was sure of himself, comfortable in his own skin and almost never doubted himself. But seeing the thin stripes of silver in his hair… he wasn’t too confident on it. The reality of him being old was setting in and he wasn’t very happy about it.

Nik never gave the thought of him getting old much thought considering he didn’t think he would get this far, especially not with his constant flirting with death. He never thought about how he would feel about growing grey, and now that it was here, highlighting his temples? Nik felt his heart squeeze, uncertainty making his chest tight.

Worse part was that neither his husband or boyfriend had mentioned anything about the grey, which just added to his uncertainty about it. He’s caught them whispering about it, both immediately cutting themselves off upon noticing him. He’s caught them staring, again no comments about it. Nik knows they had noticed it, of course they did. They notice everything new or different about him, most of the time even before he’s noticed it.

He didn’t like their silence and was choosing to assume the worst. But he kept quiet, just like how they were choosing to stay quiet. The topic of greying hair wouldn’t come up until one night while they ate dinner. He couldn’t help but stare at their own hair, how he would’ve noticed if John had started to grey (surprising he hadn’t by this point). The silver would’ve been noticeable amongst his dark brown hair, within his beard. It would be undeniably attractive.

Phil greying would been less noticeable considering his golden hair. There would’ve needed to be quite a few grey hairs before it was obvious and even then it would blend nicely with the gold strands. It would add to the American’s charm. Both would carry silver has crowns yet… Nik couldn’t determine that about himself. Couldn’t see himself with it, even as it took residence within his hair.

“I think I need to start investing in hair dye.”

The speed in which Phil turned his head to look at him made Nik fear he would break his neck. John just froze mid bite, eyes looking up to stare at him. Nik kept his usual level of smug confidence about him even though he wasn’t feeling anything remotely similar. Phil swallows his food, taking a deep swig of his water before he glares at him.

“Over my dead body.”

Nik blinked in surprise, his facade cracking.

“Nik, my love, if you do that you’d break my heart,” John added, staring intensely at him.

Nik looked between his partners before he cleared his throat, “Right-“

“Nikky, I’m serious,” Phil said firmly, “That silver is so fucking hot and if you dye it I’ll probably cry.”

“I second that,” John said very seriously.

Nik couldn’t help but laugh at their seriousness. Phil stood and walked behind him fingers going into his hair which of course caused Nik to lean back and practically melt. John stood as well and walked over.

“Should’ve known something was up when you hadn’t said anything. Big, bad Nikolai, insecure over some grey hairs.”

Nik huffs, closing his eyes as Phil continued to play with his hair, “I am not insecure.”

“You just said you wanted to dye it.”

Nik huffs, he could hear Phil’s smirk. He mustered up an unamused frown, which was immediately chased away by a well placed kiss from John. Nik was choosing to be annoyed in order to hide how relieved he felt about their approval. The two would probably pry that confession out of him later when it wouldn’t add onto their smugness over his unusual lack of confidence.

“You might want to prepare for when we return from leave, the boys are definitely going to say something when they notice.”

Nik snorts, “If they have a problem with their transport getting grey then they can cry about it.”

“Cry and complain, with bad jokes on the side.”

By the time they returned from leave, Nik would regain his rock solid confidence. And some jokes of his own because what is an old man without his jokes?

#nikpricegraves my beloved #call of duty #modern warfare #cod nikolai #john price #phillip graves #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #pricegravesnik #nikpricegraves #drabble #he will now be even more insufferable #nik: i’m old i cant be lifting that sorry #nik: i mustve not heard you with being how old i am #nik: im old of course im grumpy #price and graves are going to be sick of him witin a week #(this is a lie they’ll never be sick of him)

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krashlite · 2 months

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I think that c!Jimmy liked being a Bad Boy and a Big Dog because for once in this series a role let him be reckless without being mocked/put down by his allies and without truly harming anyone through the risks he took. In this essay I will explore his character through this lens

Jimmy is an extremely optimistic character, almost always seen smiling and laughing about whatever��s going on. Not in the sense that he laughs when he’s nervous, but in the sense that he makes light of whatever scenario he’s in. On a deeper level, this also translates into overconfidence in a glass-half-full type of way. If there’s a chance a plan could go south, he only focuses on the potential benefit. If there’s a chance he loses a fight, he only focuses on winning

This isn’t to say he’s unaware of negative outcomes, he just chooses to ignore them. The result is him making poor decisions over, and over, and over again. Jimmy knows exactly why he did that but from an outside perspective he’s regarded as stupid

This is seen as early as 3rd life, with Scott practically putting him on a leash to stop him from fighting Ren and his army. Specifically when they manage to chase Dogwarts away from Joel’s base, Jimmy goes to give chase and Scott immediately stops him. They’ve won, and he doesn’t understand why Jimmy would push it further. Jimmy, on the other hand, is thinking about how they’ve been chased across the map like rabbits and knows DW will be back unless they establish themselves as a threat. Now’s the perfect time, since they have the upper hand

But again, Scott doesn’t see this. In his mind, the battle is won and they shouldn’t expend more time, energy, or resources on it. Ultimately he doesn’t want to see Jimmy hurt and believes that restricting what Jimmy does will protect him from harm

I think this shows a fundamental difference in how they interact with the world. Scott’s more practical- he only does what he feels is necessary and is humble enough to know when the risk isn’t worth the reward. Jimmy, on the other hand, wants to test the limits and see what he’s able to accomplish through, once again, taking unnecessary risks.

But this is where things get messy

Again, there is a fundamental difference in their thought processes. This causes them to clash, and since Scott is the one who held more “power” in the relationship (being the one to decide many aspects of their base and being the one to make most deals and plans for the both of them), resulted in Scott putting Jimmy down A Lot. This started with Jimmy returning from the desert without several of the armor pieces he left with and continued throughout the war.

Jimmy, in response to this treatment, started acting More reckless as a means to prove himself. He wanted to be seen as just as strong, smart, and capable as the people around him. Ultimately, he wanted to be respected in his own right, and that didn’t really happen this season!

Nor did it happen in LL,

LL was an entire mess for so many reasons and most of it was due to the game mechanic itself. Lives being treated as currency caused rifts in many alliances, especially the Southlands

This coupled with the fact that Jimmy is already back in 3L habits, trying to prove himself constantly, makes an incredibly messy situation. His efforts in monopolizing sugar cane are downplayed and mocked, he spends so much time getting spyglasses just for Mumbo to lose them. These are meant to be harmless jokes (and really, they are) but Jimmy’s coming off of an unbalanced power dynamic and a tiny bit of it eats away at him and he can’t figure out Why.

Jimmy doesn’t understand why he doesn’t feel valued in the team, so he starts looking at arbitrary reasons Why. The reason he settles on is the life count, with Grian’s death making it known that Yellow-Names are on the brink of being exiled.

This comes back to the game mechanic. Jimmy sees Martyn with four lives, with the ability to either a) bring Grian back to Yellow or b) offer a Yellow-Name in the alliance a life to keep them safe, and Martyn Doesn’t. This tells Jimmy that Martyn either doesn’t trust him or doesn’t value him enough to even attempt to protect him

I think this was even voiced a couple of times during LL, with Martyn closely guarding his lives and finding every reason he could to justify it (he was fully in the right for keeping them, even if doing so hurt others). Jimmy backed off, but there was just a small amount of bitterness that lingered

With Martyn, I think Jimmy picked up on the fact that Martyn was more concerned with protecting his Alliance than the people in it. He needed a group around him, but wasn’t terribly concerned with them otherwise

And that’s what fueled his decision to steal the life. If Martyn doesn’t respect him, if he doesn’t trust him, if he doesn’t care enough to protect him, why should Jimmy do the same. Why should he be a human shield for someone who barely looks his way. Impulse and Mumbo could stay if they wanted, but he wasn’t going to

Which makes it hurt so much more when Martyn asks to run away with him, when Martyn says he cares about Jimmy more than anyone else in the alliance. I want to remind you, Jimmy’s an optimist. He looks at the half-full cup. He doesn’t consider Martyn could be lying because he wanted so badly to just be Seen. So Jimmy gives it back

As it turns out, Martyn was lying. He calls him an idiot, and Jimmy is exiled immediately

All the resolve that Jimmy had in stealing the life crumbles then and there. He starts hanging around the Southlands alliance like a lost puppy, basically begging them to take him back. Martyn’s little ruse inadvertently showed Jimmy that, really, all he wanted is to be valued and supported. The life counts stops being an issue because he’s able to recognize the real issue- he feels undervalued and he feels stupid

That’s a factor even after the Southlands reunites, after he’s almost unanimously voted back in but Grian’s insistent on a recount. I think it’s the main reason why he’s so risky when he goes down to red- with him falling for a trap that he easily could have avoided

Again, it’s the same as 3L. He feels disrespected and undervalued so he takes unnecessary risks in order to prove to himself and to others that he’s just as strong, just as smart, and just as capable as they are.

This is later coupled with Mumbo’s extreme bloodlust when he turns Red. On Red, Mumbo was needlessly violent and is basically the only Red to swing at anything that moved. And I do mean Needlessly violent, he got himself and others into several dicey scenarios because he was impulsive and wanted to Stab. He gave the server a reason to be cautious of Mumbo and any other Red-Name. If Mumbo was a loose cannon, how would others be?

Except Mumbo was only aggressive towards Non-Reds (obviously) and was otherwise supportive of those on his side

I think this actually greatly influenced Skizz’s decision to leave BEST behind, with him seeing Mumbo as someone worth defending/standing by. Not only was he a visibly strong ally with a reputation, he genuinely cared for and supported those who were at his side. In Skizz’s case, he offered a source of stability where BEST couldn’t, and I think the same is true for Jimmy.

Jimmy sees this, and sees Mumbo as someone who can both show him how to be dangerous and respect his abilities in this game. Mumbo was respected as a threat and genuinely cared for those in his company. So he’s the perfect ally, right?

Actually, no, and this isn’t where the Skizz comparison ends either. Remember, Mumbo created the reputation that Reds are a worthy threat and that they’re violent without cause (“oh but what about Joel?” Joel was a joke at best and an annoyance at worst. He I think he definitely did influence Mumbo’s actions but that’s another essay entirely). Mumbo influenced Skizz’s aggression this season, with him becoming more bold in who he threatened or even attacked

So how does this compare to Jimmy? Both of them were coming off of alliances where they were unsupported, so they leaned more into Mumbo’s habits- good and bad. Except they didn’t really see it. Good traits were associated with Mumbo, their friend, and bad traits were associated with their shared condition, their Red-Life.

The plan to trap the bunker played on both, but was coupled with Jimmy’s bad habit of shooting for the best possible outcome. Mumbo had previously turned tail and ran whenever a plan went south, but that’s not how Jimmy is. Jimmy only focuses on the possible gain and ignores possible dangers. When the trap didn’t set off, he insisted on pushing Grian into it. And that actually goes back to him trying to chase Ren’s army- he didn’t know when to call it quits

And of course this causes both of their deaths. To Jimmy, his death caused Mumbo’s. He caused the death of the one ally who actually stood by him. I think this is when he fully internalizes criticism from 3L and LL as a whole. He feels weak, he feels stupid, he doesn’t feel nearly as capable as those around him.

And this carries into DL

Except DL was a much different season than the previous two. The soulmate mechanic in DL meant that you and your ally have to rely on each other, you have to support each other because failing to do so will surely spell your doom

Not only that, but Jimmy was finally paired with a supportive ally from the start. They made their base together because they trusted the other to build more than they trusted themself. When Jimmy came back with cows, Tango’s immediate response was to exclaim “you’re amazing!!!” Instead of criticizing him like previous alliances had- even back in 3L!! This is the first time Jimmy got a fully positive response to his efforts. Tango was overwhelmingly supportive towards Jimmy and Jimmy returned the favor. The base didn’t look perfect, but it was theirs. The server didn’t want them to have a horn so they devised a plan to get one.

Tango had also been following a similar arc up until now- with him being undervalued by his alliances. Except in those alliances, he was pushed to the side or physically harmed instead of being an object of ridicule. I think this is part of why it isn’t really out of place for them to meet through dying. Tango was expecting to be harmed and so was Jimmy, so neither of them blame the other

With Tango being pushed to the side, he also shied away from leadership positions, finding it more comfortable to follow. This paired well with how Jimmy typically takes charge of things, with Jimmy making most plans for the both of them (most, not all)

But again, this is where things get messy

Remember, Jimmy uses risks to prove his worth. He wants to see what he can do, but is also still recovering from previous seasons. He still thinks he’s the reason why him and Mumbo died, and doesn’t want to cause the death another ally, especially one who loves him. Instead of staying careful, he devises a plan to steal livestock, to steal Scar’s horse. It’s for the ranch, it’s for Tango

I think Jimmy realizes the problem when the Ranch is burned. He’s forced to confront this when he sees Tango fly into a rage and almost try to fight a group of people he’d surely lose to. Jimmy cannot be reckless here, he has to talk Tango down from the proverbial ledge.

With this, the roles end up reversing, with Tango being the reckless one and Jimmy trying to steer him to be more tactical. And Jimmy is So careful about this too, not wanting to act like Scott or the Southlands. Because of that he never actually tells Tango no on his dangerous plans- ESPECIALLY the plan to release Rancher’s Revenge, the warden- but instead suggests ways to make the plan better

The dilemma here is that Jimmy needs to choose between being risky and being safe. Both would benefit Tango, except Jimmy knows from experience how much it hurts to be bound in bubble-wrap all the time

Jimmy sees no way to avoid risks without hurting Tango. So instead of fighting against that part of himself, Jimmy leans into it. He accepts it as a key tenet of his identity, even as it puts the both of them in harms way. Yes they went down in the end, but they went down together, Always Together.

It didn’t matter if Jimmy was a “worthy” ally, he didn’t need to be Smart, he didn’t need to be Strong, he didn’t even need to be Capable. He learned that he deserved love not in spite of his flaws, but alongside his flaws.

And this is the lesson he carries into the next two Seasons, with both alliances being fully centered on being reckless

The Bad Boys acted dangerously, but they acted as a unit- ESPECIALLY him and Joel. Bad Boys dig straight down, Bad Boys water bucket clutch from the build limit, Bad Boys care about each other not in spite of endangering themselves, but because of it

And this is because Joel had a nearly identical arc. Joel in previous seasons had a habit of acting recklessly in the same way Jimmy did, and was cast aside because of it. In 3L he ended up a Lone Wolf, in LL he was forced into a position where he’s the villain, and in DL he and Etho leaned into the danger in the same way Jimmy and Tango did. Their stories run parallel so it only makes sense that they’re the ones who end up supporting each other in LimL

And Joel was Jimmy’s main source of support that season, with Grian representing the criticism of previous seasons. This gave Jimmy the ability to confront said criticisms through, again, leaning into them. He did something stupid? Yes, but him and Joel were having fun. A plan went south because of unnecessary risks? Yes, but Joel was being risky with him. Joel gave Jimmy the ability to basically cut through the aforementioned “bubble wrap” Grian was trying to put around them

And I think it’s also important to mention Grian did this out of both love and cowardice, not malice. Ultimately he didn’t want to lose either of them and was trying to keep them alive longer. But because Grian never learned the lesson they did- that it’s more important to act together than to survive alone- Grian chooses survival and ends up alone.

Anyways, recklessness being the foundation of Jimmy’s alliances carries into SL as well

Jimmy was on the brink of death for almost the entire season, man was not thriving whatsoever and that was known. Funnily enough, he ends up with Martyn, who again was previously more concerned with his own safety than the people around him

But Martyn is just coming off of a victory, of finally achieving the very thing he’d been working towards and the thing he centered his motivations on. Without that goal, he’s left with his methods- which was mostly having dangerous ideas and seeing them through

With Jimmy, Martyn introduced plans that involved them being risky and in everyone else’s faces. This, to Jimmy, echoed both Joel and Tango’s behavior. He was able to fully settle into the fact that, for him, good things come from being reckless, from shooting for the best possible outcome and refusing to back down

Jimmy maintains his optimism and his recklessness, traits that had previously been challenged but traits he stubbornly holds onto and values in his Life

#someone pointed out that the only psychoanalyses of this man are abt the curse #and I might be making an amv specifically About The Curse but goddamnit I can’t let him be done dirty like this #will actually write the essay so if you come back to this and there’s a wall of text that’s why #edit essay is written #trafficblr #jimmy solidarity #traffic smp #grian #scott smajor #mumbo jumbo #skizzleman #martyn inthelittlewood #tango tek #if you want the canary curse tie in-#it greatly factors into the image of him being weak and lacking value #that’s why he fights so hard against it #he needs to prove that he has value and he needs to prove that he isn’t worthless because of his shortcomings #long post

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sugar-grigri · 7 months

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Correction: Fake! CSM is the God Devil

WAIT WAIT WAIT and if, going back over this analysis, Fake!CSM or even the famous demon that Yuko and the others had contracted with wasn't an identity or memory demon

This entity would be the demon representing the fear of God? I CAN EXPLAIN! That would explain why this demon has the appearance of Chainsaw Man

As Angel explained, Chainsaw Man is the being who draws the line between death and birth for demons, the sound of chainsaws being what they hear when they are born or die.

As a result, Chainsaw Man had a natural superiority over the other demons, to the point of being feared as a divine power.

Whether it's Beam, who considered himself a follower of Chainsaw Man, or Makima, who was fascinated by him, it's an abnormal relationship between demons and CSM, tinged with veneration and fear.

Chainsaw Man is a divine figure who has also become enshrined among mortals, who see him as a means of fighting against their injustices.

You see where I'm going with this, the demon resulting from the fear of God has ended up taking on the appearance of the saviour and punisher projected by both demons and humans.

This would explain why this demon didn't lie when he called himself a demon of justice, just as it explains Barem's reaction, whom he sees as his saviour, just as it explains Fake!CSM's appearance, and finally, it explains the biblical references made by the impostor.

Which confirms my theory that Fake!CSM is NOT an enemy of Denji - quite the opposite, in fact. He wants the real Chainsaw Man to act, to be feared by demons and worshipped by humans, to once again reinforce the divine aspect of his image.

Denji is the source of Fake!CSM's power, which is why Fami has built a church around his figure to further reinforce this aspect, and why the impostor prefers to speak in Denji's name to make a more religious statement than the real CSM, who couldn't care less about such considerations.

If we were to get to know Denji as he really is, the very nature of a simple teenager would destroy his reputation for being invincible.

That's why Barem and Fami want Denji to join their cause anyway, because Chainsaw Man has to do exactly what they think will strengthen his reputation as a divine being.

If Nostradamus's apocalypse is fulfilled, people will not only fear divine wrath, they'll start praying to Chainsaw Man too!

Fake!CSM is Fami's champion for countering the apocalypse, and she's only interested in making it as powerful as possible.

This also explains why the public hunters want to paralyse Chainsaw Man and prevent him from showing his face, to avoid confirming this growing reputation and veneration. I repeat, when Yoshida said those words it wasn't to help Denji but to express the will of the hunters in any case. The fact that one of them said that it would be simpler if he were a weapon doesn't detract from this. It's simpler for CSM to be a unanimous being who's easy to hide and control than an unpredictable teenager.

The public hunters don't know exactly what's going on, as evidenced by their natural suspicion of Fami, whom they thought was behind this apocalypse, or by their response to the church's intentions in the last chapter. However, they do have their doubts about Fami, the knight of the apocalypse, whom they must know to be the founder of the church, and since the church relies on Chainsaw Man as the guardian of public order, it was safer for him to stop acting and not to go along with the church.

Chainsaw Man is the symbol of the demons' death, which erases their names and dictates their existence, so here's a theory on what will trigger the apocalypse...

It won't be caused by one demon in particular, but by a general revolt of demons such as has already taken place in the underworld to put an end to Chainsaw Man, to this supreme demon.

When the natural death of demons no longer exists, of course, this will mean the victory of demons over humans, as foretold by prophecy.

If this war breaks out, this explains why Fami Yoru believes that the demon of war is the one who will be able to counter this attack of demons.

Let's go back to this prophecy :

The simplest

Mars as god of war is none other than Yoru

But you know what's interesting is that according to all the thinkers analysing Nostradamus, what Nostradamus was actually predicting was not an apocalypse but an eclipse of the sun.

So this allows us to identify the other protagonists: the great King of Terror is none other than the moon that hides the sun, which will soon reappear.

The Great King of Angoulmois is none other than Denji

Overshadowed by Fake!CSM

Now you know why it only works before the sun comes out.

#chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #csm spoilers #csm 145 #denji #barem #fami #my thoughts

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seeingivy · 7 months

Text

funeral

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic

content: depictions of grief, talk of addiction/anxiety

an: i am alive (mostly). eat your cake, even though I think it Is bad (this chapter was the hardest to write, right next to the "the third act" chapter

songs mentioned: marjorie by taylor swift

previous part linked here

“What are you thinking, Eren?” Hange asks.

The question is stupid. Eren is thinking of the only logical conclusion that he can draw from the autopsy report. The implication of it, of how Marco really died, is sitting right in front of him.

The patient is a twenty-three year old Caucasian male with no significant medical history. Emergency services responded to the scene of a motor vehicle crash around nine p.m. At the scene, responders found that the patient was trapped in the vehicle, upturned on the side of the road, with no pulse at the time of arrival. Patient was declared dead on scene. Autopsy concluded that primary cause of death was asphyxiation, secondary cause being severe loss of blood due to injuries in the extremities.

“I’m thinking that the paparazzi killed him, Hange.” Eren spits.

“Eren.”

“Hange, don’t. Just-” Levi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Levi’s eyes are borderline gaunt. Eren knows the past few days have sat horribly on Levi’s shoulders and perhaps the past year and a half have too.

The guilt is excruciating. Because all Eren knows how to do is ruin people.

He dragged Levi and Hange into his mess, when he asked them for help. But it had gone too far at that point, the interview, the night on the beach, the fight - he had exhausted all ends and desperately needed someone on his side.

Levi and Hange all but berated him for it. For letting it get so far, for waiting so long when he should have known that they were always there to help. But this reaction, Levi being the one to side with his outburst is proof enough that he made the wrong choice, that he should have stuck with himself. That them bending backwards and forwards to get him out of his mess has truly taken its toll.

Levi and Hange always mimicked him and you. Eren and Hange, he knows they both have a tendency to get so lost in the emotion, to feel it so deep that the response is too loud, too much for what’s called for. That’s when you and Levi would come in, to soothe them down and bring them back to Earth.

In the same vein, you and Levi, you planted your weeds too deep into the ground. Rooted in exactly what he’s not quite sure - perhaps misplaced insecurities, whatever the two of you seemed to hide in those deep inner walls - but it kept you both stagnant, stuck where you were. That’s where Hange and Eren came in, pushing you both to soar a little bit higher than what you imagined for yourself.

But now Levi’s here, all but exhausted and broken, the same way he’s sure you were. That’s why things got so fucked up. Eren didn’t let you pull him down. He didn’t pull you up.

“They killed him, Hange.” Levi states, tone void of any emotion.

“Levi. It’s almost midnight, we’re all feeling emotional right now. We should look at this all with a clear mind tomorrow.”

“They killed him. There is nothing to look at.” Levi says, enunciating every inflection of his words.

Eren knows it for a fact. And from the look on Hange’s face, he knows they do too. His train of thought is cut off by the knocking - rapid, loud consecutive knocks slamming against the wood.

“God, Eren. Go get it now before they run off with our food.” Hange murmurs, gesturing towards the door.

Eren shuffles past the length of the hallway and swings open the door to find not his UberEats bag, but Lana, out of breath and panting on his doorstep.

“Ew. You just left two hours ago. Why are you back already?”

“Eren. Oh my god.”

Lana wraps her arms around him, squeezing hard, as she cries into his shoulder. Her demeanor settles an immediate panic under his skin. The last time she reacted like this, Eren had to watch the most gut wrenching interview of his life while she held his hand. God knows whatever she’s about to tell him now is going to break him.

Eren brings his hands up and grabs her shoulders, applying pressure to stop her from shaking in his arms.

“Lana. What’s wrong with you? Why are you-”

“Eren. I’m so sorry, you- I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, just-just say it.” she pants, hiccuping in between her tears.

Eren frowns, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her out of the cold Seattle air into the kitchen where Hange and Levi are cooking by the stove.

“Hi Lana Bear! How are you, kid?” Hange says, all but bouncing over to wrap their arms around Lana.

This only upsets Lana more, the discomfort worsening in Eren’s chest as he can’t help but stare at her, at her brown eyes turning almost red from the downpour of her tears and the tension sitting in her shoulders.

“What is it? Who died?”

The question, when Eren asks it, is entirely rhetorical. A figure of speech, meant to emphasize that Lana’s reaction was extreme, too obscene for whatever it is she must be talking about. But when she doesn’t respond and swallows hard, the look on her face so crestfallen, Eren’s chest settles into a panic.

His first thought is you.

“Lana. Is she dead? What are you-”

Lana scrambles for the remote on the counter, switching from the Disney Channel to the first news report she can find. The image is of an overturned car, the metal crushed and steaming in the front, accompanied with words that burn Eren’s ears. The first hit is relief - that it’s not you. The second hit is painful, like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs.

Because it’s Marco.

“What?” Levi says, taking his eyes off the stove to glance at the screen.

Eren can feel his phone incessantly buzzing in his pocket and he reaches for it immediately, Lana leaning into his side as she continues to cry into his shoulder. Levi and Hange are moving closer to the television, like that’ll somehow make the sound better, the image clearer, like they’ll be able to find falsity in it.

jean: the bodt’s said the funeral is going to be near the old house. ask levi and hange if we can all stay in the townhouse together.

bertholdt: reiner and i are heading over tonight.

sukuna: Let me know if you need anything. Give the paparazzi hell for this one.

connie: i’m coming back to seattle. i-i don’t know if i can do this.

Eren’s quick to respond to that one.

eren: i’ve got you man. meet us in new york as soon as you can, we’re all going to stay at the townhouse. don’t leave sasha’s side until you get there okay?

connie: alright. okay, thanks.

eren: phone is on.

“This is bullshit. How do they know it’s him?” Levi says angrily, hands crossed over his chest.

“Levi.” Hange says, voice nearly cracking.

“No, I’m being fucking serious. How do they know that this guy is our Marco? There’s no proof. Call the Bodt’s right now.” Levi says, pacing the kitchen for where he left his phone.

Eren frowns, his head racing as Levi walks the length of the kitchen and Hange settles into their immediate panic.

“Eren.” Lana says.

“Hm?”

“I have to tell you something. You’re going to hate it. I-”

“Just tell me, Lana. No-no beating around the bush.”

“The paparazzi…got to him first before the police.” she whispers.

“What?” Eren says, through gritted teeth as his head all but short circuits.

“They knew it was his car, he’d been driving it around that part of Nashville for a while. They were probably just following him to get pictures wherever he was going. But then he-he crashed and-”

“And what? They took pictures of it? Of him?” Eren asks, squeezing Lana’s shoulders too hard.

“Yeah. They-they only called the police when they were done, Eren. I-”

The tears fill Eren’s eyes as the implication cuts deep. It all but sears the air in his lungs, the tears welling so fast that it’s already obstructing his vision. All he can feel is Lana’s hands, squeezing his biceps, as he tries to control the heaving in his chest.

“How long?”

“Eren.” she says, tone so pitiful it makes his blood boil.

“How long, Lana?” he asks, voice cracking.

“It took them forty-five minutes to get there. They would have been there in fifteen.” she whispers.

And now, the autopsy report tells him enough. With a definitive resolve that the paparazzi killed Marco. Because he died from asphyxiation, from being twisted in the metal, not getting any air. And if the police had gotten there maybe a moment earlier, a second faster, they could have gotten him out, could have at least made sure he was breathing.

They wanted a picture. Marco died for it.

The anger surges through Eren, tenfold when he remembers the paparazzi lining up Jean and Mikasa’s engagement party, Falco’s school, his house the day his grandpa died. When you walked into his garage, drenched from the rain with a deep cut on your face and skidded knees, scared to death.

“I’m done sugarcoating, Hange. Eren is right. They killed Marco.” Levi responds.

Hange sighs, leaning against the counter as Eren walks up to them, resting his head against their shoulder. They all stand there in silence, not even seventy-two hours after the fact, and it still hasn’t hit Eren.

In full flesh, that Marco is gone.

The rapid knocking on the door, real this time, breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Probably Zeke or Armin. I’ve got it.” he murmurs.

“Thanks kid.”

Eren watches as Levi sinks into Hange’s arms, sighing as he shuffles to the door and flicks on the porch light. He swings it open and immediately feels his throat tighten, fully constricted, at the sight of you standing in the lamplight.

You’re looking up at him, swallowing hard, as you stare into his eyes and all Eren can do is wonder if your brain is short circuiting as much as his is. Surely, it isn’t. Eren has every reason to be embarrassed, to be ashamed. And you don’t.

For posterity, he fights all instincts, every urge in his body, to reach forward and hold you. To let your sweet flowery smell take over his nose, to settle his face into that crook in your neck, to have your soft, soft touch running over his skin. To let the mountain of emotions he’s been carrying fall, because you’re here.

But he can’t.

“Hi Eren.”

“Y/N.”

He can’t help but inspect every micro-movement, every gesture you make. Your eyes are nearly glassing over with tears and you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers. You’ve dropped your gaze to focus on the ground, a habit you always had when you were sad, as your voice breaks into the air.

“Can I ask you something? Please?” you whisper.

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders, squeezing once and praying to god you remember what it means, as he nods.

That he’s here and he’s got you.

“Anything. What is it?”

“Is he dead?”

Maybe not anything.

He can’t be the one to tell you. You of all people that Marco died, at the hands of the paparazzi. The same paparazzi who in your very pointed words, gutted your first love like a fish. Who were partly to blame, who drove you out of here alongside him.

“Y/N.”

“Is he?” you repeat, voice smaller.

“Okay. Let’s go inside, you-”

“Is Marco dead, Eren? I’m asking you a question.”

Your anger in your voice is enough to make him stop in his tracks, the second time your voice is laced with that animosity that it scares him into responding. He hears it, in his worst hours, echoing in his mind.

How many times are you going to keep breaking shit without any care in the world? The camera, the fucking award you picked over me, Connie’s fucking livelihood, my heart. God, Eren. All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. From the start.

He swallows hard.

“Yes. Marco’s dead.”

And you don’t even know the half of it.

He watches your glass tears, the ones sitting right on the edge of your eyelashes, fall in full force, onto your cheeks as you immediately start hiccuping, hands clasped against your chest.

“I-I saw it on the news. I-I didn’t believe it but I- They always lie about stuff. I thought it was the same as that and-”

“Y/N, come ins-”

Your panic sets in so fast, so quick that Eren doesn’t even register it. Because one second you’re panting and the next Eren’s watching you retch onto the grass Connie mowed this morning. Eren pushes you into the house the second you stop, straight to the kitchen where Levi and Hange are still standing in their spots.

“Wait, is that-”

“Do you guys know if we have something like…anti-nausea? Is that what you do when someone throws up or-” Eren asks.

“Is that Y/N?” Levi asks.

“Yeah, she-she was on the porch, I-”

Levi’s quick to walk up, hands on your shoulders as he talks, voice quiet and calm when he speaks near your ear. Hange moves to Eren’s side, her face wearing that concerned look she gives him too much these days, as they both rummage through the cabinets for anything that could help.

“Y/N. You okay?” Levi asks.

“I-I threw up on the-the porch. On the g-grass. So-sorry.”

“It’s just grass. What’s-”

Eren tries to still it - that pounding in his heart - as he walks over with the glass of water he filled up for you. Your hands must be wobbling too much because Eren doesn’t let the glass go, instead tilting your head up softly with his hands and pouring the water into your mouth.

“Hey. Drink some more for me.” Eren states, voice soft as he instinctively reaches forward to fix the hairs sticking to the sweat beading your forehead, feeling your skin burning under his touch.

“We should take her temperature.” Eren says.

Levi and Hange dart out of the room, to the drawer upstairs where the thermometer is, as Eren takes breaks between helping you drink the water and rubbing circles into your back.

Eren can feel every muscle in his body tense, his skin burning when you lean forward, forehead resting against his chest as you groan out in pain.

“Hey. You with me?” Eren asks, murmuring straight into your hair.

Eren feels your breathing still against him, his hands intuitively wrapping around you this time, cradling the back of your head in his hands. You hum in response to his question, which is a good enough answer for Eren now.

“Found it.” Levi says, all but speed walking as Eren spins you around, watching as Levi meticulously pushes your sweaty hair out of your face and holds the sensor against your head. You’re all standing there in silence, craning over the little plastic as the two consecutive beeps go off.

“98.6. You’re okay, Y/N.” Levi mutters, setting the thermometer back on the table.

“Thank you, Levi.” you respond back, rubbing your arms on your biceps as you stare at the two of them, withdrawn and withholding from you.

Granted, you’d do the same. You wouldn’t rush to their arms either if they ignored you for two years.

“You can take this for nausea. If it happens again.” Hange says, placing a bottle in your hands.

“Sure. Thank you, Hange.” you respond.

The silence hangs in the air between the four of you as you stand there, each of you racking your heads for the right thing to say. Eren wants to tell Levi and Hange to stop being so rude, that they were the ones who were begging you to come back and now that you’re here they won’t even talk to you. Levi and Hange are debating which one of them should yell at you first, for being withdrawn from them and not asking for help the way Eren did. And you’re figuring out who you should apologize to first, between the three of them.

None of you break. Because it’s not the right time. Because Marco is dead.

“Everyone is sleeping together upstairs. There should be an extra air mattress up there, Eren will get it for you….knock if you need something.” Levi says, tone exasperated as he shuffles away.

“Welcome back, kid.”

Hange gives you a full smile as they follow him, leaving you and Eren in the kitchen. The distance Levi is putting in between you and him stings, but you swallow the burn and remind yourself that you’re the one who inflicted it on yourself.

At the time, after the interview, the rationale made more sense. Nonsensically, you decided that you were done with the industry and that, by proxy, meant that you were done with them too. You did your interview and stuck to your word, never looked back.

It’s humiliating now. Debilitating thinking about how much you must have hurt them. Because each of them, they continually reached out until it stopped. Mikasa made every effort to have you come to her engagement party, that she would even stop the press from coming for Vogue the way they had planned for you.

And when you didn’t show, all she did was send you pictures, of her and Jean cutting the cake and of the dress she had bought for you to wear. Hange and Levi were so vigilant about it, on making sure that you were okay, that you had security details, that people really were leaving you alone. You didn’t heed any of their efforts, because for all intents and purposes, you were leaving the girl you were behind.

Her dreams, the love she held, the friends she had.

It seems stupid now. It seems incredibly and gut-wrenchingly stupid that your last words to Marco were over two years ago because you were punishing him for something that wasn’t his fault. That you can’t go to any of them for comfort because the thing that they need comfort from is you.

All you know how to do is ruin people.

“Are you hungry? Or do you want to go to bed?” Eren asks.

“I can go to bed. Levi said air mattress?”

“Yeah, we’re all sleeping together in the loft upstairs.”

“We?” you ask.

“Mikasa and Jean are here. Ymir and Hisu, Bertholdt and Reiner, Connie and Sash. Everyone else should be getting in tomorrow.”

Eren pads towards the stairs and you awkwardly follow, crawling up the stairs behind him. You can hear the loud chatter of voices, talking over each other, as you try to catch the ends of their conversation.

“But where do they go when you pee?” Sasha asks.

“Fuck do you mean, where do they go?” Reiner says, voice incredulous.

“Like in the bowl? Because if you’re sitting on the toilet, they have to go somewhere?” Sasha repeats.

“Sasha. It’s almost one in the morning. Please stop talking about balls.” Ymir groans, earning a good amount of laughs from the group.

“Eren, tell them all to shut the fuck up.” Jean groans, forearm over his eyes as he and Mikasa roll around on their mattress.

Eren looks at you, eyes weary, before he turns to respond to them.

“Y/N’s here.”

They all peek their heads up, curious eyes falling on you, as you give them a halfhearted smile, trying your best to wipe your sweaty palms on the back of your dress.

“Hi guys.”

The silence is deafening. You can’t pick what’s worse - Reiner and Bertholdt squinting their eyes at you or Mikasa and Jean refusing to look at you.

Mikasa and Jean.

Historia stands up, strutting over from her air mattress, to wrap her arms around you, the pressure of the hug so hard you can barely breathe. You breathe in her smell, spicy and sharp the way it’s always been, as she pulls away. Her warm hand is resting on your cheek, the smile on her face so genuine that it untangles the smallest parts of discomfort on your chest.

“Hi princess. Missed you.”

“Thanks, Hisu. I missed you too.”

That’s always been the thing about Historia. That she’ll pick up, even when you haven’t called her in two years, and run to your aid.

“How’d you know we were here?” Jean asks, hands resting on his knees.

“I asked Historia.” you respond.

“Told you I was her favorite. She reached out to me before you.” Historia mutters, flopping back onto the air mattress she’s sharing with Ymir.

“You’re so arrogant, Historia. And full of shit.” Jean responds, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so right, Jean-Boy. This is just like what we fought about earlier.” Connie responds.

The group of them break out into an argument, Historia looking like she’s full on about to wrestle Connie as he only instigates her on. Mikasa’s already resting with her eyes closed as Jean turns pink in the face from his irritations.

And you can’t help but laugh, warm tingling in your chest at all of them, wholeheartedly the same. You look over at Eren and smile, which he returns. But despite it all, that stillness, that outsider feeling sits in your skin. Because despite them being the same, the striking differences in the room tell you things are wholeheartedly different too.

“Okay. Where’s the extra air mattress?” Eren asks.

Connie turns, eyes wide, as he gives the two of you a sheepish smile.

“Really funny story. Sooooo….”

“God. What did you do?” Eren groans.

“Long story short, I was thinking about waterbeds. If you pop a water bed, it should be like a waterfall right? So if it’s an air mattress, it should be like an inflatable air balloon thing. Like the weird noodle guys at the car store? Right? So, I tried to pop it. And succeeded.” Connie responds, rambling.

“Was it cool?” you ask.

“Ugh. Not at all, princess.” Connie responds.

You smile, perhaps bigger than you should at Connie using your old nickname, as Eren starts yelling at him.

“You should be the one to sleep on the floor since you’re the one who ruined the mattress.” Eren states.

“She should sleep on the floor. She got here last!” Connie responds.

“She just threw up. And she wasn’t going to sleep on the floor regardless.”

“Is she contagious?” Connie responds.

“Connie!”

Eren rolls his eyes as Mikasa stands up, shuffling to your side and lightly tugging your arm. You look at her, taking her shorter hair in, as you give her a smile.

“Hey. Want to go change? Your old clothes should still be here, don’t know how well they’ll fit.”

Eren breaks out of his conversation, leaning forward to where the two of you are talking, to interject.

“What’s mine is yours. Take mine if you need to.” he says, before returning in full flesh to the argument he’s having with Connie. You can tell they’re both joking from the way they’re trying not to laugh as you start to walk away.

The two of you quietly pad down the length to the two doors, directly across from each other, as you take in the scribbled signs switched. Your old room now reads Jean and Mikasa with Connie’s handwriting scribbled underneath inscribing please fuck quietly on the door. And consequently, Eren’s room now reads Eren and Y/N with Sasha’s handwriting scribbled underneath reading yall are fucked UP for this.

You turn to Mikasa and give her a weird look.

“Right. We’ve been here for a week, actually. Table reading season four stuff. Jean and I want to share a room so we moved all of his stuff to your room and your stuff to Eren’s room. We’ll put it back.” Mikasa states, pushing open the door to Eren’s room as she starts rummaging through your old drawers in the closet.

“No, no. It’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on you guys when you’re almost about to be newlyweds?” you ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, next year. And we just moved it because we thought you weren’t going to come back. And Eren didn’t want to toss your stuff and all.” she responds. She pulls out a shirt, most definitely from when you’re fifteen, as you both snicker at the size and she keeps digging.

You walk around Eren’s room, your room too now, as you eye all the boxes filled with your things, tangled in with Eren’s clothes lying around on every open surface. You take a seat at his desk as you start inspecting his little bulletin board, the pictures underneath the pins.

One of him, Lana, and Sukuna - the three of them smoldering at the camera. Eren and Connie smiling, Eren and a little kid with short curly hair, and two pictures of you. The first one is of you and him sleeping on set and the other is the two of you with Falco, both of you crouching down to his height and hugging him from behind.

And hanging around both of the pins are your friendship bracelets, which you take off the hooks to inspect.

So that’s where it went. In all of the fire of moving around so much, jumping from one place to another, you always thought you lost it. But you must have left it here all along.

You run your hands over the beads, yours and Eren’s names, as Mikasa gives you a head shake, indicating she didn’t find anything.

“S’okay. I’ll look through Eren’s stuff I guess.” you murmur.

Mikasa nods as she leans against Eren’s desk, hands crossed over her chest, as the silence hangs in between the two of you. She takes one of the bracelets from your hands, twisting the beads in her fingers, as you do the same with yours.

You find solace in the fact that Mikasa is still wearing her engagement ring - a constant in the sparring mix of changes you just witnessed in the room.

Connie sober. Ymir and Historia sharing a mattress. Eren and Connie getting along. Mikasa and Jean even tolerating being in the same room as Eren. In the same room as you. And the jarring absence of Marco.

“How are you?” Mikasa asks.

“Okay, Mika. How are you?”

Mikasa sinks down, sitting flat on the floor as she hikes her knees to her chest. You follow suit, dropping from your chair to sit next to her, lacing your arm through hers as you both blankly stare at the floor ahead of you, picking what topic to broach first.

I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in two years. Our friend is dead. Eren is here.

“The engagement party looked beautiful, Mikasa.”

She smiles, leaning her head against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N. It was quite nice actually.”

“I watched it on Vogue. Cried quite a bit.” you respond.

She laughs, rolling her eyes at you as she lightly shoves you.

“Should’ve come then. Cried in real time.”

You swallow hard, cheeks warm, as you squeeze her hand. You know she’s joking, but the guilt runs too deep.

“I’m sorry for not coming. I-I really wish I was there. And I know there’s no justification for it but-”

“We aren’t mad at you. Jean and I.” she clarifies.

“I’d understand if you were. I’m your best friend. I’ve-I’ve been with you guys since the start and-”

Mikasa’s hands are soft on your shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes, as she looks at you, eyes pinched in pain.

“You had every right to not come. To be done with this. What they did to you, to Eren- Y/N, god.”

You swallow hard.

“It didn’t warrant me not coming to you-”

“It did. You don’t even know the half of it. You-you and Eren. You just-”

There’s a knocking at the door and Eren pads in, eyes wide as he sees you and Mikasa on the floor, tears gathered in her eyes and your limbs tangled together.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back.”

“No, no. It’s okay, Eren. Her clothes are too small. I can go grab mine for her if you two want to talk-” her words pointed, the emphasis on the last words hard.

“No, don’t bother Mikasa.” he responds, disappearing into his closet to find a pair of clothes for you.

Mikasa turns back to you, giving your cheek a pinch.

“I’ll make Jean sleep on the floor if Connie doesn’t give up his mattress. It’ll be like old times.” she responds, shuffling out of the room as you stay on your spot on the floor.

You hike your knees to your chest as you twist the beads in your fingers again, Eren’s name that you used to wear on your wrist almost every day foreign in your fingers.

“Eren. We’re going to be late.” you groan, impatiently tapping your foot on the ground as you wait for him by the door.

The two of you are already thirty minutes late to Erwin’s going away party, the last car waiting to take the two of you, Marco, and Annie out to the little soiree that Erwin is throwing for himself - in celebration of him being killed off.

“Sorry, sorry. Looking for my bracelet.” he responds, darting back and forth from different corners of the room.

“Well, hurry up. Annie’s getting pissed.”

“I found yours! But where is mine?”

You look down at your wrist to find the pink beads on your wrist, spelling out your name against your pulse point in your wrist.

“Oops, sorry. I’m wearing yours.” you respond.

Eren’s quick to walk over to where you’re standing on the door - giving you enough time to groan at how haphazardly he got ready for the party. His tie is loose against his neck, hair all messy as you reach up to fix it.

“God, Eren. At least brush your hair.”

“Quit moving your hands.”

Eren takes his hand in yours, quickly sliding the bracelet off your wrist and switching it with the one in his hand.

“Well, get ready properly. Your tie isn’t even on right.” you respond, irritated as you reach forward to tighten the fabric and smooth down his collar.

“And if I told you I put it on wrong just so you would fix it, what would you think?”

“That you’re asking for a death sentence from Annie for wasting time.”

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to lift the hand he just placed the bracelet on. His thumb is straight against your pulse point, blood pulsating under the spot, as he lifts his hand to leave a kiss right there.

“And that it’s cute that you did that.”

He gives you a wide grin, locking your hands together as you both rush out the door.

Eren shuffles out, sitting across from you as he puts the stack of clothes between you and hikes his knees to his chest. He holds his hand out and you place the bracelet in his hand.

“You left it in the bathroom.”

You nod as you try to steady your mind - still running a hundred miles per hour and overstimulated from seeing everyone again. From how familiar it all feels, how easy it all is to fall back into this despite how different things are.

How you and Eren are miles apart, how you haven’t talked to them all in months, how Marco is dead. That Marco’s death is suspending all of you in a weird state of reality, that every angry word spoken and every bit of harshness seems miniscule now.

“Do you want me to leave?” Eren asks.

“No.” you shrug.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

Eren nods, counting each of the beads on the bracelet, as you both sit there in the silence, letting your eyes float around the room as you let your mind wander.

Marco and Colt playing chess everyday when he visited you in Canada, Marco falling for every stupid joke that Connie played on him, the way you all cried when Marco died in the show, Marco at the awards show.

“Eren?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

The question takes Eren off guard. He debates it then and there - telling you the truth full and whole - on the basis that he can’t handle the way you’re looking at him. At the fact that you even asked that, at the implication that you thought he could ever forget.

“Of course. On set, in the-”

“No, no. I mean, for real.”

“At the awards show.” Eren responds, without a beat.

“Yeah.”

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer, like he can’t get enough of you.

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other.

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit a murder.”

“You want me so bad.” you say, sarcastically.

“Obviously.”

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there’s like seven people who just watched you suck face. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard.

“I love you guys.”

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure whatever is going on, without Connie and and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.”

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch.

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.”

“Do you think he’s haunting us?”

Eren frowns, the memory refreshing in his head. One he thought of a few days ago, lingering on the fact that Marco’s probably turning in grave right now. Granted, Marco was very vehement about his stance on you two - your interview and what Eren did, making Marco so agonizingly and uncharacteristically angry that it bothers him now.

For not listening to him. That if he does ever get to cross that bridge with you, at least be your friend again, that Marco won’t ever know.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t just go out there and tell her. You know where she lives.” Marco states, irritated.

“Because I just can’t, Marco! You watched the interview!”

“The entire song was about how she forgave you. How she isn’t holding a grudge against you. And-and the way she was talking about it, some part of her knows that other people had something to do with this, Eren. She knows deep down.”

“The interview was fucking horrible. This entire thing, this thing that I did, fucked her up so bad that she isn’t even doing this anymore. This was all she wanted, ever since she was a kid, she-she was so determined and she gave it up because I said all those things, because I did what I did.”

“Eren. It’s more compl-”

“No, it’s not. And she fucking hates me. You should have seen how upset she was at the awards show…..I-I ruined it for her. I ruined her entire dream, Marco.”

“God, Eren. Your tunnel vision is insane. You’re not even giving her a fighting chance when she doesn’t even know the truth!” he says.

“Maybe haunting is too mean of a word. I think he’d be happy to see us together, right now. Even if the circumstances aren’t the best.” he responds.

You smile, giving him a nod.

“He always did like playing cupid, didn’t he?”

“At the engagement party, he walked around telling everyone that Jean and Mikasa were only dating because of him.”

“That’s a lie.” you state.

“No one believed him.” Eren responds.

The two of you fall into silence again, resting your chins on your knees, as more thoughts swim through your head, pain so palpable it’s sitting in your chest. That if Marco were here, he’d be prancing in and giving you two devious smirks, lovingly teasing both of you. Pulling both of you aside, saying that bygones should be bygones if you still love each other.

You look up at him, watch his eyes flutter open and close, as he fidgets with his hands.

You still love him.

“Can we be civil for the weekend? Like…like you’re not Eren and I’m not Y/N, we’re just-” you sutter.

Your question falls short, hanging in the air as you watch the gears in Eren’s head turn.

“I just mean. So many things happened between us. And I know there’s hurt there, on your part and maybe mine too, but…..I don’t want us to be mad at each other at the funeral. Or after.”

You swallow hard.

“I’d hate for one of us to die being mad at each other. Without having talked in years.” you whisper.

Eren gets it. The guilt that must be wracking you for not talking to Marco, when you were one of the people who was closest to him. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, as he fidgets with your fingers.

“He knows you loved him, Y/N.”

He watches the tears pour down your eyes, face pink and eyes swollen, as you talk.

“Did he? Because I ignored his texts. For years. He texted me happy birthday, asked how Falco was doing, wanted to know if I watched Halloweentown on October first like I always do, if I was happy, if I wanted to talk and-”

He squeezes your hand, pulling out his phone, as he scoots to the space next to you. He tries to still the pounding of his heart as you lace your arm through his, leaning your head against his.

“He knows, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I was with him. I talked to him quite often after….after everything that happened. I promise you, he knows you loved him.”

You shake your head, guilt sitting in your head.

“I have something for you.” he murmurs.

“What is it?”

“It’s from a few years ago. I think he was really, really drunk.”

He hands you his phone, open to a voicemail from Marco, as you wipe the tears on your phone and press play. His voice comes through the speaker booming and giggling and hiccuping as he talks.

“Eren. Eren! Fuck, I love you so much dude. You’re-you’re such a guy. Like I-I just see you and think hmmmm. That’s a guy. Are you with Y/N? Tell her I love her. She’s my best friend. You’re all my best friends. I’m so happy I got to grow up with all of you. Oh, Connie just threw up on the floor, oh Connie- hey, stop! Okay, love you brother, I have to go.”

The voice cuts off abruptly, as you laugh.

“Never could hold his drink, could he?”

“Not everyone can be alcoholics like Jean and Mikasa.”

You both laugh, chest aching from how familiar, how soft this feels. That you’re both sitting in this room, where you grew up, fell in love, slept next to each other every night. Eren can see the tears welling in your eyes, thinking of his best efforts to stop it, at whatever is plaguing your mind.

“So. You said you’re not Y/N and I’m not Eren. So who are we?” he asks.

“I meant that metaphorically, you’re-”

You watch Eren’s eyes flit around his room, scanning till he stops around his bookshelf, and turns back to glance at you.

“Your new name is Margaret.”

“Ew. And I didn’t mean it like that, Eren.”

“Who is Eren? My name is….” he responds, giving you a smile as he elongagates the syllables waiting for your response.

You roll your eyes.

“Bruce. Your name is Bruce.”

“Bruce Wayne!”

“No. Not like Bruce Wayne. Think of someone really boring. Irritating, agitating.”

“Perfect! I’ll just think of you after five shots of tequila.”

You both laugh as Eren stands up, holding a hand out to pull you up. He sets the stack of clothes in your hand as he makes a move to walk out of the room. Except he hangs on the door for a second, voice soft when he talks.

“Does Bruce have permission to say something?”

“Sure.”

“I know he technically just met Margaret because she was born a minute ago, but he missed her. A lot.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you give him a nod, murmuring a quiet me too before sinking into the bathroom to slip his clothes on.

Connie, does in fact, not give up the mattress. Jean and Eren begrudgingly share as you and Mikasa cuddle into the night.

You wake up first, to find Mikasa sprawled over your entire frame. Her entire body is burning hot and you send a silent prayer to the world's strongest soldier, Jean Kirschtein, for putting up with this for so long. After you all but free yourself from her grasp, you spare a quick glance to see Jean must be smothering Eren more than Mikasa was you and silently muse that the two of them truly are made for each other.

You pad down to the kitchen, yanking the hood of Eren’s hoodie over your head, to find Connie sitting at the table, scribbling away in a journal, a steaming bowl of oatmeal next to him.

“Good morning, Con.’”

He looks up, one of his hands going instinctively to cover what he was writing as you take the seat next to him, crossing your legs up on the chair. He immediately relaxes, giving you a bright smile.

“Good morning, princess. You can have some if you want.”

“No, no. I don’t want to impose.”

“What’s mine is yours.” he says, mimicking Eren’s voice.

You snort, reaching for his spoon, as you take a bite of the warm food, soothing the stiffness in your throat.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

“Mikasa basically strangled me all night.”

“Ew. Of course she has the cuddle bug. I swear, Jean and Mikasa were always goo goo ga ga, but they’re even worse now.”

“They’re getting married, Connie. It’s sweet.”

He smiles, sliding the string through the pages, as he turns to you giving you a smile.

“Yeah. It is sweet.” he responds, voice quiet.

Connie swallows hard, eyes weary as he turns to you.

“I want to apologize.” Connie says.

The elephant in the room. He’s the first one to touch it.

“Oh. That’s okay, I under-”

“No, no. It’s not okay.” he responds, tone almost harsh.

You and Armin share a look the second he breaks the frame, glass shattering over the length of Armin’s apartment.

“Why the fuck would you guys bring me here?” Connie asks, sweat beading his forehead.

From the way he’s moving, all erratic and nonsensical, it makes you think that it’s out of his system. That if Connie had a chance, this would be when he would sneak off to the bathroom to get his fix. But he’s nowhere near that, instead settled into Armin’s tiny New York apartment, screaming at the two of you.

“Connie. You asked us too.” you respond.

“I was fucking high! Why would you guys even entertain a word I said?” Connie states, voice even more agitated now.

“Connie. You…you need help. We looked at some rehab places while you were asleep and-”

“Rehab? I’m not going to rehab. Are you trying to ruin my fucking career, Armin?”

“No, but we want to make sure you’re okay. They’ll be discrete, we’ll make sure the security detail is good so that you can be better and-”

“I am fucking fine. Do I look like I need help?”

You and Armin share a weary glance, before looking back at him.

“Connie. We love you. We-we just want to help you, okay?” you say.

“Does it ever embarrass you when you do this, Y/N?” Connie says, voice laced with venom.

“Sorry?”

“Does you not think it’s embarrassing to beg like this in front of people who don’t fucking care about you the way you do about them? I figured that Eren putting you in your place like that would set you straight but it seems like you didn’t learn your lesson, did you?”

You swallow hard, eyes and skin burning as Connie waits for your response.

“You don’t mean that. You-you’re just mad because you can’t be high right now.” you murmur.

“Am I, Y/N? Or is it true?”

“It’s not true. This isn’t you, Connie.”

“God, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. We aren’t fifteen anymore. No ones sitting here holding your hand telling you that you’ll be the best anymore. I get that you need that ego boost to move forward but I sure as hell am not going to be the one to give it to you.”

“Connie, that’s enough-”

Connie swallows hard, eyes focused on his fingers as he talks.

“I know-I know that I said it wasn’t true. But I really did say all of those things because I was high. Or because I wanted to be high and was in withdrawal and-”

“I know that, Connie. I’ve never held it against you.”

He frowns, twisting his pen to his fingers.

“You always give grace even when you don’t know the whole story. Me, Hisu, Eren.” he murmurs.

“You deserve it…and I partially knew. I mean, addiction is a disease. It hurt at first but that wasn’t your fault. You just needed to be treated and helped and I’m glad you did.”

He smiles, resting his cheek against his hand.

“Thank you, Y/N. Don’t mind me if I spend the rest of my life asking for forgiveness. I won’t ever feel like I deserve it but I’ll keep asking anyway.” he murmurs.

“I’ll always give it to you.” you respond, squeezing his shoulder.

You silently wonder that if you ever did come back, sans funeral, if things would be like this. If you and Eren could pretend, if Mikasa and Jean could look past it all. Because some parts of it, they feel earnest, truthful. But you can’t tell if you’re all suspended in some disbelief, clouded by your grief and trying to cling onto one of the things Marco loved most. His time on the show, with you all.

“Honey when I’m above the trees, I SEE IT FOR WHAT IT IS.” Connie sings, screams.

“Oh my god, Connie.” you deadpan.

He’s singing happiness. Like the happiness you sang in your interview, when you forgave Eren.

“THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU. BUT THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOUUUU. BOTH OF THESE THINGS CAN BE TRUE, THERE IS HAPPINESS.”

You clamp your hand flat against his mouth, trying not to snicker, as he continues to sing underneath your hand.

“Are you insane? They’re all sleeping.” you whisper.

“Not anymore we’re not.” Ymir responds, immediately smacking Connie against the head.

“You’re going to give Eren a nightmare, Connie.” Historia mutters, dragging her feet into the kitchen as Ymir follows.

“I’m already living it.” Eren grumbles, leaning against the counter as he splits a PopTart with Jean.

Slowly but surely, every one of them shuffles down to the room, the deja vu of the situation hitting deep as each person follows suit. Sasha ambles down after a few minutes, finishing off the bowl of oatmeal that you and Connie were sharing while Reiner and Bertholdt murmur quietly over the coffee cup. Eren’s in hushed conversation with Jean and Mikasa, fixing himself breakfast, as Hange and Levi wander into the room, immediately thrown off by all of you in there.

“Jesus.” Levi says, tone exasperated.

“Good morning, Levi.” Mikasa says, gesturing to the water boiling on the kettle for his tea. He gives her a grateful smile, taking a seat in his corner as Hange talks to the group of you. Connie’s resorted to cracking all of your knuckles since his are all worn out as they go on.

“Good morning kiddos!”

“Don’t….do such a cheery voice, Hange.” Levi says, sighing.

Hange’s smile falters, before dropping all together, and giving a thoughtful nod. Eren shuffles over to your side, taking the seat next to yours as he places a steaming bowl of ramen in front of you.

“Oh. Thank you, Eren.”

“Who?”

You roll your eyes as Eren smiles, reaching forward to flick your cheek.

“Bruce.”

“Bruce, indeed.” he responds.

Eren knows he’s in treacherous waters. That this line you’ve drawn, that you’re not you and he’s not himself, works almost too well for Eren’s purposes. That he can pretend, in earnest, that none of the things he said happened. That you and him are just as you always were, untouched in the bubble you were always in when you lived here. .

“The funeral is tomorrow, as we all know. The Bodt’s have requested that we get there ten minutes before the service, so be on time tomorrow. Bertholdt, Sasha, I’m looking at both of you. ”

You all nod, humming in response, as you start digging into the bowl, switching off with Connie and Sasha who are both trying to monopolize the only real food in a five feet radius.

“That being said…” Hange says, swallowing hard.

They’re pacing back and forth almost, teetering on their ankles, when they talk. And when they finish explaining - autopsy report in hand and the gut punch sticking in your chest - you all sit there, blankly staring.

And wander in silence for the rest of the day.

It was one thing that Marco died. And an entirely different one that he was killed.

“Someone go get Eren, we only have thirty minutes.” Levi says, everyone lingering in the kitchen and the living room, in a sea of black.

Almost everyone is here now - Erwin, Armin, even Eren’s parents - all lingering around as you wait to head to the funeral. You give a curt nod to Levi and march out to the pavement, pebbles crunching under your feet as you make your way to set.

Eren’s been in there since last night, never retreating to the room to change into his pajamas before he settled down on the couch downstairs. Despite your protests, he refuses to sleep in the same room as you. Or let you sleep anywhere else besides Jean’s old bed in his room.

You let the pebbles crunch under your feet, ignoring the sting as you pass the tandem bike, and slip onto the set. You can see new costumes designs printed against the walls, storyboards with Levi and Hange’s handwriting on them as you make your way to the back towards the piano.

When you see him, that rage, simmering warm in your stomach over the past twenty-four hours, the deep-seated pain of Marco dying alone, crying out for help, comes to a head when you see Eren. Because he’s sitting at the bench, with his book propped up against the stand, and a bottle of pills in his hands.

You march up to where he’s standing, crossing your hands across your chest as you all but glare at him.

“Oh. Hey, you look-”

“Are you serious?”

You watch his face scrunch up in confusion, that stupid look on his face aggravating you even more. His tie is unkempt, his hair is messy - he’s always so haphazard with these things.

“You’re doing pills in here before Marco’s funeral. Are you fucking serious?”

He looks down, at the bottle in his hand and stands up, and swallows hard when he looks at you.

“Wait-”

“No. No, for once, you’re going to listen to me. You-you’re sick. Marco’s dead. You can’t even give it to him to be fully there while we say goodbye? This means that much to you?” you spit, watching him shut his eyes.

“Y/N.”

“How could you do this? To him? To me?”

He reaches forward, hands on your shoulders as he squeezes, and your eyes burn like acid. And every feeling, building up over the past few days, comes tumbling out.

“Why did he have to leave us, Eren? We didn’t get enough time with him. He was only twenty-four, he didn't even get to grow old. He was supposed to die, years from now, so happy, so-so surrounded by people he loved.”

Eren forgoes the rational thought. He reaches forward fully, snaking his arms around you as he cradles your head into his frame, trying his best to stifle your cries into his shoulder.

“And you. He would hate that you were doing this. I hate that you’re doing this. You-you don’t have to. There are other things that can make you happy or-or fix whatever it is that’s wrong.”

“Y/N.”

“What, Eren?”

He pulls back, reaching for the pill bottle, and placing it in the palm of your hand. You read the label, immediately embarrassed and ashamed of your reaction.

Eren Jaeger *Lexapro 5 mg Take one tablet by mouth with the morning meal.

“Oh my god, Eren. I’m so sorry, I-”

You pull back, sitting down on the bench, as you dig your fingers into your temples, trying to stop that pulsating feeling under your skin. The rage, the feeling, coursing through you so hard that you can’t even pick what you’re mad at.

You’re breathing panic in and out, chest heaving, as Eren takes a seat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. And the feeling, it lands on feeling overwhelmingly embarrassed. Because Eren’s not doing drugs, he’s taking anti-anxiety pills.

“Eren. I’m so sorry. That was so horrible of me, I thought it was-”

“You thought it was like Connie.” he finishes

“Yeah. And I’m sorry for assuming, I just-”

“I’m not mad at you. You were just trying to take care of me. I appreciate it.”

You groan, embarrassment still coursing through you, as you lean your forehead straight against the piano, the smell of the ink on Eren’s book permeating your nose.

“Do you remember that birthday party of mine I told you about? When I was ten, at my old house in New York? It was when we were in Australia.”

You nod.

“I remember feeling it. A paralyzing block in my chest, like I couldn’t move. And when I was able to move, it was only because it all came rushing to me, so panicked, so fast that I-I didn’t even register what happened.”

He was barely even ten. You lift your hands to his shoulders, squeezing hard, as he continues.

You’re here and you’ve got him.

“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that people feel this way, that it’s normal, but I just felt too much of it. That I just can’t handle things the way normal people do.”

You frown, reaching up to cup the side of his face. Your fingers brush over his dimples, soft under your fingers, as you talk.

“Eren. There is nothing wrong with you. That’s just an anxiety attack.” you whisper.

You’re not sure what it is about what you said but when you look up, there are soft tears flowing down Eren’s cheek, the voice coming out of his mouth so garbled you can barely understand what he’s saying.

“Hey, Eren.” you whisper,

“No. No, no. Stop.”

Eren stands up, retreating to the other side of the piano, where he’s leaning over, his entire frame heaving up and down as you walk to his side.

“Why are you-”

“I don’t want you to help me. You shouldn’t be helping me.” he says, his voice shuddering.

“Why not?” you ask, frowning.

“I’ve been horrible to you. I don’t deserve your help. You-you should be cussing me out, so mad that you can’t stand me, that you want me to suffer and you’re not. And it’s agonizing for me that you aren’t.”

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, as you feel him sigh. You lean your cheek flat against his shoulder, squeezing as hard as you can as Eren continues to cry, fists clenched so tight on the piano that white.

“You’re not you and I’m not me. We agreed on that.” you murmur.

“Y/N. We can’t-”

“Who?”

He snickers, amidst his tears, as he turns around, and you slot your arms under his. You can feel his heart thumping under your ear, loud and fast, as you place your hand over the spot. The two of you stay that way for some time, Eren's tears falling onto you, as you try your best to remedy whatever it is that's burning inside of him.

“Just calm down and breathe. Falco says it always helps to talk about something else, when he feels like this.”

He tenses at the mention of Falco, which you realize was a mistake.

“Why were you in here?” you ask.

“The Bodt’s asked me to write a song for the service.”

The perfect distraction.

“Can you sing it for me?” you ask.

He looks down, green eyes - full and round - as he nods, shuffling towards the piano bench as you take the seat next to him. You can see that the lyrics are scribbled on the book resting against the stand, the paper stiff from blotches of Eren’s tears. He starts playing the piano, his voice echoing on the walls of the set.

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were talking to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, you're alive in my head What died didn't stay dead What died didn't stay dead You're alive, so alive

You rest your hands against the keys next to his, slowly following his pace, as he continues to sing, the hum of his voice filling the air. You can’t help but think it. That he’s beautiful. That this is your Eren, miles away from whoever he was when you saw him last.

I should've asked you questions I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

You can feel the tears flowing down your cheeks now, straight onto the piano keys and your hands, as you cry.

And if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now If I didn't know better I'd think you were still around I know better But I still feel you all around I know better But you're still around

When you and Eren get to the service, you walk hand in hand to the piano. And play the song together, for Marco and Marco only.

You knock on the door, padding into the room to find Levi, hunched over his computer and leaning his hand on his cheek. You take the seat next to him, crossing your legs against the chair, as he looks over at you, expressionless.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” you say.

Four days after the funeral and all of them have cleared out. Forced to go back to wherever they were before, to push down the beating pain and move forward. The grief, perhaps it did suspend reality for the rest of you. Leave you to pretend that nothing that happened was real, that you were still teenagers running around on this set together.

That wasn’t how it was for Levi. Because in almost a week of being there, he had yet to talk to you with a straight face.

“What are you working on, Levi?” you ask, cracking your knuckles.

He turns the laptop towards you, one of the old hard drives from the earlier seasons pulled up on his computer. He plays the video, one of Jean sitting in a chair behind the green backdrop.

“Okay, Jean. Tell me your goal for the end of the show.” Levi asks.

The video, Jean must be barely sixteen, wearing one of the old costumes from season one. You remember now, that Hange was insistent on documenting everything - that you all were going to grow up so fast that they should keep videos. Obviously, Hange is too disorganized to do it themselves, so Levi bit the bullet and did it for them.

“I don’t know. That’s so far away, Levi.” he groans, scrunching up his forehead.

“Just answer, Jean. Where do you see yourself at the end of the show, when you’re in your twenties?”

“With Mikasa.” he responds.

You both smile as Levi switches to the next videos, the two of you watching all of them in silence.

“I want to be myself. That’s all I want to be, not embarrassed or ashamed, I-I just want to be me.” Historia says, smiling into the camera.

“I don’t know. That’s a weird question, Levi.” Mikasa grumbles, glaring at him.

“You’re horrible, Mikasa. Jean said he wants to be with you.” Levi responds.

“Well, that’s a given. Of course, I’m going to be with Jean.” she responds, giving one last eye roll to the camera.

“Doing something important. That means something to people.” Connie responds.

You swallow hard, as you see Eren, fifteen and so smiley, as he crawlsl onto the little stool.

“My turn?” Eren asks, giving Levi a bright smile.

“Yes, kid. Your turn. Why else would you be sitting here?”

“Okay. This is a secret so don’t tell anyone.” he says.

“I’m not broadcasting to a news channel, Eren. Just hurry up, I still have to get through half of you.”

Eren nods, reaching up to fix his hair, before he talks - his voice filled with that confident resolve, that one he always sported when he was fifteen.

“I want to get the Best Actor in a Lead role award. And on the same night, I want Y/N to become a triple threat. And then I want us to tell her that I told her so. Me and her, at the top.” he says, giving the camera a bright smile, before jumping off.

The next one is of you, what you said being entirely lost to you in your memories.

“What do I want to do when I'm in my twenties? Hm.” you echo.

“Today would be nice.” Levi deadpans.

“Well, I don’t know! That’s so broad. I want to be doing stuff like this. Acting, making music, To have people enjoy the work I make, and making it with my friends, like Eren and Mikasa and Armin. I want to be here, more than anything. It feels so right to me, that I get to do this. It’s special, it’s a privilege and I’m really thankful I get to do it.”

“Note to anyone watching. This is one of our only kids with manners.” Levi says, setting the camera down to give you a hug.

You bite down on your cheek, looking over at Levi, as he plays the last one. Of Marco.

“Okay, Marco. What do you want to do when you’re in your twenties?”

“Well. I know what I’m going to be doing.” Marco says, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“See. Spoiler alert, but Hange and Levi just killed me off this show. But we made a deal. That I get to be in each season, even if its a super minor role like a flashback or whatever. So in my twenties, I’ll be here. Surrounded by all my childhood best friends, making this show that’s always meant so much to us.”

You swallow hard as Levi wraps his arms around you, the two of you watching Marco’s smiley face disappear from the screen.

“So I’ll see you in four months? For season four?”

“Damn right you will.” you respond.

And for the first time in a week, Levi breaks a smile.

“Good.”

next part linked here

an, again: SEASON FOUR ERA (this shit abt to be so awkward when they're not all sad/grieving )

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly-y-blog @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

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evaglass · 2 months

Text

Speculation about Mizu's parents pt. 4

Going back to the story of the Ronin and the Bride

This is official concept art, I believe. Look at the blue eyes, then specifically look at the baby, and the blanket the baby is wrapped around her. That blanket is seen somewhere else.

It looks like the blanket baby Mizu had laying below her

It's also seen again in a flashback when Mizu is a child and also used as her belt throughout the show.

Remember when I said that the Ronin and Bride could also represent her parents. Using the connections with the films that influenced the show, as well as hints of foreshadowing, I believe Mizu's mother found out she was pregnant, probably tried to run away to raise Mizu in safety (like the Bride in Kill Bill), realized that finding safety for both her and Mizu might take more time than she thought, left Mizu in the care the maid, during that time her actual mother was found and killed by one of the white men like Fowler stated before she could ever reunite with Mizu.

I also have a hunch that Mizu's biological mother died the same night Mizu's childhood home went up in flames, and she was left to survive on the streets. It would make the scene where Mizu is a child swearing to her 'mother' that she'll avenge them. Of course, Mizu was referring to the maid, who later turned out to survive that night, but then her quest for vengance later shifted to the reason being of her existence as a 'monster'.

I also believe the blue eyes of the Bride from the puppet show when she comes back as an Onryo are supposed to represent Mizu's mother's eyes as well, and that she got her blue eyes from her mother. Like Yuki, Mizu could be a representation of her mother's need for vengance after death.

Why? Well, because, as I said earlier, she could have tried to run away and find the best opportunity to leave Japan unnoticed (like how Beatrix tried to run away with her unborn daughter), but eventually was found and killed. So, her rage lives on through Mizu because her mother was taken away from her, was stripped of the chance to raise her, to be there when she was scared, lonely, or sad, to see all her milestones, to let her know that she loves her, etc.

Mizu could be a representation of her mother's rage beyond the grave, and she doesn't even know it

When Fowler finds out Mizu is actually a woman, he knows exactly who she is. That she was raised in hiding, that she had a maid raise her, that there's a high bounty for her.

I don't think Fowler laughed at the fact that Mizu is a woman, I think he might have laughed because he finds the situation ironic. He knows that Mizu is out for vengance because she's mad about her existence; that a white man, who brought pain to many people with his three fellow white men, impregnated her Japanese mother, causing her to be born a 'monster', and costing her the ability to live a normal life.

Fowler found out Mizu wants all her potential white fathers dead before he even found out she's a woman. After finding out Mizu is a woman, a specific woman too, he laughs because maybe he knows none of the white men are her father because it's mother who was the European one, and she's going through all that trouble only for the white person responsible for her existence to already be dead.

So if that's the case, why didn't Fowler just tell her? Well, do you honestly think Mizu would believe him? If anything, she could have seen the potential reveal of her mother being the European as getting him, Skeffington, and Routley to dodge responsibility. Fowler is a shitty person, but he's not stupid. Mizu is also a bit hot-headed, she probably would have definitely killed him if he revealed something like that.

Fowler knows Mizu being mixed-raced is a big insecurity for her and has proven to her that she will do anything to kill the people responsible for it. Fowler not telling her, could possibly be for the reason of simply buying himself time because him telling her she won't find Routley and Skeffington without him gives him the chance to find away to escape when they arrive at the British Isles.

Now, there's the question of who could be Mizu's father. I'll explain in part 5 (I know this already long, but I'm almost done)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

#blue eye samurai #bes #mizu #blue eye samurai theory #abijah fowler

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aeithalian · 10 months

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Hermes: the ultimate middle child

And now for the other promised meta!

There was a great discussion on the TOA discord earlier that I got the chance to read once it was over that was basically exactly what I wanted to talk about - Hermes as a character and how he is very subtly contrasted with Apollo in multiple ways.

First, for a curiosity I've had ever since I finished TON. We learn several very interesting things about Hermes in the scene when Apollo returns to the Council:

He initiated the bets on Apollo's success (and then has the nerve to say he was worried about Apollo)

He bet against Apollo (and it was enough money to make him look visibly upset by the loss)

He was not among the gods who looked happy at Zeus' proclamation of Apollo's success (Artemis makes sense for being happy, Dionysus makes sense for not, but Hermes is supposedly a close brother figure in the myths, so what gives?)

He immediately suggested that Apollo cause outright harm to some mortals with his renewed power, despite displaying no such malice in his previous appearances

There is an interesting play of contrast here when you look at Hermes' other notable scene in the Riordanverse - his conversation with Percy at the end of TLO.

Hermes is generally portrayed as much more serious right here. He's grieving Luke's death at this point, but Hermes knew that was coming, and this demeanor is consistent with his other appearances up until this point: put-together, down-to-business, pragmatic, and so on.

This doesn't seem like the same person we see at the end of TON: making jokes, placing bets, and the like. And THEN you go back to the myths and the Hermes there seems much more similar to the one we meet in TON.

My point being, there is a very obvious disconnect here between who Hermes used to be, who he is now, and who he is pretending to be.

And it has a lot to do with Zeus, and as a result, Apollo.

I think there's a twofold reason for this dichotomy: one, Hermes and Apollo have fundamentally contradictory views on both fate and change which have larger implications for Hermes' overall morality; and two, Hermes resents Apollo for being Zeus' favorite when Apollo probably doesn't deserve it (or Hermes believes he deserves it more).

Part I: Fate and Change

I'd like to go back to that conversation between Percy and Hermes at the end of The Last Olympian. The entire conversation is so strange to me: here's a sixteen-year-old who has never had a positive father figure in his life (save Paul, who is still a recent addition to his family at this point) trying to comfort a 4,000-year-old god that he's not a bad father:

"I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

The main point of that conversation comes from Hermes' response to Percy's statement. To paraphrase, Hermes says 'I couldn't have saved Luke, it's against the laws and I can't defy the fates. I loved him, yes, but I couldn't save him. Those laws aren't going to change anytime soon, and neither are the gods.'

What we get from this conversation is this: Hermes was resigned to being unable to help Luke because he views the future as inevitable and the Fates as all-powerful (as does Zeus). He also doesn't believe that gods can change in the ways Percy wants them to; he scoffs at the idea that Percy's proposed changes will be permanent:

"No one can tamper with fate, Percy. Not even a god."

and then:

He laughed. "After three thousand years, you think gods can change their nature?"

To Hermes? Fate is inevitable and the gods can't change.

On the other hand, to Apollo? The future is behind any number of unlocked doors, and the only thing stopping the gods from changing are themselves:

[Regarding Frank burning his stick in TTT] "Frank went into that tunnel knowing he might die. He willingly sacrificed himself for a noble cause. In doing so, he broke free of his own fate. By burning his own tinder, he kind of... I don't know, started a new fire with it. He's in charge of his own destiny now."

Frank broke free of his fate, and the way Apollo talks about it indicates that he believes that such things are certainly possible.

And this:

[After regaining his godhood in TON] I could only try to be different from [Zeus]. Better. More... human.

Apollo intends to change the way he acts now that he is returned to Olympus, and has the support of everyone else who noted that he has already grown as a person: Jason, Sally, Will, Reyna, and so many more.

I feel like Hermes has always felt that he has the excuse of being a god when Percy asks him to do better for the sake of Luke's memory: "We gods have never been very good at keeping oaths." and "Eventually we'll become forgetful. We always do." and generally lots of other sentiments that give the impression that he believes that failure to do right by mortals is inevitable for gods. He's been so used to thinking that Luke was resigned to his fate from the very beginning, and that Hermes was never capable of changing it. Hermes didn't fail because he didn't try to succeed.

But Apollo ruins that for him when he returns - Apollo has not and will not let that same excuse stop him, and now Hermes is losing the only reason he had for not helping Luke. If Hermes is right, that gods can never help their mortal children and Luke was born to die at Kronos' hand, it was excusable for Hermes to turn his back on his own son. But if Apollo is right that gods can change and you can shape your own destiny, then it was Hermes and his inaction that killed Luke, not Kronos.

And we know that Apollo is right. Apollo did defy his fate. Apollo did change. And Hermes saw it all from the safety of his throne on Olympus.

Which means that Hermes was always wrong, and he knows it now. Hermes says that not helping Luke was the hardest thing he's ever done, because it would have amounted to nothing. Hermes thought he was completely incapable of helping Luke, but Apollo is living proof that he could have.

So now, Apollo is a daily reminder that Hermes failed Luke. Every day.

That would be enough to drive a wedge between any two people, much less two gods. And I don't think Apollo would ever truly realize that this is the case, so one day, Hermes is going to break, and Apollo will be left blindsided.

It only makes sense that Hermes might have some very heavy clown makeup on when we see him at the end of TON. I can't speak for him when we talk about the gambling, but I bet it's because Hermes, like he did with Luke, thought that Apollo would be resigned to his death the very moment Delphi-Python said that "Apollo will fall". And the fact that Apollo survived against all the odds (and seemingly against the Fates themselves) is just another smack to the face. I believe his behavior and comments in this scene are him lashing out in anger and frustration at the solid fact of the matter; that Hermes failed his own family, which is something he values to no end.

That's got to suck.

But now I think we have to closely examine why Hermes believes those things. Hermes has been brainwashed in a sense to believe that he can't defy fate and can't change. By who, then?

Do I really need to answer that? You have a brain. It's obvious, isn't it?

Part II: The fight to be the golden child

Let's rewind a bit, shall we?

The entire discussion had over on discord was started with talking about the potentials of Apollo's relationships with Ares and the rest of his siblings, then someone (I believe it was @fearlessinger, along with some very valid points made by uke) said this:

...but Ares, who was always the least favored of Zeus's children, the family's scapegoat, and who gave up on trying to get on Zeus's good side basically as soon as he was born and deemed a failure… he of all ppl would actually have no reason to resent Apollo for his success, nor for throwing away that success

To which I replied:

so i wonder then who has the reason to resent Apollo the most?... it’s probably a son, because they’re the ones who have to fight the most for Zeus’ approval ... maybe Hermes? because he’s never really done anything wrong and still doesn’t receive the title he deserves ...

To summarize: Apollo was the golden child, and used to be Zeus' favorite. We are certain he faces a lot of resentment for this fact (he admits to it himself), and Hermes definitely fits the bill.

Think about it.

Besides Luke, what has Hermes ever done that would put him out of the running for golden child? He's useful, talented, powerful enough to be on the Council, and despite being a god of liars and thieves, is work-driven enough that his father still trusts him. Even in the myths, he's clever in a very Zeus-y way.

Apollo, on the other hand, acts like a complete and utter fool pre-trials. He's vain, self-centered, and shallow. He's a chronic attention-seeker, and, in the myths tried to overthrow Zeus, and had angered him to the point of turning him mortal, not once, but twice. So what gives? Why is Apollo the favorite son, and not Hermes?

Honestly, I couldn't say, besides vague suggestions that it's because Zeus likes the idea of having the powerful and popular son as a favorite, rather than the less noticeable behind-the-scenes son. But who knows how Zeus and his favoritism work. Apollo doesn't, and I don't think Hermes does either.

I rather think Hermes is, as I said in the title, the ultimate middle child. Overlooked by his father in favor of his siblings, whether they be rebellious (Apollo), perfect in every way (Athena or Artemis) or just plain failures (Ares or Dionysus). In comparison, Hermes is invisible, having never done anything to make him stand out in the eyes of his father, nor having done anything that deserves a strict punishment. Nothing worthy of attention.

I've seen people wonder why Hermes never suffered the same consequences for Luke's actions in the way Apollo did for Octavian. But that's because Hermes never broke Zeus' fundamental law: do not interact with your mortal children.

The problems Octavian caused were supposedly because Apollo defied Zeus and created a forbidden connection with his legacy.

On the other hand, the problems Luke caused were because Hermes obeyed Zeus to the letter.

Why would Zeus punish Hermes for being obedient? And why wouldn't Zeus punish Apollo for breaking the 'ancient laws'?

Arguably, Hermes is Zeus' best behaved child (which is ironic, considering a few notable domains of his). Hermes is one of a trend that we see a lot with toxic parents who don't give attention and approval freely - Hermes and Apollo are on opposite sides of this spectrum. Apollo in the past has acted out in order to gain attention, whereas Hermes has glued himself to Zeus' side in an attempt to be perfect.

And this perfection includes indoctrinating into Zeus' belief systems and fears. Zeus fears the inevitability of fate. So does Hermes. Zeus refuses to let the gods change. So Hermes believes change impossible. Zeus says that you may not have contact with your mortal children. And although to Hermes this is the hardest of all, he turns his back on Luke.

And yet, 'golden child' is still not his title to claim. That rests with Apollo, still, who has not met Zeus' standards, openly rejects Zeus' belief systems, and yet continues to rise above the rest.

That is the formula for a deteriorating relationship between brothers: Apollo's mere existence being an everyday reminder to Hermes that he is a failure both to his son and to his father.

Everyone say hello to our old friend resentment.

Now, I'm not necessarily saying that Hermes and Apollo's relationship is inherently negative. But there's a lot of reason for there to be some contention coming from Hermes (and I didn't even touch on May Castellan - basically, I think Apollo refused to oversee her attempt to become the next Oracle because he knew it wouldn't work, which is why he wasn't present for May's attempt, but was for Rachel's; later on, Hermes could start seeing Apollo's domain and subsequent absence as the thing that drove her mad).

We don't have a lot of hints for whether or not he plans to act on those feelings of resentment. But they're there. And in a new, post-trials Olympus, they're going to come to light sooner or later.

Because Percy was right.

"I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

That's exactly what happened. And because of Apollo, Hermes now knows it.

(a list of my other metas if you'd like to read)

And a very special shoutout to @firealder2005 for writing this absolutely gut-wrenching and angsty but super cool fic based around this very idea that i am absolutely in love with and everyone should go read it ❤️

#toa #riordanverse #trials of apollo #apollogists #pjo #lester papadopoulos #hermes #greek mythology #pjo hermes #toa hermes #toa apollo #pjo apollo #the last olympian #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa

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the-oblivious-writer · 10 months

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Pretty Girl |3|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Three: Unspoken Words

Summary: You and Tara have been avoiding each other for a while now until you decide enough is enough

Warning(s): Swearing, R can be just as confusing as Tara sometimes and oh so stupid & avoiding confrontation

Notes: Chad's the best wingman out there and that's canon, I hope this doesn't feel rushed. Past few days have been a bit busy but I'm glad I was able to get this out for you all! This series isn't over just yet

Previous Part|Next Part

It. Had. Been. Fucking. Weeks. You and Tara were still not talking. Geez you two were so stubborn. It was frustrating. At least it was for her friends. Tara would talk about you constantly which would make it even more frustrating for the people around her.

Buying a drink? Y/N would like that

Watching a movie? Y/N loves this part

They needed you two to talk or else it was going to be the death of them. You were still not sure how to approach the whole thing. You definitely didn’t want to be the first to give in but you also couldn’t stand the distance. You missed her but no way could you admit that.

Either she was going to give in or neither of you would ever talk again it seems. That was until you found yourself knocking on the younger Carpenter’s window.

Tara hadn’t gotten a message from you in weeks so you best believe when she saw your contact name appear on her phone she scrambled to get it.

‘open your window’

Tara furrowed her eyebrows before turning to her window and seeing you outside. You gave a slight wave and gestured for her to open the window. She took out her headphones and did as asked. When you climbed in she stared you down. It was confusing, part of her knew exactly what to say and the other didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” Was all she managed to get out. This caused you to let out a frustrated huff. She was acting as if you weren't totally ignoring each other for weeks!

“Just popping by. Was in the neighborhood so why not, right? Oh and while I’m here just wondering..what the actual fuck, Carpenter?” You catch Tara off guard, she definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Excuse me?” You let out a laugh to her response before replying, you couldn’t believe her right now.

“You heard me. How about we start off with that blow up from three weeks ago. What was that? Cause I’d really like to know” You cross your arms waiting for a response from the shorter girl.

She fiddled with her hands while trying to find her words. “I’m- sorry” Tara irritatedly sighed, being the first to give in. Her gaze met the floor so she didn’t see your amused smile. Tara took a seat on her bed and crossed her legs, still avoiding your stare.

“Still doesn’t answer my question but I’ll take it. And uh I guess I’m sorry too” You take a seat next to Tara, your hand lands in a spot that’s less than an inch away from hers.

“You weren’t the only one being a stubborn ass. The phone works both ways” She gives a small smile and finally looks up at you.

“How about a truce?” You propose. “A truce?” Tara repeats.

“Correct, a truce. Next time we get into an argument-”

“I don’t want there to be a next time..” Tara interrupts, saying it so low as if she was scared for you to hear you.

“We’re human Tara, it’s bound to happen again” Your hand lays on Tara’s in an attempt to comfort her. “But how about when it does, next time we won’t just ignore each other for weeks at a time. We can give each other room but..” You look down,”That was too much room, Tar.”

She looks at you in understanding and nods followed by an “ok.” Tara rubs your hand, signaling for you to look back at her. The Carpenter smiled when you finally met her gaze.

You both stared at each other, her eyes fell to your lips as yours did the same to her. “I never told you why I lashed out that night” Tara started as you both slowly leaned closer.

“Oh yeah? And what about it” Tara tilted her head and leaned in closer, your lips were so close to touching. All you had to do was-

The door slammed wide open. “Tara! Check it ou- Oh sorry did I interrupt something?” Chad asked genuinely with a Nintendo switch in his hand. He had no idea you were even here. He thought Tara was just in here studying with her headphones in.

You and Tara had pulled away from each other quickly and shook your heads. “Nope we were just talking, what’s up?” Chad had finally finished the level he and Ethan have been trying to beat for months! You liked Chad. He was a cool dude and you even hung out with him sometimes.

You talked about a few things, Mario kart, football, Spider-man and the occasional random shit. He was also a pretty good wingman. But unfortunately he was as oblivious as you could be sometimes. A girl was flirting with you? Sure, go for it dude. A guy wanted to get to know you? That’s awesome!

He’s the hype man everybody needs in life but he’d get so caught up in it that he didn’t notice the glares Tara sent him. Still confused as to why Mindy hit him in the shoulder when things like this happened. What’s wrong with being a supportive wingman?

Mindy and Anika really need to sit him down and have him filled in on the two love birds. Even Ethan knew!

—

A couple days have passed and you end up hanging out with Tara and her friends. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little nervous. You mostly just talked with Chad and sometimes Ethan since they were a package deal. Anika seemed nice but you were still nervous because you haven’t really talked much so you weren’t sure what she thought of you.

Then there was her girlfriend, Mindy. Twin sister of Chad and much more intimidating. On the outside it should’ve been the opposite of that but for some reason you just got the hunch she didn’t like you. You knew she was a protective friend but you couldn’t help but wonder how that persuaded her thoughts of you.

You were all sitting comfortably in the living room with a show playing, Tara on the couch while you laid between her legs. Your back faced her as you laid against her chest, her legs wrapped around you as she gently played with your hair. Pretty cozy for a couple of friends.

“So,” Mindy spoke up. “You two made up?” Anika gave Mindy a look but the twin just shrugged.

“Yeah. We’re good now” Tara answered so you wouldn’t have to. Mindy hummed in response. You and Tara weren’t one hundred percent sure where she was going with this but you knew she wasn’t done.

Before Mindy could interrogate any further your phone rang. “Who is it?” Tara asked curiously, you lifted it slightly to see who it was before turning off the ringer. “No one important. Just going to let it ring.” Tara replied with an unconvinced hum but didn’t press any further.

Sam entered the apartment with take out in hand, “Hey guys.” Everybody responded with ‘Heys’ and ‘Hi’s’ before she sat the food down. “Got some food on my way home so eat up. I’m gonna head out in a few” Sam said before walking to her room. Okay..that was strange. She only sent a single glare and no snarky comment about you being over.

Must be warming up to me or just really tired you thought. Tara looked down to you, not wanting to move out of her current position. Oh how the turned tables. “Are you going to eat something?” She eventually asked. You only shook your head and continued to stare at the TV. She could wait to eat, she didn’t mind. Tara had gotten too used to you being in her arms. It gave her a feeling of warmth that was too good to let go of just yet.

The two of you made up and you were finally back in her arms. Everything was back to the way it was before. Nothing could ruin this.

An hour had passed and you fell asleep on Tara, not that she was complaining. She held onto you and enjoyed having you there in her arms. Suddenly you start to open your eyes as you slowly start waking up.

“What time is it?” You ask tiredly while rubbing your eyes. “Eight forty-two” Ethan responded, causing you to scramble out of Tara’s arms. The action caused the younger Carpenter to furrow her eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong?” Tara asked, her tone laced with a bit of worry.

“I’m late for a date but we’ll do a rain check!” You reply before rushing out the door leaving Tara to process what you just said.

“What the actual fu-”

You had a what?!

-----------

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #scream

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shutupineedtothink · 7 months

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I’m still s h o o k that people do not see exactly what’s going on with Moiraine throughout s2 and people are dragging her and dismissing her without an ounce of empathy for what she’s been through, so I’m bringing the full character analysis for y’all (and my own sanity). So this is a big ol in defense of Moiraine (and Lan) rant, so if that’s not your thing, scroll down now. Here we go.

I just… The AUDACITY some people have to look at Moiraine and be angry and pissed off at how she acts in S2. To not feel any sympathy and empathy for her and the monumental weight she’s under every goddamn day. There’s a reason we start with that bath scene in 2x01 – it shows you everything. How she’s just going through the motions. How she only lets herself cry when she’s alone in the water. How she literally curls into the fetal position and looks reproachfully devastated over her knees as she hugs them to her chest in a futile attempt at comfort. Not to mention the direct comparison/callback with the bath scene in 1x01, where she has both her power and Lan still, and now she’s lost her connection to both of them.

How is it not painfully obvious that every interaction she has after that bath scene is infused with a trauma response? Let’s tally up the devastation she’s been through. At the end of S1, she was 1. banished from the sisterhood of the white tower (they literally turned their backs on her), 2. was separated AGAIN from the love of her life fully expecting to never see her again, 3. was cut off from the other love of her life (that would be Lan, for the record) which is all the worse bc it’s her own fault for masking the bond, 4. was fully made to believe she’s been stilled from the one power aka an integral part of her being, AND 5. she’s “failed” her mission at the eye of the world – the one goal she’s had for the last 20 years, her life’s purpose – because instead of locking away the dark one she’s directly caused Rand to set Ishamael free.

You don’t think it's justified to be a little pissed off and standoffish after all of that? You don’t think the weight of that guilt, grief, pain, and loss is a reasonable cause to be distant, cold, harsh, having a little bit of a death wish? That’s TRAUMA, baby! She is absolutely wrecked, and it’s coming out in the worst way in her interactions with others (especially Lan because we’ve seen how they should be), but it’s absolutely not because she actively wants to hurt the people around her. In fact after almost every moment she lashes out at someone, we see an equally sad/grief-stricken/devastated moment from her and THAT’S the real emotion hiding underneath the anger. This woman needs therapy and understanding and patience, and does not deserve to be judged at the worst time of her life.

Ok fine, you say, but Lan IS patient and understanding with her! And she’s still an asshole to him! You’re right, Lan is absolutely trying his best and doing just about everything he can to be there for her in 2x01/2x02 (with a little help from Verin and Tomas). But 1. It’s STILL not about him, Moiraine is not obligated to respond in a certain way to her grief and pain that makes him feel better, and 2. This is Moiraine goddamn Damodred and even her trauma response is also a front to protect him, to push him away from her and what is now certainly a suicide mission to fight the dark without her powers.

This is SOOO important to really get Moiraine’s character — y’all gotta understand this: Moiraine truly loves only TWO people on the whole fucking planet: Siuan and Lan. They are also the only people who truly love her, unconditionally, with all of her flaws and imperfections. Please please ingrain that into your brain, especially for Lan, in this context. (Siuan is a whole other conversation I won’t get into at the moment.) Moiraine loves Lan, he loves her, deeply. That’s the foundation of everything they go through with each other in this season, despite what’s happening on the surface.

Once you accept that as fundamental truth, everything makes a whole lot more sense. She is a dick to him to push him away. Literally tells him he failed her to put the final nail in the coffin of driving him away, which is his worst nightmare. On the surface it seems egotistic at best, plain cruel at worst. But look underneath. Moiraine always has reasons 2, 3, 6 layers deep for everything she does.

With everyone else she’s mean to this season, namely her sister and her nephew, it’s born out of distrust (and the aforementioned trauma response). She can’t afford to trust anyone because anyone could be a dark friend. (And if they’re not a dark friend, then they become a liability and endangered.) Anything she lets slip could be used to hurt/control Rand and push them all one step closer to eternal darkness. Oh and when we see Barthanes’ true nature that turns out to be fucking justified, by the way. But I digress.

Right so why is she an asshole to Lan then? Because she doesn’t trust him? I don’t believe that for a second. These two have been on the same page, literally sharing the same headspace, for the last 20 years – she knows he’s the best person she’s ever met, the least likely to ever turn to the dark, ever. It’s an actual impossibility. So it’s not that she doesn’t trust him. She literally marvels at how courageous he must be to fight the dark with only a sword.

The true reason is: she does trust him, she does love him, and she KNOWS him. She knows that he will never leave her like this, in her darkest hour. He is both honor-bound to her (which he takes very seriously) and deeply cares for her. The problem is that now his life is in serious danger by staying with her. But there is no calmly explaining to him that he should return to the white tower for his own good and bond to another aes sedai who can actually channel, who can actually hold up her end of the partnership and protect him and heal him in return for his loyalty and sacrifice. Or better yet, find Nynaeve, who is not only ridiculously powerful and has probably the best chance of protecting him out of anyone, but who also loves him.

If Moiraine loves him and wants him safe, the ONLY option she has to protect him, the one good thing left in her life even if their bond is masked, is to drive him away. To make it so that he’ll stay far away from her of his own free will, and never come after her and her suicide mission to defeat the dark. Because she has already lost everything, she has no control over her fate anymore (if she ever had any to begin with), but the ONE thing she can still try to do is keep him safe. And hopefully, maybe he’ll be happy, one day. Her reasoning is directly confirmed for us in the last thing she says to him in 2x02 before she leaves: “Light protect you, al’Lan Mandragoran.” That was her goal all along, to protect him.

That’s the true reason she’s Like That to him. It’s all out of her love for him, and a desperate desire not to drag him down with her when she’s sure she’s destined to die on this mission. Is her strategy misguided? On the one hand yes, because she does need people to help her and she needs to trust someone, as he points out. On the other hand, she’s absolutely fucking right because look what happened with the Fade fight at the end of 2x01. Both her and Lan would have died without Verin and Tomas, and it would have been because she couldn’t channel. He is factually, logically, physically better off without her as long as she’s “stilled.”

This is why it makes sense how Lan eventually responds the way he does. He initially sees right through what she’s trying to do, he literally says he won’t let her push him away. He knows her too, better than anyone, including Siuan at this point. But he isn’t expecting her to go as far as she does, and it shakes him to his core. She tells him he failed her, has his worst fears confirmed, and then hears the words “we were never equals” and hears that she thinks she’s better than him, when she means the exact opposite. Tomas tells him to really listen but he can’t, in that moment.

But then he gets some distance, and some perspective thanks to Ihvon and Maksim, and he remembers: he loves her. He believes in her and he knows her and he knows what she’s doing to push him away (although maybe not why, when it comes to protecting him, because he doesn’t see himself as someone who needs protecting). Even better, he realizes that her situation is actually not what she thinks, that she’s shielded not stilled, and he can do something about that.

I LOVE Lan in 2x07 because he’s got Moiraine’s number now, and he will not be swayed by any further attempts (rather weak attempts at this point) to lash out at him. He just takes all the shit she throws at him, and calmly asks her what he needs to know and tells her what she needs to hear (“hopefully everything we’ve lost” and “that’s what I thought” and “you need to trust someone, Moiraine”), and is truthful with her even if she is still putting on this act with him in her fear and grief. He isn’t having any of it, he sees straight through it to the fear and pain underneath. And he literally DECIDES they are going to be okay, and then he fucking. Follows. Through.

He is not a doormat to her rage, he is not her servant, he’s not going back to her with his tail between his legs. He SHOWS UP for her in her darkest hour, when NO ONE, not even Siuan, can see what’s going on with her. That’s a true friend, a true hero, and absolute king behavior.

In conclusion, Moiraine’s behavior in s2, while not cute, is totally justified given the trauma, circumstances and everything she’s dealing with (jfc the lack of sleep alone) and makes sense in light of her ultimate goal to protect the world, which includes protecting Lan. And Lan’s response, once he figures out what to do, is the absolute correct way to handle the situation and is not weakness at all but strength in the highest order.

I’m so glad we got the payoff of all that with their conversation in 2x08 and reconnecting the bond. It was so beautiful, so earned, and reminded us of the level they’re on with each other — which is a soul connection way beyond what any of us can imagine.

#well this kind of turned into a ‘why I love Moiraine and Lan so much’ post #I could literally analyze every conversation they had in this season for days #it’s so layered and so well done #not to mention the body language/facial expressions #like if you think Moiraine is just being a bitch this season you are’t paying attention #like at all #but seriously it’s the lack of empathy that kills me the most #do you people see what she’s been through???#make this a learning opportunity bc god forbid something traumatic happens to anyone you love #and your response is to dismiss them if they react in a way that’s not ideal for you #Lan is teaching us all how to show up for the people we love #and I love him for that #wheel of time #the wheel of time #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #wot #wot on prime #moiraine and Lan #wot season 2 #wot s2

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vickyvicarious · 8 months

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Good observation that Dracula's great grimness at informing Jonathan that they must part soon changing to his usual smoothness when Jonathan refuses to return to his room as dictated. Or gives Dracula the pleasure to go "before we part and before you become one of us let's play one more time, lets see you walk back into my arms from danger once more, for good this time". Maybe he even expected this small rebellion from Jonathan, knowing him. Especially after he dared scale his walls. It's more satisfying to "earn" Jonathan's submission. An unbreakable will bending to his is sweeter.

I think Dracula absolutely loves Jonathan's stubbornness... but only with the caveat that he is in control of the situation and can prey upon it. This response is extremely belated, but I kind of like answering it now because I think Dracula's treatment of Renfield so far, as opposed to Jonathan, is so revealing. He's ignoring Renfield completely. He has no interest in him at all. Because Renfield wants to be with Dracula. And Dracula doesn't care to spend his time with people who want to be around him; he's only interested in forcing his company upon those who don't want it. It's a huge part of the fun for him.

If someone like... Seward, for example, had been sent to Castle Dracula, he wouldn't have lasted anywhere near as long. Because I think he would be too enticed/interested in the vampires, and thus he'd bore Dracula a lot faster by being too willing or even eager to play along. Then again, someone who refused to play along at all would get boring very quickly too - if they don't submit and play his game he'll force them into submission with violence and that'll be the end of it. Jonathan managed to thread the needle perfectly with playing along on the surface while still constantly trying to resist behind the scenes. It was interesting and fun, a challenge that never made Dracula feel truly threatened. (Of course, he didn't realize the full extent of Jonathan's resistance/that he did have cause to be threatened...)

And he loved it! He was having so much fun! He got to genuinely enjoy Jonathan's company, but also enjoy how little Jonathan enjoyed his company and how he couldn't do anything about that. He got to keep pushing and pushing and pushing him and watch Jonathan almost break again and again but still just keep bending. To tempt him into disobeying and then punish him for it. To force him to rely on Dracula himself for protection and thus stick even closer the more endangered he gets. He gets to work for it, while at the same time never actually facing real risk other than losing his new toy (and Jonathan always settled down in the end, always let the game continue). ...And then he had to call it quits, because he had a schedule to keep. Yeah, I think he was genuinely kind of upset about that. And so when he got the idea for the wolves, he cheered way up again.

Because Dracula was able to offer Jonathan exactly what he claimed he wanted, but in such a way that they both knew he would never accept it. Instead, he forced Jonathan into a situation where he was forced to "choose" Dracula instead, one last time and more definitively than ever before. It was the perfect way to end their time together. Well, except one final victory - 'rewarding' Jonathan's choice by honoring it with one last night together, with delaying no longer and finally drinking from him.

Contrast all of that to Dracula's complete disinterest in Renfield, despite his avowed goal of conquering England and spreading vampirism here. You'd think a servant who willingly came to him would be helpful for that. But no, because Renfield came to him truly willingly, wanted to enter freely and of his own accord.

Dracula likes the kind of person who enters freely and of their own accord... because they're alone in the wilderness with wolves at their back. He likes those who stay because doing otherwise would be their certain death. He likes those who don't want this (who struggle and struggle, who have an unbreakable will) and yet are forced by him into accepting anyway.

An unbreakable will who bends at his command - that's how Dracula saw Jonathan, and he loved him for it. Right up until the point he decided he was finished, and acted to break him once and for all anyway.

#dracula daily #count dracula #jonathan harker #renfield #anonymous #replies #LITTLE DID HE KNOW THOUGH #sure he broke him a little but not completely. jonathan made it out and now he's got mina #my meta

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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

Text

Have I found you? 🥀

AU Twilight x Miguel O'Hara

Miguel Cullen x Reader Swan

Synopsis: inspired by the ending prom scene from the first Twilight movie. Title of the piece from the lyrics of the song Flightless Bird American Mouth by Iron and Wine. You're Y/N Swan and he's Miguel Cullen. You two steal away to have a discussion about your desire to be with him always, even if it means giving up your mortality. Word count 1.4k

TW: mostly fluff, maybe a somewhat toxic relationship dynamic because as we know Twilight relationships aren't exactly the ideal model of healthy relationships, aging, death, some angst, no mention of reader's gender

You look up at him in the cold, eyes pleading into his sullen expression, the condensation of your breath catching in the air while the air stays still around him. The juxtaposition of your mortality and his immortality. You start to shiver and he wraps his arms around you in response, but it's in vain. The wintry temperature from his skin can be felt through his suit jacket. He shrugs off the suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders instead.

The tension of your conversation is interrupted briefly by the sound of music. An accordion, guitar, and soft tambourine playing a slow, gentle song from a gazebo at the top of the hill where attendees of the Spring Solstice festival are slow dancing.

The touchy subject of you wanting to be with him was brought up again. Not wanting to have your lover's quarrel on display, but perhaps more the fact that he was a vampire known to everyone in town, he lead you by the arm away from the patio lights where you two could talk in private.

He gives a small smile when he hears the music.

"May I have this dance?"

"Don't change the subject."

Before you can protest further, he's swept you off your feet in one motion, landing your worn out converse and your medical walking boot on top of his dress shoes, not minding the bit of mud on them that came from the rain soaked grass.

Miguel looks smug at your annoyance as he starts to dance for both of you in a perfect waltz, not tearing those gorgeous scarlet eyes from yours. His expression gets even more smug when your cheeks become evidently hot as his grip on your waist tightens, causing your pelvises to press against one another.

"Not cool."

"You need to stop asking me to change you," Miguel replies cooly. "Can't we enjoy our night, just like this?

You stay silent, trying to pick your next words carefully.

"I just want to be like you...because we'll never have a chance of being together if I stay human. You're not going to be attracted to me when I'm old."

Miguel's brow furrows. "That's not true."

"But it is Miguel." Tears well in your eyes, sending a tight knob to your throat. "How could you torture me like that? Make me watch you stay young and beautiful while I get old and gray."

Miguel shakes his head, red irises boring into yours. "You say you want to be like me but you don't understand what you're asking me to do...you want me to rob you of your opportunity at a normal life. I'd be ending your life before it even started. Before you even had a chance to live...I'm already a monster, don't ask me to damn your soul too."

Your heart broke at his words, tormented by the fact that he truly saw being with him equal to being cursed.

"If you just let the venom spread when James bit me, I could've been like you right now."

The tears that brimmed your eyes can no longer contain themselves and roll onto your cheeks.

"You were going to die...I had to do whatever I could to save you," Miguel replies softly, bringing a cold hand to wipe away the tears that stained your cheeks. You shiver a little under his touch, and his eyes become apologetic at his startling of you.

"I'm dying right now! Every moment that I'm not like you, I grow older....closer to..."

You don't have to say the last word for him to understand you're referring to your inevitable end. The inescapable fate that awaits all mortals: death.

Miguel's heart doesn't beat, but he feels a surge in his chest that almost brings him back to the feeling of mortality again. The thought of burying you one day was unbearable. To watch you edge closer to the conclusion of your humanity would be painful, not to mention watching you suffer the ailments of aging, possibly forgetting him, and seeing you become increasingly uncomfortable would be devastating. Then, he'd be forced to dredge on in his neverending, monotonous existence. Doomed again to deprivation of all spirit and passion. The color in his world reduced back to gray in tandem with the color leaving your cheeks. He'd let hundreds, if not thousands of years pass him by knowing that you would never resurface.

Miguel sighs. His eyes are sad, yet show signs of yearning. What kind of man condemns his beloved to a life of a monster? A vampire. Whose very existence is blasphemous, a blatant mockery to the laws of nature whose jurisdiction it cheated its way out of. Who is a killer by its very design.

He'd cause you to be robbed of simple human experiences like the rich taste of freshly made desserts, the smells of a new destination, the satisfaction of lazy deep slumbers on Sunday afternoons, to be able to feel one's emotions rise in one's cheeks, the privilege of growing older beside one's love.

To be able to experience the blessing of living long enough to see the repercussions of the love you shared translated into generations below you, your children and grandchildren walking the Earth.

He's silent and just staring into you, a quiet cost-benefit analysis underway in his mind. Would you willingly, voluntarily giving all of those things up, be worth it, as long as he knew in his heart that you'd be his? He knows the answer. He's just afraid to jump.

Miguel's lip trembles, the humanity that laid dormant for centuries attempting to resurface.

"I want you to have every human experience. Even if it's not with me...but..." he sighs.

"I'm selfish enough to want it to be me." He brings your hand to his cheek.

You feel your love soar in your chest.

"I'm ready right now."

Miguel's lips part a little bit as he dips you gently backwards, holding the back of your head securely with one hand while the other is against your back, your hair sliding off your shoulders revealing your delicate neck and the tempting jugular vein running through it. He leans downwards, and you feel the very tip of his sharp fang graze your neck. You blink furiously then shut your eyes all together, bracing for the stinging pain you might have underestimated.

But instead, you feel his cold lips press a soft kiss against your neck and hold it there, drinking in your scent and warmth once more before he brings his gorgeous face to yours, your noses inches away from each other.

"Allow me to enjoy you like this just a little bit longer?" He begs softly, tracing your collarbone with his finger.

You exhale your defeat, and realize it's no longer about his doubts about whether he could really bring himself to end your mortality, but rather your mortality being the very cornerstone of what made him surrender his heart to you in the first place. It was simply his grief of letting that version of you die, despite his certainty that his love for you would never waver after the fact.

But, you know what you want. And even though he can't read your thoughts, you make sure he knows it too.

"For now..." you answer softly, the corner of your mouth turning up into one of those half smiles he adores so much. Miguel knew you would eventually ride into eternity with him. Your heart already sealed away in his hands, becoming a vampire tonight wasn't necessary to make it so.

Words escape him and so he decides to show you instead. He pulls you into a tender kiss. His lips soft under yours despite the coldness they contain as he snakes a hand into your hair, holding you against him as though your only purpose was to be in his arms. Holding you as though you'd break outside of his protective embrace. The Lion and the lamb.

For what feels like forever curtailed into several moments, your lips dance with one another, the music swelling into a crescendo, a perfect parallel of the love only growing stronger between you until the floodgates of your heart could no longer hold back the boundless ocean that only forever could contain.

Eternity would always await, but for now, this night belongs to you as you dance with Miguel. This passionate kiss under the stars proves it.

-----

🖤

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #spotify #atsv miguel #twilight saga #miguel o'hara fluff #Spotify #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n

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yuri-is-online · 25 days

Note

...so you just threw this beautiful idea of Fyuuture kid, and left me with a brainrot? Especially after you answered one ask with i quote "he loves his parent so much and was really fighting it to keep it together when he saw them alive again" end of the quote. WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN? WHAT? HOW?

ask 1 and ask 2

Oh 👉👈? I wasn't expecting to get an ask about this au ever again actually, but I am so glad you did, I like it a lot. I mentioned Fire Emblem Awakening in the first ask I got about it but for those of you who haven't played the game, the plot features the children of your army traveling back in time to try and prevent the end of the world. That's more or less what happened in the fyuuture kid au, at least in my first draft... I always end up associating the "future kid meets their parents" trope with either FE: Awakening or I guess Golden Sun? Which I think is the name of the jrpg where something similar happens idk I just like there being a reason for the kid to need to meet their parents.

In my original draft of the au, Yuu was told by Crowley there was no way home for them, so they settled down with Yutu's father and started building a life together. This turned out to not be true, as the Magical Marshall's office began investigating the overblots that happened while Yuu was in school and came to the conclusion Yuu had something to do with them; so they were secretly arrested, cursed to forget everything about Twisted Wonderland, and sent home. The curse was meant to trigger every time Yuu vaguely remembered their time in the otherworld, with the idea their brain would prevent them from thinking about it after a while. They would have justified it, if anyone had been there to ask, by saying Yuu wouldn't know they were missing anything and would be able to live a happy life. When Yutu was born that made that outcome impossible, but the Marshal's office didn't think to check if Yuu was pregnant...

Shortly after they did that though strange things started happening. Monster attacks got more frequent, blot levels started rising, not to extremes immediately but still enough to be concerning. Reports of a strange, abyssal magic using beast, started pouring in to S.T.Y.X. suspiciously close to Grim's description. While Yuu was busy trying to put their life back together in their world, Twisted Wonderland slowly began to fall apart drowning under an ink colored sky. The overblot phantoms they fought come back and begin hunting in their respective homelands, and rumor has it they can turn certain mages into their thralls...

The curse slowly eats away at Yuu's brain, every time they see something that reminds them of their friends, their time at NRC, every time Yutu does something that would make them think about how much he takes after his dad, they feel a great deal of physical pain and temporarily lose the ability to function. It's killing them, and no doctor or specialist can figure out the cause, so Yutu just has to sit there and watch his parent slowly die and not be able to do anything about it. I was uncertain of where exactly I wanted Yuu to die in the story, but it always was around when Yutu gets isekaid to NRC, either before and he had to leave them behind or after when they both get to go home finally! But Yuu doesn't completely make it, they're able to have one moment of peace with their son and Professor Crewel before passing on.

Yutu's dad changes depending on who you want it to be of course, as does whether they met before he and his friends decided to go back in time to prevent this version of the future from ever happening, but his feelings about Yuu never changes. Yutu really admires his parent, he did even before he learned about them facing down overblots! They were really close and the more he learned about their curse, the more responsible he felt for their death. He's very determined to keep Yuu alive and safe in Twisted Wonderland in this timeline, even if it costs him his life.

His opinion on his dad really changes depending on who it is and what he learns about them. Like can you imagine learning your dad was known for being obsessed with teeth and no he had no intention of being a dentist? Clown behavior 💀💀💀 His friends were all ocs I made but never really developed... I do remember that one was a younger sibling of Kalim's (who could be his aunt if you like Kalim and absolutely embraces that role), her retainer, Crewel's son who also sees himself as Yutu's uncle (the feeling isn't mutual) because he is old enough to sort of remember Yuu and thinks of them as a sibling, and a random oc I based off of the kid from Up for no reason other than I like the movie. They also came back in time, but only Yutu ended up in the right place, just like fire emblem awakening.

idk I should probably do something with it. like writing the reactions for the other dorms...

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #future kid au #i am so sorry if you wanted more domestic moments w yuu and yutu and got a lore dump instead #if you want those feel free to ask i need a distraction from the long fic i am writing ha

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callsignfate · 7 months

Text

Personal Exile Pt. 4

(You take Valeria to bed?! Well kinda. Anyways. This series is nearing its 18+ portion. I will say that this part, I think, is slightly shorter than the rest, or it feels shorter. I don't know. This was requested by a friend so if you were waiting for part four thank them! Tw: Mention of death, talk of death, you are ex-military. Viewer discretion is advised.)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three/ Part Four/

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

The week had taken its toll on both you and Valeria, leaving you exhausted and battered. Your body, caked in dried blood and mud, felt heavier with each step as you navigated the familiar maze of hallways leading to Valeria's office. The successful job you had just completed had come at a cost, pushing your limits to their edge.

Entering her office, you could hardly muster more than an exhausted groan. You knew better than to expect praise or acknowledgment for your efforts in guarding Valeria's men and valuable cargo. It was just another day in the relentless world of the cartel.

Valeria, as usual, didn't look up from her papers, her gaze fixed firmly on her work. She raised her hand, signaling you to wait in silence for what felt like an eternity before finally acknowledging your presence.

"Successful, as always," you muttered, your exhaustion and slight annoyance seeping into your tone.

Valeria's response was swift and cutting. "You look like shit," she remarked with her customary playfully rude tone, causing you to roll your eyes at her words.

"You don't say. Well, it's not like you look great either," you retorted, gesturing to the stacks of papers that had accumulated during her absence. "You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Busy and not tired," she muttered, though her refusal to yawn or show any sign of fatigue was unconvincing. You sighed and challenged her blatant lie.

"Busy I believe, but not tired? I doubt that," you remarked, raising an eyebrow as you questioned her.

Annoyed by your persistent probing, Valeria cut the conversation short. "Look, I don't have time for your attitude or these useless conversations. Get out of my office."

"Alright, big dog. Put your hackles down," you quipped, surrendering playfully with a smile before turning and leaving her office without another word.

You had opted for malicious compliance, a tactic to give Valeria the space she seemed to desire. After the long shower you took to wash off the mud and dried blood, you stopped reporting the jobs to her altogether. Instead, you delegated the task to one of the men you had grown somewhat close to, or sometimes you didn't report it at all. It was your way of giving her exactly what she had asked for—no more "useless conversations."

One day, while conversing with a fellow member, discussing mostly gossip about other members, you felt eyes on you. It didn't take long to identify the source of the intense gaze: Valeria. You nodded in her direction, making eye contact before she scoffed and walked away from the window, clearly annoyed.

You scoffed in response and rolled your eyes as you continued half-heartedly listening to the man's ramblings. Valeria's interruption hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Do I pay you to walk about and talk?" Valeria's angry footsteps approached, and she confronted you both only a few minutes after her appearance in the window. The man you were speaking to froze and began to ramble nervously, but you turned to face Valeria, partially mirroring her tone and expressions.

"Actually, you technically do. We were doing patrols and talking while we did," you replied, offering an obviously fake excuse, similar to what she would say to provoke a reaction.

"Patrols are meant for looking out, not for being friendly and talking. You're off patrols," she declared with her characteristic cocky smile, gesturing for you to head inside as the other man left to resume patrolling.

"As if that's a punishment," you retorted, your tone and smile mirroring Valeria's, before happily heading inside. You could hear her steps following you, only a few paces behind.

Inside the halls, you didn't anticipate what happened next. Valeria's grip suddenly yanked your arm backward and toward her, and you felt your neck hairs stand on end. Despite the instinct to defend yourself, you forced your body to remain still. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself pinned between Valeria and the wall, her breathing heavy like a raging bull.

"What do you think you're doing? You stopped reporting back to me, which is part of your job," she hissed, her face dangerously close to yours. You met her anger with a defiant and cocky smirk.

"Last time we spoke, you said you didn't have time for my attitude or our 'useless conversations.' So, I decided to give you the time you so desperately wanted. I listened," you replied, mimicking her tone and expressions to get a rise out of her.

"You decided to pout and be petty because I snapped at you?" Valeria said in disbelief, her anger fueled by her tired inability to hide her emotions.

"No, I'm not being petty or pouting. It's called malicious compliance, first of all, and secondly, you seem to be the one upset that I stopped reporting to you personally. You know the jobs are getting done and that they're successful. I'm just making your job easier, no?" you remarked, maintaining your mimicry of her tone and expressions.

"You know exactly what you're doing. Don't play coy with me," she snapped back, her teeth nearly snapping like a dog's, her rage growing evident.

"Mhmm, sure," you muttered dismissively, brushing off her anger. Taking advantage of the small space she had allowed you with her last angry words, you bent down, picked her up by her legs, and rested her on your shoulder.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Valeria yelled, struggling against your hold as she landed a series of angry punches on your back in an attempt to break free as you walked down the hallways, you were thankful your room was close.

"Nothing, nothing," you muttered, your actions surprising her. Her protests and fighting were in vain as you walked in your room and threw her gently on your bed.

"You— you're bold," Valeria muttered angrily as she stood up. You immediately pushed her shoulders back, and she fell back onto the bed, sitting in anger.

"Bold? Or stupid? Bringing a cartel leader to my room by force, that's just stupidity at its finest," you remarked, your kneeled form moving to untie her boots, your actions leaving her shocked she remained silent, confirming your suspicion that her anger was fueled by exhaustion and her inability to hide her emotions.

"Would you sleep? I know you haven't slept in over two days," you muttered, your concern evident in your voice. Turning away, you began removing your own gear, tossing it onto the chair by the desk. Your intention was clear; you had no plans to share the bed with Valeria but instead planned to sleep on the floor next to it.

What surprised you was the absence of argument or protest from Valeria. After all the confrontations and banter, her exhaustion seemed to have finally taken its toll. You glanced over at her, noticing that she had already succumbed to sleep, her usual fiery demeanor replaced by the tranquility of her soft quiet breathing.

A sense of relief washed over you as you carefully pulled the blankets over her to ensure she stayed warm. Then, without further ado, you positioned yourself on the floor beside the bed, finding a comfortable spot to rest. Your back leaned against the bed's edge, and you closed your eyes, allowing the quiet of the room and Valeria's gentle breathing to lull you into a well-deserved sleep.

In this unexpected moment of peace, with Valeria sleeping soundly and your own exhaustion finally catching up with you, the world of cartel intrigue and danger momentarily faded into the background.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza cod #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria mw2 #valeria garza x fem!reader #mw2 valeria x reader #cartel mommy #valeria garza x you #valeria x reader

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joelswritingmistress · 2 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 47

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

You never really know what you would do in that situation until it becomes reality. In this case, that situation was one where an unknown assailant is giving quiet, controlled commands to follow. Every instinct in my body was to do exactly the opposite of what I was being told to do.

“Walk straight to the elevator. Take it down to the basement level. The door straight ahead is unlocked. Go through it. Walk straight through the salt caves and open the door at the far end. Enter the room. If you try to cause a disturbance or draw attention to yourself, someone you love will die.”

The feisty woman in me wanted to blow up his spot. I wanted to go screaming through the hallways banging on doors for help. I knew I should have. But what if that meant someone I loved would die? What if it wasn’t an idle threat? What if this person had the means to do just that? And which person was he speaking of?

“Pull your hood up.” His voice was all whispers. I couldn’t make out his identity. “Walk to the elevator. I’ll be just behind you.”

Fuck. Why was I about to obey?

So no one will die, I answered myself internally.

“Stay in front of me.” The man grabbed my cell phone and slung it into his pocket before ushering me toward the door. When the two of us emerged into the hallway, I took a deep breath. There was freedom here, yet I was imprisoned. The walk down the dimly lit corridor to the elevators felt like a death march. Maybe it would be.

I glanced to the right out the windows that gave a view of the empty slopes. Such a different point of view at this late hour.

“Is this part of the bachelorette party?” I asked, wondering if this was some elaborate scheme. Maybe Carol hired a male stripper or something to carry out some freaky, funny scenario. He did order me to the basement, after all. That’s where we had our pedicures, lounged around the salt caves and took a dip in the jacuzzi.

“No.” That was the only response.

When the elevators came into view I was hoping to see someone. Anyone. Someone I could flag down and somehow discreetly let them know I was in trouble. Or at least I thought I was in trouble.

My heart was pounding when the doors opened and no one else was inside. I closed my eyes and hesitated, only stepping onto the platform when the person shoved me forward. When I glanced over my shoulder, I could see a stark white mask covering his face and his hood was pulled up to cover his hair.

Regardless, he moved to get out of the way and motioned to the buttons. I pressed the glowing circle with the letter B in the center of it and down we went. Whatever was waiting for me there was unavoidable. I still held hope that a giant prank was in order. Maybe the whole family or the wedding party or both would be waiting down there.

Dr. Miller had gone somewhere for wedding shenanigans. But why would the person say that someone would die? And why would he take my phone? The hope I had grew bleaker with each passing thought, and with each passing floor. When a clunking sound finally indicated we had reached our destination, I swallowed hard.

My hands were shaking. My heart continued to thud. The doors flung open and the spa that I had leisurely visited for relaxation not all that long ago looked like a dungeon. It was dark and desolate. Even the smells that lingered in the air felt different; musty. All remnants of what this place had been during the day were tragically missing.

I took a deep breath and stepped out, trying to remember the exactly directions.

“Where do I go?” I asked aloud.

Over my shoulder his arm extended and his index finger was a straight line. I walked forward, glancing in all directions.

“The spa is closed,” I said aloud. As afraid as I had been up to this point, an internal instinct for survival kicked in and I made an attempt to run back toward the elevator.

It caught him off guard. The man chased after me and I began peppering the word, “Fuck,” outloud as I began to push the little button with the arrow.

The doors reopened and I bolted back into the elevator, only to be yanked back by my hair.

I screamed for the first time and then I was lifted from my feet, thrown over his shoulder as he carried me away. I watched as the elevator doors closed and got farther and farther away with each step he made into the blackness; the obscurity.

I kicked and screamed at first, trying to get away, but within just a second it got all the more real. With one swift movement he placed me down and there was an unmistakable feeling at the base of my throat. A thin, cold line pressed into my skin and it felt hard to breathe. A knife. The blade. All this person had to do was push and my life could be over. Right there.

“Okay,” I choked out, “Okay.” All hope for a bachelorette party was long gone. This was real. I was going to die in the spa of this place that had been a paradise no less than fifteen minutes earlier.

He walked me forward. The blade was still against my neck and we stepped in sync, like some kind of synchronized dance routine. I barely recognized the salt caves when they came into view. The lights were dimmer. The smell was musty. Each time I breathed in and out I worried the edge of the blade might penetrate my skin.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I could have gagged, but I managed not to. When I swallowed hard again it hurt. I knew asking him to loosen up his grasp would do no good. If anything, I thought it might prompt him to push harder against my throat.

The spongy ground beneath my feet somehow reminded me of quicksand. Metaphorically, that was the equivalent of this trek through the caves. I was getting deeper and deeper, and it became less likely that I would make it out again. There was no cavalry coming over the hill to save me or help out this situation. I knew I had to figure it out on my own.

We rounded a bend and the musty smell mixed with that of chlorine. It was a familiar smell. One that reminded me of the bottom lair of Dr. Miller’s house. A white sign with navy blue lettering and an arrow came into view beside a door I could barely make out. As we grew closer, I could see what the sign read.

POOL THIS WAY.

Pool. Swimming. What did this person have in mind? And how much did they know about me and my habits? Dr. Miller had taught me enough in our times together that I could make it short distances staying afloat; but what would happen if this guy flat out pushed me into the deep end of this swimming pool?

Death by drowning or death by stabbing. My options felt grim.

The chlorine smell was magnified when he reached around me and pulled the door open, still positioning himself at my rear. Outstretched before me was an oversized swimming pool, twice the size of Dr. Miller’s. The blue glow was the only lighting in the place.

A loud clank made me jump and I turned around to face the masked man behind me as he secured the door shut.

I put some distance between him and myself, though I stared right at him. In my mind I showed no fear, but I could feel my body trembling.

“What do you want?” I asked him. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” He spoke normally now, all traces of his raspy whispers were gone, and I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I knew that voice. He wasn’t a stranger. Not by a long shot.

“Is-is this a joke?” It had to be, right? It had to be. Though, at the same time I knew it couldn’t be. There was a long, drawn out pause. It was almost too dramatic. And then he removed the mask.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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