#And he still died saving the chosen one

[non-cannon]

If you think about it, technically Rufus did his job as the Osirian in the season two finale. When he took the mask from Nina he protected the Chosen One from going to the afterlife, and with Senkarah following the mask he also sent the evil being harming/threatening the Paragon to the (probably technically not hell) bad afterlife.

[blazingstar24]

Just thinking again why Predathos would choose Ludinus, why Ludinus chose Predathos. And thinking about that elven city ripped from Exandria. Those people unaware of why, of what they did wrong, if they did anything wrong. On the whims of the Gods who decided that their lives, their city meant nothing in their attempt to kill another.

And how that sounds to (possibly, in theory) an Aeorian. Thinking about how Predathos can reach into any Exandrian’s dreams. Thinking about how an elf’s dreams are not dreams but memories. How a godeater would appeal to the truest non believer. To show him that his city was not the first to be collectively punished. That this has happened before.

And I do think about how exactly Predathos pulls people in. The kind of people it attracts. They are all people who feel like they have no place to call home.

How it calls to the Ruidusborn, who are ostracized and shamed, who feel like they don’t belong. How it calls to Imogen by making her feel the warmth of a family, of a familial embrace for the first time. How it has promised its own people that Exandria, the Blue Promise will be a home for them. So of course it called to Ludinus. Yet another lost soul, out of time, out of place. If Predathos is the Shepard of the lost, of the lonely, who better to kneel at its feet than the most lost and alone man on Exandria.

There is the idea that Predathos is some unwitting beast. A monster that Ludinus is just going to set loose. But more and more I do believe that it isn’t that. That it is clever, that it thinks and plans and schemes, just as much as Ludinus does. They call it the One Who Sleeps but it has spoken to Imogen. It has asked to be woken up. All that points to Predathos being very aware of what is going on. Thus I think it is not out of the question that Ludinus is both still wizard hubrising his way into something bigger than him but also perhaps chosen by Predathos. That it saw him and said he’s the perfect mark for it. I mean how fitting it is for the God Eater to find the number one God Hater? Is it all just a coincidence or did it see into the “dreams” of someone primed and ready to tear down the world. Someone much more clever and less afraid of the unknown like the children who carry its seed. And how if Predathos was smart, of course it should choose that person as their champion.

[valeffelees]

only bad thing about being in a fandom where one of the characters canonically has wings is the painful lack of classic wingfic. where is my everything's the same but people have bird wings watford au where one day baz notices simon hasn't been grooming his wings bc of an injury to his ribs so he sits on his bed and makes a whole fuss about how "i'm not doing this to be nice, snow, your wings are just a travesty to look at" and then proceeds to carefully and lovingly tidy his feathers in drawn out silence while they both pretend grooming someone else's wings isn't one of the most intimate things you can do for another person. will this heartbreak never end

[gayleafpool]

i love the squirrelflight is a scourge reincarnation au but also consider. leafpool scourge reincarnation au

[bluebox-timelord]

-

[saphic-with-t]

When joking about how ridiculous it is that Fabian is popular I don’t think people realize how insanely cool the bad kids are in universe. As viewers we see their cool moments but we also see them being dorks and lame idiots. Think about their in universe reputations and how you would react to hearing about them if you lived in the same world as them.

There is a group of six people who saved the world 3 different times before they even entered their junior year of high school.

One of them never showed up to any of their classes until their third year and still passed. She is a rockstar and arch devil of rebellion who owns a recording studio in hell where she plays the bass.

One dude threw the greatest party the entire high school has ever seen, is captain of the sports team, and killed the school’s evil principal without facing any punishment.

One performed a motorcycle kick-flip that was doing a jump off of a mansion’s roof into a pool of flaming tartar sauce. Said kick-flip student has created a god, killed that god, brought herself back from the dead, and resurrected a completely different god.

One of the girls is the chosen oracle of all elves and punched her dad so hard he instantly died. Also if you dig deep enough into the political history books it turns out she caused there to be a feud (bordering on full war) between her home nation and the nation she currently lives in.

The quietest kid of the bunch is a super genius who invented a solar lasso that captured and contained an eldritch horror into his van, took 4 years of high school all at once and passed all of them, is currently acing his arcane mechanics and physical Ed studies, and is the second hand man on the school sports team. He also is the drummer for the arch devil’s band and launched a fully working satellite into space before he even started studying arcane mechanics.

Finally the “dork” of their group is an arcane consultant of heaven, became a P.I. after freshman year, is currently in every extra-curricular school club, and is beloved by seemingly all of his underclassmen. Also after he found out that the dragon his party was fighting ate his dad he fucking ATE IT to avenge him.

Obviously we know the truth behind all of these things and the actual way these six dorks act, but think how insanely sick they all sound in universe.

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Real Talk: Ace Didn't Need to Ask For Help, It's On Garp

i always hate when i see comments about how ace was an idiot or ace should have just asked garp for help because, no? like dawg wtf do you mean?

the one thing we have been told repeatedly across the manga and anime is that ace could have lived his entire life being perfect and he still would have ended up on that podium

he could have become a marine, a police officer, a teacher, a chef and all of that would have been reduced to nothing the moment his parentage was discovered

yes, ace became a pirate of his own volition, but sengoku never mentioned his piracy

he never mentioned all the criminal activity ace did as the captain of the spade pirates or even later as the second division leader of the whitebeard pirates

you know what sengoku did bring up though the moment he got on that damn podium? ace's parentage

he mentions nothing that gained ace his bounty to begin with when he gets that den den mushi in his hand. why?

because it doesn't matter that ace is a pirate. what matters is that they are eradicating the last gol d roger's bloodline

bear in mind that they were killing pregnant women and young children who could have even had the slightest possibility of being roger's lover or kin

akainu deadass says that he doesn't care if every other pirate at marineford escapes as long as ace and luffy died and he would ensure their deaths personally. and for what? not their piracy. none of their crimes. not even for ensuring that the truth that certain countries and lands that were actually saved by pirates instead of the marines never got out

but because their fathers were gol d roger and monkey d dragon respectively

solely because of that, he deemed neither of them deserved to live

and as far as garp goes - i love garp as much as the next person but garp has never done anything for ace to trust him enough to ask for help even if he felt he deserved to ask

garp's negligent parenting coupled with the abusive words ace grew up hearing led ace to believe he didn't even deserve to be born. when he even asks garp if his being born was a good thing, garp can't even tell him 'yes'. he just says 'time will tell'. my brother in the blue seas, that is an elementary schooler questioning his right to exist

ace is defeated by blackbeard in episode 325 (chapters 434-441), luffy hears about his execution being set in episode 416 (chapter 522) and then finally ace is killed in episode 483 (chapter 574). that is 158 episodes and 140 chapters total and in that time what ace receives from garp are conversations that boil down to

"you did this to yourself"

"i just wanted you to become a fine marine"

"i don't have sympathy for criminals but i do have sympathy for family"

and garp actively preventing those who wish to save ace from reaching him. yes after akainu strikes ace, garp does react viscerally with instinct to protect his grandson, but that's too little too damn late at that point

garp having his moral dilemmas mean nothing when, however long ace spent in impel down, he isn't trying to help him

garp having his 'wishing things had been different' thoughts mean nothing when garp is preventing people from saving his grandson

there's a reason garp lets dadan beat and berate him when they reunite in windmill village and it's because he knows she's right

over the course of 20 years, garp has consistently chosen work over ace and luffy. as much as i love dadan and co, bandits are not a good choice to have raise your grandkids and then be the surprised pikachu meme when neither of them wish to become marines

garp's inability to see past the system he disdains yet clings onto actively shoots him in the foot

prevents him from seeing that ace is right when he says he never could have become a marine

luffy could have never become a marine. i do hear arguments saying that luffy might have had a fair chance considering garp is biologically his grandfather but i say that's truly up in the air considering how, even with that knowledge, akainu still wants to put luffy on a poster

but that's all to say, asking why ace never asked garp for help is ridiculous

the fuck would ace look like asking the man who has done nothing but

unintentionally fostered ace's resentment towards luffy in their early childhood

told ace it was his own fault he landed where he did

falcon punched marco halfway across marineford

for help?

and that's not even mentioning the fact that up until that point, ace didn't believe he deserved to live. he didn't think he had the right to exist. the only thing that kept him going up until that point was hoping he'd find an answer that justified his being born and his love for luffy and sabo. ace tells luffy in his dying breaths if it weren't for the two of them, he would have gave up on living a long time ago

yes, garp loves ace and luffy

he loves them both dearly but he is also incapable of putting them before work, before his ideals of justice. these two truths can coexist at the same time. garp's stubborn to a fault and his moral dilemma resulted in both inaction and the prevention of ace's escape

so to say that marineford would have gone differently if ace had asked is seriously undermining the character work. because in reality, it's up in the air on whether or not that would have done anything. ace asking garp for help could have gone either way and that's the beauty of the gray area regarding garp's actions during the summit war

and yes, i can get why it's frustrating that ace turned around to fight akainu when he could have just left and got it back in a blood a different time

but aside from ace having a temper about specific topics, we do get an answer as to why he couldn't bring himself to runaway when we finally are able to dive into his past with luffy and sabo:

he doesn't want to run away from any situation because ace is deathly afraid of losing something if running away ends up being the bad call

and in that moment, luffy was behind him

even if akainu hadn't talked down whitebeard, ace would have inevitably turned back around because he wouldn't have been able to shake his fear of losing something or someone he cared about

as long as there is something precious for him to potentially lose, ace will never run

he was doomed from the start

his being the son of gol d roger doomed him from the start

and that's what makes ace so tragic

[the-californicationist]

The Old Way

Listen... I don't even know what I'm on with this. Just... don't judge me. Omfg what is wrong with me.

AO3 Link -- TW: omegaverse wildness, biting, blood, etc.

Your people are starving, and your clan's Alpha has asked you, their only remaining Omega, to give yourself up as a sacrifice to save them. So, you agree, and you are to be mated to one of the Alphas of Clan 141, praying that it is to any of them except Alpha Price. He is known to have a knot that is impossible to take, but when you finally meet him, you're not sure of what's possible anymore. Will you risk it all to be with him, even if his knot might kill you? One way to find out…

The Old Way

You couldn’t see the stars. The shroud that hung over your head was made from fine, black silk, and through its thin organza, you could barely make out the shape of the Watcher in front of you, much less the glittering galactic expanse overhead. You were wrapped like a gift, and if you wanted to save the lives of everyone you’d ever loved, you would remain cloaked in your darkness, hidden, waiting for your big moment. More than anything, you wanted to pull your veil away from your eyes just to see the familiar constellations again, to comfort yourself with their shapes, to make one last independent choice before all of your volition was stolen from you forever. 

That wasn’t the right word. You couldn’t steal something that was given freely. You were not bound, and you were certainly not forced to wear the shadowed veil against your will. You had selected this path for yourself, and now you were living through the consequences of that decision.

As the only Omega in your clan – the first one born in seventy years – you were raised on the knowledge that you may one day be asked to give up your life for your clan. After the war, life was hard, and now that your people were stuck in a seemingly endless drought, it had become even more desperate. Your clan leader, Alpha Roan, had come to you six weeks ago with a terrible look in his eyes, a palpable guilt, still wearing his mourning collar for his long-lost mate, Omega Kiran, and he had asked you if you would be willing to undergo The Exchange.

His own wife had come to your clan through The Exchange, and although they had chosen to perform a private ceremony, you knew that it had been a challenge for her. Before she died, she had taught you much about your role, but you were still a youngling, and some things were just not for you to hear at such an age. 

You thought about the years that had passed after the loss of your clan’s Omega. Alpha Roan had insisted on your education, and your training, but the idea that you would be asked to leave your clan through The Exchange was always a distant threat. But, now, here it was. You had been called by your Alpha to sacrifice yourself for their benefit; not in a marriage of love, but in a clan trade. 

You had been asked by your Alpha to think about your choice. After he left you to ponder your choice, you sat down in your chambers surrounded by your Watchers, the women who had raised you, who had taught you to read, to write, to fight, and to charm. They looked at you with the same guilty, knowing eyes, and they asked you if you were prepared to make the sacrifice. 

“You do know what awaits you at the end of The Exchange, don’t you, Omega?” Watcher Trinity had asked you quietly, holding your hands in her shaking fingers, the wrinkled skin of her knuckles folding and stretching over her thin bones. 

You nodded, “Yes, Watcher. I am to be given to a new Alpha.”

She had looked at you then, her eyes sharp and calculating, trying to figure out how she would ask her next question.   

“Do you know the way in which you will be given, Omega?” 

Her tone chilled your heart, sinking through your body like ice across a pond, freezing you in place. You waited. There was more that she needed to say, and you allowed her to explain. 

And now that you knew the truth, you felt fully prepared to accept the terms of the agreement. You would deliver your people from their strife, and any pain, any shame, and any horror that you experienced from this point onward would be in service to your clan. You hoped that would be enough solace to sustain you. There was no shame in your sacrifice, you knew that. But, in your soul, you knew that knowing a thing and experiencing a thing were two vastly disparate sides of the same coin. 

You informed your clan Alpha, holding your chin high, 

“I accept the terms of The Exchange, Alpha Roan.”

“Your people are forever in your debt, Omega. Watchers,” he addressed your caregivers, “Please make preparations in the old way of our clan.”

“The old way, Alpha Roan?” Watcher Trinity had asked, her voice giving away her apprehension.

“Yes, Watcher. We will follow the law, no matter how… upsetting it may be. Clan 141 is too powerful for us to take any undue risks. If they do not accept her, we may not survive their engagement.”

Even in your sheltered little academy, you had heard of Clan 141. Their clan was small, but it was deeply feared. If any other clan dared step out of line, the 141 were there to rain hellfire and destruction down on them until there was nothing left. They were not cruel, but they abided no violent acts in their territory, and any whisper of rekindling the war efforts or of superseding the peace treaty was dealt with swiftly and decisively. 

Before the war, kings and presidents and generals had pulled the strings. Now that the world lay in ruins, the 141 was the only thing between your small clan and total destruction from larger, more aggressive packs. The 141 was the only reason your people still had other clans to trade with; they had made sure smaller communities had access to fair market costs for food and services, and no one dared to shun your merchants now that you were under their protective wing. 

Your Watchers had done their best to ease you into your preparations. Clan 141 would be at the neutral ground in six weeks, and your team had tried to make every moment of that window meaningful in your training. They had started slowly, teaching you to stretch your untouched hole with your fingers, showing you diagrams and depictions of your own anatomy, warning you of the physical trial of taking an Alpha’s knot. 

It was mortifying when you endured your first test. Watcher Gillar and Watcher Bhin had made you sit in front of a mirror and show them your progress. You were told to clench and release the muscles of your hole on command, fluttering it to prove its strength. Then, they had produced a carved, glass phallus, expecting you to practice on a smaller model before moving you up to a more advanced size. 

You took it from their hands, looking at its curved, rigid shape with wide-eyed curiosity, trying to swallow your grief at being seen doing the unthinkable by people you considered to be your closest friends and caregivers. It almost made you regret your decision. But, your people needed you, so you rested the smooth tip of the phallus at the entrance of your hole and began to shove it inside of yourself. 

This new feeling was overwriting your mind, so alien and yet so very comforting to you, confounding in its sensations yet overwhelming in its unique, bright pleasure.

It was a struggle, but you managed to slip it into your body almost down to the large, bulbous knot on the end. The sharp pain of being entered for the first time was not as terrible as you had feared, but when you pulled the phallic rod back out of you, it was cloudy with your slick and your blood. 

“Try the knot, Omega. Your Alpha will be twice as large as this, at least. You do not want your first experience to be at the ceremony. I know that you will want to appear strong in front of the other clans.” Watcher Bhin encouraged you, holding you to her shoulder as she sat behind you, trying her best to comfort you through such a harrowing ordeal. 

You put their practice cock back inside of you, slipping down further than you had, feeling the wide anatomy pressing against your entrance, but still unable to take the full knot inside. You pushed and pulled with your muscles, just like your Watchers had taught you, but it wouldn’t budge. You were panting, sweating, and teetering on the edge of an embarrassing orgasm in front of your Watchers, and you gasped out, exasperated, 

“I can’t. I don’t think I can do this, Watcher.”

“Lay back, Omega. I will help you,” Watcher Gillar said softly, replacing your hand with hers at the base of the phallus. 

You lay down on your back against your soft pillows, trying to avoid your Watchers’ pitying eyes. Then, you felt a cool gel being applied around the sore ring of your hole; something to ease the way since there was no true Alpha present to coax your slick from your glands. Watcher Bhin had held your hand in hers, gripping you tightly, letting you squeeze her through the pain, wiping away your tears as the glass bulb of the pretend knot began to split you, stretching your body before finally popping into place.

You Watchers had comforted you for a few minutes, but then you were told to begin your meditations.

With much difficulty, you sat up, feeling the heavy knot nestled against your walls. Then, Watcher Bhin handed you a firm pillow, and you understood that you must straddle it, and that it would push the knot against you. You were to train your body and your mind to accept it so that you would have the stamina to withstand the ceremony. 

“Do not be afraid to listen to your body, Omega. We will return to help you remove it and recover. I will light some incense for you. Concentrate on your strength.”

You nodded, uncrossing your legs and settling yourself over the firm pillow, feeling the deep, sacral grind of the phallus as you set your weight against it. When you were left alone, you began your breathing techniques, but all the while, a flush was rushing across your skin, the shadow of a rising desire to come, and yet subtly different. Something whispered in your mind, and you wondered if you could call your slick down yourself, without an Alpha’s help. 

So, you tried, rocking back and forth across the pillow, churning the knot within your core, feeling the rounded tip rubbing against your deepest parts. You removed your robes, letting the flush keep you warm, watching yourself in the tall mirror, meeting your own eyes. 

It took only minutes before a true orgasm was upon you, but you tried to hold it at bay, searching through the sparkling, cracking fog of pleasure for the part of you that made you special. No Beta would survive a knotting; they never did, and it was a crime to even try. But, you were meant for it, and you knew that your Watchers’ training would not let you down. You breathed through the bliss, reaching out with your mind towards your slick, imagining it, visualizing your success, manifesting it deep within you. 

When the Watchers found you later that night, they woke you with cool rags and worried faces,

“What happened, Omega? How did you…” Watcher Gillar looked down at your bare legs to where the pillow sat under you, seeing a torrent of slick and milky come covering your skin and the silk of the bolster, confused by how you could produce it without an Alpha’s beckoning call. It was just not done, not even considered to be a possibility. 

After that night, there was much chatter amongst the Watchers. They consulted old tomes, dusting off the pages in the library of your little academy where you trained far away from the rest of your village, kept up here in your tower like a Delphic oracle, buried like a treasure. 

The training became more intense, and each practice phallus that your Watchers produced became harder and heavier, each bearing knots that were unfathomably large. You used your newfound power to face each of your challenges, less ashamed now to perform in front of your team, but knowing that the ceremony would be something else entirely. 

You had asked about it one night as your Watchers were helping you bathe after a particularly difficult practice session, 

“Will there truly be none absent from the ceremony, Watcher Trinity?”

“Only the cubs and their mothers are forbidden from attending. Otherwise, all clan members are obligated to witness The Exchange. We will even invite Clan Farlight and Clan Seres to the feast as a token of goodwill. You know this, Omega,” her tone was a little impatient, wondering why you were asking such a basic question, “Your Alpha has asked for your ceremony to be conducted in the old way, according to the original scrolls.” 

“I am worried that I will dishonor you with my abilities. I cannot seem to take even these false knots without tears,” you repeated the old scripture, chanting it rote to your Watcher just as you used to do when you had started your adult training, “Omegas are vessels. They will silently submit. The ceremony will be still, honoring the sacrifice.”

Watcher Trinity knelt down beside your bath and made you look at her. Her eyes softened, and she told you,

“Yes, that is what is written, but it is not that simple. You have already honored us with your sacrifice. We have no grain. We have skinny, milkless goats, and our well is nearly dry. When we feast after your ceremony, the full bellies of your people will mean so much more than any perceived weakness that you are reluctant to show.” She grabbed your hand out of the warm water, holding it in hers, “If you need to cry, we will understand, and we will be comforting you from the crowd. Trust me, Omega.”

You tried to put it all out of your mind as you marched down the path, following behind your Watchers as they surrounded you, adorned in their own ceremonial garb. They had worn their armor and their long, red robes, carrying huge, black scythes like walking sticks, as was the custom of your clan. Your Alpha was walking in the front of your pack, guiding your clan to the meeting point. You could just see the white, canvas tops of the tents and yurts that had been constructed for the ceremony, meant to house hundreds of people for at least three days. Yours was the biggest, its adornment the most splendid. But that was little comfort to your frayed nerves. 

You were miles from home at this point, missing the comfort of your room and your books, knowing that you would never return there, and that perhaps your new Alpha would not allow you to keep any of your belongings from your old life. 

You’d heard horror stories from some of the Betas in your clan, tales of Alphas who used their Omegas like slaves, keeping them clad in irons, surviving in dark dungeons only to be used to breed and to give their Alphas carnal pleasure. 

While you were being prepared for this journey, a pair of Beta women had helped you paint your skin, drawing intricate symbols and prayers in gold flake, chittering about the ceremony and the feast without knowing what you had been through over the past six weeks.

“This is the first time I will witness a ceremony done in the old way,” Beta Lilia said. 

“Do you know which Alpha will claim you?” Lilia’s friend, Beta Tyran, asked you, not knowing how loaded her words were.

You shook your head; you didn’t even know how many Alphas belonged to Clan 141. Lilia gushed about them for you, taking the conversation out of your hands,

“Clan 141 has four Alphas! Can you imagine? I hear that they have an entire army of Omegas as well. Alpha Garrick is so handsome, and he has three gorgeous Omegas. They are almost too beautiful to look upon.. I saw him when I was at the central market once. He was leading a team, hunting the vagabonds who set fire to a farmer’s field, you remember when that happened? It was years ago now. He was so imposing. But, that other one was there, too.” 

She made a face that was strong enough to make you ask about it,

“Which one?”

“The Ghost, Alpha Riley. They say that no one has seen his face. He wears a terrifying skull mask. I heard from Yair that he has three Omegas as his guards, all masked as well. Yes! Guards! They have armor and weapons and huge, bulging muscles. Beautiful and lethal –”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beta Tyran interrupted, “No one would give their Omegas weapons. No one would let their Omegas out in the public markets! Imagine the danger.”

Lilia shrugged, “Yair said that these Omegas were the danger.” 

Then, you heard about Alpha MacTavish, a descendant from one of the ancient warlords, charming and fearsome. He kept two Omegas as his brides, always pregnant, but almost as fearsome as Alpha Riley’s guards. Alpha MacTavish often expected them to travel with their Beta friends, to take their children up into the mountains, hunting and fishing and exploring outdoors. All sorts of stories about his large, loving family. You silently hoped you would be claimed by him. It would be nice to live amongst Omegas and their cubs. 

“Which one is their Apex Alpha? There must be one in a clan with so many Alphas,” you mused, asking the girls since you did not know much about Clan 141 yourself.

The Betas shared a look, and then Lilia shook her head,

“You will not be claimed by him, Omega. Don’t worry.”

“Why?” You pried, using your influence to force her to tell you.

“His name is Alpha Price, the leader of Clan 141. He’s the deadliest man in the entire land, and he’s the one who destroyed Clan Konni.”

The weight of that news sank in, and the dramatic tone of her story had attracted other Betas and Watchers to gather around you to listen to her tale, 

“Alpha Price has never claimed an Omega. They say that he had tried. He had found one of Alpha Garrick’s Omegas to be very pretty, but she tried to take his knot and failed, so Alpha Garrick took her under his protection instead.”

“Failed?” Watcher Bhin asked, shocked by the implication. 

“My sister was a medic who served with the Alliance in the most recent skirmish, and the 141 helped defeat the rebels who were killing members of Clan Darrah a few years ago. She said that she served under the doctor who had healed Alpha Garrick’s Omega. Said he’d never seen anything like it before in his life. She was so strong, and yet…”

Lilia’s words hung heavy in the air, and all of the women looked at each other and then at you, suddenly feeling the weight of your sacrifice, ashamed at their earlier levity. Tyran shook her head and patted you on the arm, 

“Don’t worry. Alpha Price will not claim you. You have nothing to worry about.”

That night, painted gold and covered in your black silks, you sat in your tent and meditated while you waited for the other clans to arrive. Your mind kept wandering to Alpha Price and his lonely existence. Had he really injured an Omega during his claiming of her? How large must his knot have been to do so? It made you shudder to think about it, and yet deep inside of you, your core warmed from the thought. If he imprinted on you…

But, imprinting was just a myth. Something only written in old texts as a footnote or a story. It was a part of the ritual of The Exchange, but it wasn’t real. 

“Omega,” Watcher Trinity interrupted your meditation and peeked her head into your tent, “It is time to present The Cloth.”

Clan 141 was here, then. 

The ritual of The Exchange began with The Shroud, which you were already wearing. Then, it was The Cloth. If all went well, it would then be The Meeting. And finally, The Ceremony.

The Cloth was a gift from the Omega to her new Alpha, a token of her affection and a chance for him to smell her scent for the first time. In ancient legends, this is when her true mate would imprint upon her, her Omegan scent bringing out his Alphic marks, dark spots or stripes across his neck and back, making him look like a big cat, ready to bite into her neck and claim her as his own. 

She tried to shake herself out of that fantasy world. All she could hope was that one of their Alphas would be drawn to her scent enough to accept her. Her people were depending on her.

“Here is your cloth, Omega. I embroidered it myself. I hope that it honors you,” Watcher Trinity handed you a wooden box, carved and adorned with great care, and when you opened it, you found a red silk square of fabric, sewn with the sigils and symbols of your clan in fine gold thread. You smiled up at your Watcher and reached out to hold her in your arms,

“It’s perfect, Watcher. Thank you for caring for me.”

You were both fighting off tears when she finally pulled away. You hoped that your Alpha would at least let you say goodbye after the ceremony, even if you might never see her again. 

Watcher Trinity and all of the other women left you alone again in your tent, giving you privacy to prepare The Cloth. You made yourself naked, and you began to rub the silk across your neck and glands, trying to soak your scent into the piece. Then, you wiped it between your legs, swiping up some of your wetness to coat the fabric. Usually, this would be enough. You could call your Watcher back into the tent and give her the box, and you would be done. 

But, something in your heart told you to try to call out your slick. You listened to your instincts, and you began to rub the soft fabric against your folds, bringing your own pleasure to a warm, shining height. Just when you thought you might not be able to do it, that your nervousness would make it too difficult or that you might black out again from the effort, you felt something inside of you slip free. Then, your hole was flooded, the orgasm making your vision go blurry and form spots at the edges, your whole body convulsing from the strength of your pleasure, and you had to lay down just to try and stay awake through your gushing bliss. 

You felt it coat the silk and your hand, a thick, milky slick, and your heart swelled with pride. You knew that a gift this special would sway the attention of at least one of their Alphas. You trusted in your skills and training that you were worthy of this ceremony and that your people would be saved. 

Sitting up, you carefully opened the box and returned The Cloth to its resting place, soaked with your scent. You took time to clean yourself up, stuffing wet blankets into your laundry packs and hiding them away, remaking your nest before your Watcher would know what you had done. You weren’t sure why you were keeping a secret from them, but you just felt like this was something between you and your Alpha. A promise, of sorts. 

You replaced your black silks and veil over your otherwise unclothed body and called your Watchers. They entered your tent along with Alpha Roan. 

His eyes widened as he approached you, taking the box from your hands. Quietly, as if knowing that this was an extremely private affair, he whispered to you, 

“What have you done, little Omega?”

“I am doing what needs to be done, Alpha. Please, deliver my message to my new Master.”

You use of the ancient terminology caught your clan Alpha off guard, but you were glad of it. If this was to be done in the old way, then you would withstand it, but you would also do it your way. You were the Omega, here, and you were the reason your clan would survive this struggle. It was time you started acting like the heroine that you were. You would be your people’s strength, no matter the cost.

“Very well,” Alpha Roan sighed, closing the box, calling out to your team, “Watchers, bring your Omega to The Cloth ritual.”

You were guided to the path again, leaving your tent behind and walking towards the big, outdoor theater. It was a crude coliseum of sorts, a large circular pit lined with rows and rows of carved seating that was cut into the land. People had already begun to line the viewing platforms, each clan decorated in their traditional garb. You felt proud to see the stripe of red where your people sat, holding each others’ hands and praying for your safe arrival. 

You were not greeted with raucous applause but instead with reverent silence. Alpha Roan walked in front of your Watchers, and you were the last one into the theater, dressed only in your sheer shroud, trying your best not to feel self-conscious about the fact that - because of the firelight - everyone could see your naked, painted body through the veil, even though you were covered head to toe in the organza. In the tent, the lighting was low and kept you in darkness, hiding your body under the thin silk. But, not here in the theater. Your skin was illuminated by the torches, and you knew that even your friends and neighbors could now see your most private parts. 

You made sure that your face did not give away your lingering shame. 

Alpha Roan took center stage, and you saw the Alphas of Clan 141 for the first time. 

Alpha MacTavish was standing between his two Omegas, and you mused that his oldest children must have stayed behind to care for his cubs. He was dressed in his Clan’s black gear, covered in armor like a gladiator, his head shaven into a mohawk, spiked and messy on the crown of his head. His body was huge and stocky, and the Omegas seated at his sides looked so tiny compared to his bulk. But, they were strong. Their bellies were round with the promise of future cubs, and their skin and hair glowed like the stars. 

Alpha Garrick stood next to him, his Omegas seated together to his right, dressed in the finest robes you had ever seen. He clearly had a type, and you thought that they looked like triplets, all decorated in jewels and gold, riches you’d never even dreamt of. Their Alpha was every bit as handsome as the stories had promised. He had pouty, full lips that were curled in a snarky sort of smile, and his soft brown eyes exuded pure confidence. His hands were wide and powerful, resting on his curved blade that lay sheathed at his hip. 

Alpha Riley was masked, as you had been told, as were his Omegas. They were not seated, and every bit of armor that was strapped to his hulking body was also strapped to them. They had glittering knives, bows, arrows, and slings, looking like they could win their own war by themselves. Their bodies were heavily muscled, and all four of them seemed as tall as Alpha MacTavish, standing proudly in leather boots. 

Then, you saw Alpha Price. He was holding a large wooden stick, at least seven feet tall, with hundreds of notches sliced into the side. You wondered what he was keeping track of, and you shuddered to know. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his hair was cut high and tight on the sides. He was certainly bigger and better muscled than each of his men, but that was not what you noticed about him first. It was his eyes. They were piercingly blue, like glacial ice, and they were looking right at you. Hungry. 

Something inside of your core tightened under his scrutiny, but Alpha Roan’s voice shook you from your trance,

“Clan Arlos welcomes Clan 141 to The Exchange. We present you with our offering, an unmated Omega, 26 years of age, fully trained in the old ways of our people. She is our greatest gift, and we ask for your acceptance of our sacrifice.”

Alpha Roan held up the box with The Cloth inside for all to see. He set it on the large, marble altar in the middle of the stage and backed away from it, waiting for the other Alphas to take part in the ritual. 

Alpha Price spoke, and your body nearly trembled at the sound of his deep, purring voice. You were more nervous than you thought, and you tried to breathe to manage yourself. 

“We will consider your honorable offering, Clan Arlos.”

With that, he slammed his huge stick against the stony ground and Alpha MacTavish stepped up to the altar. He opened the box, and along with the other Alphas in attendance, his body had a visceral reaction. His hands went to touch the cloth and he brought it to his nose, smelling your scent with a sort of wonder and amazement. 

Then, to your great relief, he raised his hand, palm outward, as a show of his acceptance of your scent. If you accepted him as well, you would be mated. 

But, the slamming sound of the stick shook you out of your celebrations. Alpha Price called up Alpha Garrick. 

This was most unusual. Typically, only one Alpha had to agree. It wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. Even if Alpha MacTavish’s scent did not stir your heart, you would still submit to him as expected. This was not a marriage of love but of convenience. 

MacTavish looked back over his shoulder at Price, just as shocked as you were. His Omegas looked even more taken aback, strangely offended that you would not automatically join them. But, Alpha MacTavish returned the cloth to the box and made room for Garrick, disappointed and visibly confused. 

Alpha Garrick opened the box and buried his face against The Cloth, breathing in once, twice, and then tasting the fabric, right in front of everyone. It was his right, but it was a little audacious. 

His palm went up, high in the air, and his Omegas smiled and held each other’s hands, excited at your acceptance. 

Another loud slam. Another rejection. 

You may still end up with MacTavish or Garrick after negotiations, you remembered, but you were now wondering why Alpha Price had chosen to test you against all three of his men before making a decision. It was very odd. Alpha Roan looked greatly concerned. 

Alpha Riley approached the altar, his gloved hands prying open the box, then, he lifted the bottom of his mask to reveal his mouth and nose. The slightest murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. He bent to smell your scent, and he raised his hand in the air, signaling his acceptance before replacing his mask. You thought you caught the hint of a smile just before his pale lips disappeared beneath the skull plate again. 

Slam! The stick pounded against the floor.

All of Clan 141 turned to look at Alpha Price at once. Your heart stopped. Why would he… Why would Alpha Price want to undergo The Cloth ritual himself? He had no Omega. Surely, he wouldn’t claim you now, not after what had happened. You watched Alpha Garrick’s Omegas. One of them stared at Alpha Price with wide, glossy eyes. You thought that it must be his prior candidate for a mate. She was afraid for you. They were all afraid.

All eyes were on Alpha Price as he approached the altar, and the entire theater was silent as he took The Cloth in his hands. He lay it out flat, in no rush, inspecting the wet stain that you had left for him, using his thumb to feel the fine, gold embroidery. Then, his eyes darted up to yours. He was the first one to look at you while he held The Cloth to his nose, that icy gaze making you tremble with anticipation. 

You were so lost in his eyes that you didn’t see what was stirring the crowd. There was a loud gasp and then an explosion of whispers. You looked around, trying to understand what was happening. Then, when he tucked The Cloth into his breast pocket, keeping you for himself, you saw it. 

Long, red lines began to stain his skin like lightning. All of his veins tattooed themselves across his neck, and although his armor was covering his shoulders, you knew that the marks would be there as well. 

Alpha Price had imprinted for you. 

Then, he silenced the crowd by raising his right hand, palm up, staring at you the entire time. 

You were whisked away, surrounded by your Watchers, hearing Alpha Roan’s voice behind you, sounding like protest, but you couldn’t make out the words. Compared to the initial silence, the area erupted in a shattering din, clans shouting and yelling over each other, the drama from the ritual dividing the people. 

You thought you would be taken back to your tent, but you were brought to a large lake about five hundred yards from the theater. It was quiet again. No one was allowed to follow you here, it seemed. 

Watcher Trinity tried to explain in a rushed whisper, helping you climb into a boat and rowing you out to the middle of the lake,

“There is a dispute for your claiming. Alpha Roan will negotiate new terms, and Clan 141 must decide who will be your Alpha. It will be alright, Omega. It’ll be alright.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself more than you.

“What now?”

“Because there is not just one Alpha who has claimed you, they will undergo a ritual called The Trial. It is a fight; a test of will. Whichever Alpha can win will be granted the right to appeal to you first. If you reject him, then you will be given a chance to hear the appeal from the second.”

“So, it will be up to me, then?”

“Yes. Alpha Price has put the choice in your hands. Very odd, and not in our custom, but we must honor his wishes. You will wait here for the winner.”

You looked around. You were now in the middle of the lake, and there was a platform lingering just below the water. It was a wide stone block, about three meters wide in each direction. Watcher Trinity helped you out of the boat and you stepped tentatively onto the platform. 

“Will you wait with me?” You asked, feeling the uncertainty and fear finally get the better of you. 

“No, my Omega. I cannot. These waters are forbidden to Betas. Only Alphas and Omegas can touch it. Take this. It is your flare. If you are in trouble, if he tries to get to you, fire it high into the sky and we will rescue you. You can do this. I know you are strong. Wait patiently for your Alpha,” she paused, grabbing your hand, “I realize you are doing this for us, but please, follow your heart.”

“I will, Watcher.” 

So, you waited. You meditated, standing in an inch of cool lake water as you tried to commune with the land around you. And you waited some more. Hours passed until, finally, you saw torches. Your Watchers lined one side of the lake, and they greeted the newcomers. Then, you saw him. Alpha Price was being stripped down by your Watchers. They took his weapons from him, and then his clothes, making him naked on the shoreline. He craned his neck, trying to look for you in the lake, but it was dark and you were dressed in black. 

You could see him just fine, though. His huge body was covered in short, curly hair, dense and dark against his skin. His muscles bulged and popped as he peeled away his layers of clothing. They left his undergarments on, little more than a linen loincloth. Then, you saw your Watchers attach a huge, metal collar around his neck. They clamped it together with a padlock in the back, and a huge chain was attached at the latch. 

They bound his hands, chaining them together, and then loaded him into the boat. They rowed toward you with his back facing the platform, and as he got closer, you saw his imprint markings, red and raised like jagged scars across his neck and shoulders. Your scent had marked him permanently. The welts would go down, and the red would fade, but it would always be there, evidence of his imprinting. 

The boat reached you, and he climbed out of it, sitting on the opposite side of the platform from you, just far enough to be out of range for your scent. 

His eyes found yours again, staring at you through your veil, finding your gaze with a natural ease. He held a small box in his hands, and you thought you saw the phantom of a smile across his lips as you looked over his face. 

The boat rowed to shore, dragging the long chain all the way back, and you were alone with him. It was quiet for a long while. You were just staring at each other, studying each other, trapped in a silent battle. 

You looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time his cut, bloody knuckles, and he saw the worry cross over your eyes.

“They’re fine,” he said quietly, “My men. If that’s what you were wondering.”

“But, you triumphed over them, clearly,” you replied, not trusting your own voice. 

He chuckled a bit, sighing, 

“I did.”

“You fought for me, then.”

The laughing stopped, and he lifted his chin, proudly, 

“I did.”

“And you are here for my acceptance.”

He didn’t respond to your cue, but instead, he took the box in his hands and slid it across the platform, skittering it along the surface of the water, making little splashes as it landed in front of you. 

You reached for it, opening it up to reveal a shining key. 

“Throw it in the lake,” he commanded you, using his Alpha’s voice to bend your will. 

It shocked you, and you were so close to obeying, but you stopped, cutting your eyes at him,

“What is this?”

“Throw. It. Omega.”

His voice seared through your blood, calling to you with old magic. You fought hard to keep your mind under your own control, 

“Stop! Stop it. Tell me what this is, Alpha.”

“It unlocks my collar. Otherwise, if I make so much as a shift in your direction that they don’t like,” his head turned to look back toward your watchers, “They will pull me into the lake, and I will drown.”

“And if I unlock it…”

“Then, you will be my mate,” his tone turned vitriolic then, “And you will die.”

You let his words sink in, your curiosity overcoming your fear,

“You believe your knot cannot be taken.”

He spat back, 

“My belief is not –”

“But, it’s not up to you,” you interrupted him, “Is it?”

The shock that washed over his bright eyes filled you with a sort of sick satisfaction. You should be afraid of him, but your roles were reversed out here on this rock, and you were holding him under your command. 

“Toss that key, girl. MacTavish fought hard for you. He’ll care for you. He’s a good man.”

“Are you a good man?”

“No,” he growled, his eyes dropping to the water, examining the chains around his own hands, inspecting them for the bloodstains that he obviously thought should be there. 

“I am here for my people, Alpha Price. I am not looking for a husband. I am a resource to be traded for other resources. My clan needs The Exchange. Our people are starving, and I –”

“I would not let them starve,” Price’s eyes shot back up, indignant that you would suggest that he would leave you and your clan without food or water. 

You let yourself smile slightly, teasing him, 

“Spoken like a good man.”

He twisted his lips over his teeth, but he stayed quiet. You continued to torment him, 

“Why did you raise your hand for me?”

He sighed, sitting forward, sloping his shoulders toward you,

“I couldn’t help it. My Alpha…He…” He paused, searching for the words, “I could smell you through the box. I knew you from the moment I saw you walk through the arena. And when my men all raised their hands for you, I knew you would be accepted as our Clan Omega. You are mine in every way that matters. And I cannot have you.”

His voice was full of bitterness. You wanted to smell him. What were the chances that he was your true mate? One-sided imprinting was rare, but true mates were one in a million. 

You stood, surprising him, and he jolted back, sitting up right. The chain around his wrists clattering. You looked over at the shoreline. Your Watchers held the long chain around his neck, heavy and sagging into the black water, ready to yank it tight if he lunged for you, if he fell prey to his Alphic instinct to breed you. 

He watched you approach, seeing how the water rippled with every step you took, gazing upon the dripping silks that clung to your legs, devouring you with his eyes. You stopped in front of his crossed legs, Knowing that he could smell you now. Your pussy was shielded only with a few layers of silk, and you watched him flare his nose, sniffing you right in front of his face, blowing a slow exhale of air through his lips, making the organza billow between your legs. 

“Can I smell your scent, Alpha?” You whispered, your voice slicing through the silence of the still lake. 

His chains clattered as he twisted his head to look up at you, peeling his eyes away from your pretty pussy to meet your gaze. Then, he bent his head to one side, giving you his neck, showing you his scent gland, a sea of red stripes emanating from its center. 

You bent over him, closing the gap, steadying yourself by laying a gentle hand on his huge shoulder. Then, you took a long pause and breathed him in. His scent swirled through your body, wrecking your other senses. It was only him. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Your Alpha. Your mate. Your true mate. 

You felt the red marks of your imprint streak across your skin, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw them branch through your veins and across your gland just as his had done. 

The click of a lock made his eyes flash back to you, and with that movement, his heavy collar tumbled into the lake, the drag of the chain singing as it scraped the side of the platform. 

“What have you done, my Omega?” Price breathed. 

It was the second time you’d been asked that question. Your response was still the same:

“I am doing what needs to be done, Master. I am giving myself to you, my true mate.”

The boats were in the water the moment the collar slipped from his neck. The Watchers were on you in moments, and Price’s Beta soldiers were there to collect him. You watched as they rowed you two apart, taking you back to your camps to prepare for the ceremony. 

Your Watchers were in a rush. There were only a few hours until sunrise. Your wet robes were switched out for red ones, and a red veil adorned your head. Underneath, you were rubbed and painted and sprayed with oils, until finally, Watcher Trinity came forward with a bowl of salve. She had made it herself, you could tell. She cared for you so deeply. 

“I trust you, Omega. I know you know what you’re doing. But, please take this. It will help your muscles relax for him, and it will make it easier to bring on your natural defenses.”

She was being coy, avoiding using the word to refer to your slick, knowing that you had your own method of calling it forth using your special power. But, you took it from her anyway, and after you were left alone again to meditate, you used two fingers to massage it into your hole, feeling its effects begin to warm you, making your flesh supple and pliant. 

A hand curled around your tent flap, pulling it open. Instead of your Watcher, you saw one of Garrick’s Omegas. It was her, the one who had failed to take your Alpha’s knot.

She stepped inside,

“May I speak with you?”

You nodded, motioning for her to sit,

“Yes, but I’m afraid I already know what you are about to say.”

Her eyes widened, 

“If you know, then why have you accepted this? Alpha MacTavish was his second. He is not to your liking? His Omegas are kind and –”

“No, they were all to my liking. I am eager to join your pack in whichever way I can, but Alpha Price is my true mate.”

You showed her your skin from under the red silks, knowing she could not see them through the red of the veil. She gaped at them, 

“Your… true mate? He could… This could kill you, Omega. I don’t want to see you come to harm, and it would destroy him. I saw how he was after my accident. I nearly blamed myself for his deep sorrow.”

“I trust my training, Omega, and I am so grateful for your support, but he is my mate. What is meant to happen to me, will.” You stood with her, seeing your Watchers hovering just outside the tent, signaling them that you were ready to leave. 

“Then, I trust you as well. The others are so excited to meet you. I wish you an easy path, and I hope your ceremony is just as you want it to be. After this, you will be our Clan Omega, and I will serve you until the end of my days.”

She kissed your cheek through your veil and left you to be delivered back to the altar. 

For a long time, you had wondered if this final walk away from your pack would be a sad one. You expected every step to be filled with hesitation and fear. But, the only thing you felt was joy. Your mate awaited you at the end of this long path, and you were ready to submit to him. He was worthy of your strength, and he would help you deliver your people from danger. You would rule beside him, helping him use the 141 for good, eradicating the evil from your land. 

The sun’s pink wash was rising out of the horizon line just as you reached the theater. The crowd was silent again, and you saw the pallor and shock painted on all of their faces. They were expecting a funeral instead of a feast. They had no idea why anyone would be so desperate as to sacrifice their only Omega to this Alpha, especially when it was not necessary. But, they didn’t realize that you were no prisoner. You were no one’s puppet. You were in charge, here, and your Alpha would breed you as you commanded him to. 

Your Watchers led you to the altar, kissing your hands through the thin cloth as they passed you to take their seats near Clan Arlos, tears in their eyes and staining their cheeks, and finally, your clan Alpha approached you.

“Alpha Roan,” you greeted him. 

“Little Omega,” he smiled, kissing your hands just as your Watchers had done. He didn’t need to, but it was his way of showing everyone that he trusted your choice, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do,” you said, smiling at him through your red silk veil. 

Then, Alpha Price’s men came through the center of the theater, each of them bending to kiss your hands. But, instead of the back of your knuckles, they turned them over to kiss your palms, a sign that they would accept what you had to give them. Alpha Riley was first, and he lifted his mask to show you his mouth and chin, his kiss warm and tender against your skin. Then, Alpha Garrick knelt down, placing multiple kisses along your fingers and wrists, displaying his loyalty and respect. Finally, Alpha MacTavish knelt before you, daring to whisper to you as he kissed your palms, 

“Brave lass.”

You used your thumb to pet his lip, acknowledging his trust in you. 

Then, it was time for the Omegas to join you. They approached as a unit, not individually as their Alphas had done, and they helped you lay on the altar, guiding your body back onto the marble platform. They pulled at your silks, allowing the crowd to see your naked body, painted in fine brushes of intricate gold designs, of prayers and songs of your people, their symbols adorning you from neck to toe. Finally, they began to kiss you, licking and sucking at your mouth like lovers, showing their devotion to you as their clan Omega. 

As they kissed you, your skin began to flush hot, your body somehow knowing what was about to happen to you. The Omegas felt your fire against their lips, and they pulled your legs apart, each of them bending to lick and suck at your flower’s drooling petals, slurping and sucking up your creamy nectar. They were at your breasts, your neck, your belly, your hands and feet. You were overwhelmed with pleasure, shaking and trembling under their affection, yet moved by their deep loyalty. You knew you would be safe with them. They would care for you just as your clan had done. 

Then, you heard the familiar slam of a longstaff. Your Alpha had arrived. 

According to the ceremony, you were meant to be still and silent as a showing of your acceptance. If you moved or cried out in any way, you risked a clan war, as taking a mate without their consent was a dark offense. You had to prove to your people that you were here of your own free will, and even though you were feeling the static cling of apprehension beginning to worm its way into your chest, you tried to breathe through it, trusting your Alpha to lead you through this moment with his protective power. 

Your legs were lowered to the stirrup-style rests that were carved just below the stone table, keeping your knees wide apart, allowing your pussy to drip openly, glistening with the beginnings of your slick. You calmed yourself as they left you alone, each of them kissing you softly once more to show their reverence. 

Then, you heard the clatter of fallen armor. He was undressing, removing his warlord’s mantle and coming to you fully bare. You spotted him between the vee of your legs as he approached the dais, his imprint marks flushed a deep wine red, his body shining with the traditional oils, meant to give him another layer of aphrodisiacs, promoting his production of his seed, keeping his cock tall and hard. 

But, you knew that your imprint on his gland would do more than all of their drugs combined. He would kill every last person in this arena to get to you at this point, and although you had consented to this joining, you were no longer controlling it. He would take you, no matter what. 

Then, when he got close enough to your platform, you saw it. It was standing proudly against his thick, furry belly, dripping with precome and lubricants, glittering in the rising sun. His cock was immense. You had not practiced on one so large. And his knot was larger than your two fists pressed together. He was intact, and his foreskin was slipping down his flushed head, unable to contain the swelling glans. Your body threatened to quiver from your suspense, and you tried to move your mind into your meditative trance. 

As he approached, he did not go straight for his position between your legs. Instead, he walked around the front of the marble platform and bent to look you in your eyes, leaning his head down for a deep, heady kiss. He fed you his tongue and suckled on yours, letting it writhe inside of his mouth, rubbing against his own probing muscle.

He pulled away to gaze upon you, his eyes soft and full of joy. You smiled up at him, watching as he enjoyed the rest of your body, caressing your breasts, admiring your paintings. 

“Did my clan show you their loyalty, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you answered quietly. 

“Are you prepared for me to show you mine?”

“Yes, Master. I am,” you replied, giving him a brave face despite the absolute weapon that was slobbering for you against his belly. You wanted to taste it, but now was not the time. 

He returned to the base of your platform, kneeling in front of your wet hole, bending to place his mouth against you. He began to suck, pulling your soft lips into his mouth like he was starving, lapping up the beginnings of your body’s fluids, moaning from the taste and the smell of your scent. You wanted to moan, you wanted to pin his head to your trembling quim, but you didn’t dare move a muscle or make a single sound. Breathing in, breathing out, letting the sparks of an orgasm rush through you, bringing tears to your eyes from holding back so much pleasure. 

Your Watcher’s salve was almost too effective. It had made you pliant, but now you were beyond sensitive, able to feel the pound of your own heartbeat through your hole, desperate for something to press inside of you. You needed his cock. 

But, he did not give it to you. He just sucked and sucked and sucked, and his fingers began to rub along the entrance of your slippery hole, pressing down on your pussy’s walls, testing their strength. You fluttered for him, just like your Watchers had taught you, and you felt him stumble in his movements, shocked by your power. 

He stood between your legs, his face and beard soaking from his meal, letting you drip off of his chin like a messy hound drinking from a river. Then, to test your resolve, he teased you with a little bit of meanness, stepping forward to let his cock lay along your body, measuring himself on the outside of you. He reached far beyond your navel, his lubed phallus warm and heavy, his knot resting in the softness of your folds, and you could feel him throbbing for you. 

You didn’t dare move, but you wanted to cradle his cock in your hands, to rub up and down his length, to feel the smoothness of his head and the firmness of his knot. But, you stayed stock still, showing the crowd that you would not waver. There was some soft chittering from the clans, the shock at his size obviously enough to break onlookers out of their respectful quiet. 

Then, he began notching his head at the entrance of your pussy, letting the tip slide up and down your tight ring of muscles that guarded your entrance.      

“Last chance, Omega. Call it off. Cry out, and my own men will cut me down,” he bade you under his breath, having a hard time holding his words and sentences together, his voice shaking in his throat. 

You looked up at him with closed lips, making a point to give him a soft smile as a response. 

No deal. 

You pulsed your muscles again, making your pussy lap up his sloppy precome like a little mouth, watching as he was torn apart by your action, no matter how minor. 

So, without any other choice, he fed himself into you. It was a fearsome experience, at first. You weren’t sure if you could actually handle him. But, you breathed through the stress, relaxing your body, finding that deep, secret place inside of you, making your slick drop down for him, flooding your hole to welcome him in. 

The confusion that painted his face was so satisfying. He couldn’t understand the sheer warmth and comfort he was experiencing. His cock was being sucked into you, deeper and deeper, and finally, you felt his knot. 

He pulled all the way out of you, and sheathed himself all the way back in, always reaching to that one spot, just above his bulbous anchor, and then starting his process over again. Each time his cock fucked its way through your body, humping himself into you, creamy, milking noises filled the quiet, open-air arena. The whole ensemble could hear him invading your hole, the lurid slap of skin on skin loud and unashamed. 

His phallus was large enough to rub against your most sensitive spot over and over, bullying it into producing more and more slick, making you come just by dragging his heavy cockhead over it, in and out, in and out, pounding into you with almost reckless need. 

You came for him, and your body began to shiver from the overwhelming bliss, but you held your voice. You tried to still yourself, not wanting to show weakness, but there was nothing you could do. You were shattered by his cock, coming over and over again. It was an endless wave. You had no idea where one started and the other stopped. 

You could taste blood in your mouth from biting the inside of your cheek. Still, you pushed through it, testing yourself with every push and pull of your body. 

His huge hands pawed at your hips and breasts, squeezing you, watching your plump flesh jiggle with every cruel strike of his hips. Your Alpha took your own slick and began to rub it all over your skin, swirling it around your nipples, letting it smear across your belly from his palm. Then, he painted himself, taking it from your well-fucked hole and rubbing it across his scent gland, down his chest, matting his hair with your wetness. 

Then, you felt his precome begin to pump out of him. You knew it had begun because this was when your slick was meant to wash through you, but there was no space for anything else. So, it began to pour out of you and over his knot. Every time he pushed it against your body, it threatened to slip into your hole, and you were filled with a twisted excitement, ready for it to be stuck inside of you, to churn and grind against your insides, to trap you in a blinding, rageful bliss. You nearly cried out from the heavy want you felt in your chest. 

“You ready for my knot, pretty Omega?” He growled, no longer speaking to you softly. There was no gentleness left within him. 

He shoved you back across the dais, climbing up onto it with you, breaking every protocol by doing so, but knowing there wasn’t a single other Alpha in attendance who would do anything about it unless you asked them to. But, he trusted you, lifting himself above you, bringing his face to your face, kissing you and beginning to lick your scent gland, making you see stars. 

Would he really bite you right here in front of all these people while you were about to take his knot? It was beyond intimate. Not only was it private, but it was dangerous. It was when an Alpha was most vulnerable. The audacity of this man shook you to your core. 

“Bite me, Omega. Please take me. Claim me as yours, sweetheart. Show them that you are mine. My Omega.”

His voice was ragged and deep, a hoarse purr of commands, all of which you were happy to obey. You began to lick his neck, putting your mouth over his gland as you began to suck at the round swell of flesh. Then, just as you canted your hips, feeling his knot slip inside of you, shoving and burying itself within the tight sheath of your pussy, you used your muscles to yank him the rest of the way in, and you bit down on his neck, hard, your body seizing from a hard, ruthless orgasm. . 

You heard the crack of his gland, and you felt him sink his fangs into yours, the pain and the pleasure mixing within you like a drug, his cock firing rope after rope of searing hot come into your belly, flooding your womb with his spend. He pulled his mouth away and stared into your eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his face full of disbelief, 

“My love…”

You kissed him, taking his lip into yours, suckling on it, trying to guide him back down from his tantric high. He was struggling above you, stuck deep inside of you, unable to stop himself from dumping heavy loads of his come into your body, his cock pulsing and throbbing with each burst of his cream. 

He rested his head on your neck, returning his mouth to your gland, and every time he licked it, now, you felt your pussy twist around him, threatening to slam you with another orgasm. You licked him, too, hearing him cry out against your skin, feeling the mirror of your sensations, his heavy phallus jerking as you sucked on his broken gland. 

Finally, he was able to rock back and forth, letting his knot slip out of you before popping it back inside, fucking you with it just like he did with his cock. He twisted his hips forward, driving into you with all of his strength, and then he would pull himself back out, the swell of his knot increasing with each thrust until, on the last thrust, he was finally trapped, unable to remove himself from your core. 

Now, though, it was your turn. You began to use your muscles to push and pull him from the inside, fucking him like a sleeve of smooth, soaked warmth, jerking his shaft up and down with your insides.

“Oh, fuck…” He whispered, not expecting your skills to be so advanced, but you had trained hard for this moment. You weren’t about to let it go to waste. 

You moved him inside of you, letting his knot take the brunt of your efforts, squeezing it like a fruit, making sure all of his juice melted into your skin. You made him come like this again, using the salve that your Watcher had given to you as an advantage, knowing that the heightened sensitivity you felt was now being passed on to him. He filled you up, his knot plugging your hole, preventing any of his seed from leaking out, and your tummy was swollen from his load, round and full for everyone to see. 

He sat up on his heels, looking down at you with his eyes full of adoration and wonder, watching your strong abdominals clench and twist as you used them to help you work inside of yourself, edging him over and over before pulling him down into the depths of another hard come with you. 

His hands went to the bulge of fluid in your belly, most of it flooding into your womb, unable to escape anywhere else. Your Alpha caressed your skin, marveling at the fullness. Then, he looked down at your stretched hole, playing with your clitorus that had been forced out from under its hood due to the sheer size of his knot, all of your skin bowing around it and pulled tight. 

Your Alpha forced you to come like this, milking him hard, trying not to make a sound but giving away your mind-bending pleasure with shaking, whimpering breaths. 

“That’s a good Omega. So full of my come.”

You smiled up at him, enjoying the full feeling of his come inside of you. But, you were losing your strength, and he could feel it. Alpha Price leaned over you again, grinding himself down into you and helping you reach one last orgasm, pulling himself along with you, squirting the last of his spend into your pussy. Then, he carefully twisted his cock out of you, watching the gush of his come coat the marble platform, dripping out of you and down the sides of the dais. 

You were so empty and weak, but you were being lifted, cradled in his arms, and the whole arena burst into revelrous applause. The feast had begun, but not for you. You would be in your Alpha’s tent, and there you would remain until he bred you, making sure that you were laden with his cub, sharing food and drink with him in bed while you were stuck on his knot, traditionally until sunset when you would be presented to the clans as the new Apex Omega, destined to rule beside him forever. 

“Are you done being quiet, my Omega?”

“Yes, Master,” you whispered, nestling into his broad chest. 

“Good,” he smiled, “I need to hear you scream for me.”

“And I need my Alpha to breed me. I need your knot again, Master. Don’t pull it out.”

“I’m at your command, my love,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your temple, smearing his own salve across your swollen flesh, working his cock until he was hard again. 

When you felt his knot for the second time, you knew you had made the right choice. Your people were safe, and so were you. You weren’t sure if it was the high of your claiming or the truth that you felt in your heart, but you were eager to be dripping with his come every night. Trapped underneath your Alpha was right where you belonged, knotted and full of his love. 

Seriously, send help. I was too ashamed to even reread it for typos. I'm so sorry.

[kentopedia]

fresh air

FEATURING. levi ackerman x f!reader — wc: 4.5 k

SUMMARY. everyone on levi's squad wonders where he disappears to when they get time off in wall sina.

CONTENTS. fluff, secret relationship, the scout find out levi is in love, doctor!reader, established relationship, levi gets a minor injury, canon universe, she/they pronouns for hange, no warnings bc this is all just very sweet

based on this ask here ♡

The first time that Levi met you, he’d been too rough around the edges, a newly freed man from the underground with one too many health issues and a sickly complexion.

Against his will, Erwin had sent him in for a medical examination, a requirement he’d been forced to endure before officially joining the Survey Corps. It seemed a life with minimal sunlight had lasting effects on the human body. Levi thought that was a reasonable assumption.

He’d suffered through the check-ups, holding his tongue when the doctors prodded at him with invasive hands and told him what nutrients he needed more of. He’d taken their advice, for the most part.

You were still a nurse back then, holding a strong desire to help people and eyes with an innocence that would never last. When the doctor had been running late one evening, you’d come in to check Levi’s pulse, asked if he had any pain.

He’d stared at you for a moment, and for the first time in his life, fumbled for the right words to say.

Trivial things like beauty had never been important to Levi, but your smile had been the only image in his mind for days.

You’d visited him again for another check-up the next day.

And Levi was, really, perfectly fine. He knew there was nothing seriously wrong with him. Though, you had been so eager to do your job, so happy to help a fragmented man, that he let you take care of him for a week and, ridiculously, pretended that he was in much more pain than he actually was.

A hesitant sort of bond started between you after that. You were still intimidated by his brashness, and he was too afraid of his own feelings to ever let himself accept that he found you enjoyable to be around.

Although, whatever he felt ceased to matter after that. Levi officially became a scout, lost the only two people that cared about him, and hardened even more.

Years passed before he saw you again, and by then, you’d become a doctor, saved more patients than you lost, and built a name for yourself.

Levi saw you much more once he became the Captain of the Survey Corps; soldiers on his squad were always getting injured, and he nearly died on a couple missions.

Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen for you. Too quickly and too easily, especially for a man like him who knew better than to care for people.

Still, he figured he was allowed at least one good thing in life, and he’d chosen that to be you. The pretty little doctor who had snuck into his heart.  

“Levi?” Hange was in front of him, snapping a hand in front of his eyes, overly concerned and much too close. “Are you losing more blood? You look pale.” She prodded at him, a humored grin spreading across her mouth. “Someone might think you’ve been living underground.”

Hange laughed loudly and Levi pushed them away, irritated, and worn-out from the mission.

“I’m fine,” he said, though his ribs ached, and he couldn’t deny the pain that lingered in his side. “Just get off of me. You smell foul.”

Hange made a face. “Just plug your nose then.” A slender finger poked at his ribs again, and he recoiled, hissing. “See! You’re not okay.”

Levi’s aggravated response went unheard as Hange called a doctor over, waving their hands dramatically. A scowled embedded even deeper into his features.

“I’m fine, shithead. Stop being dramatic.”

Though his protests didn’t matter much. A man in a white coat came by after Hange’s call, adjusting a spectacle as he tucked parchment under his arm. “Is everything alright?”

“Can you please have the captain checked out? He was injured outside the walls, and I’m not sure our first aid did well at stitching him back up.”

The doctor looked over Levi skeptically, peeling back the wrapping around his middle that had already dried brown with blood. “We’ve got a lot of people in need of assistance. I can try and get a nurse to help you, but—”

“Where’s the other doctor?” Levi knew your name, of course he did, but he was afraid if he said it something would change on his face. “The younger one.” 

“There are other squads that ended up worse off. She’s taking care of them at the moment.” the gray-haired doctor said, looking at his parchment. “I’ll tell her to make her way over here. I don’t know how long it will be.”

Levi could tell what the man was thinking: that he was Captain Levi, and they could afford to lose the other scouts, but they couldn’t afford to lose him. Still, Levi’s wound had been treated sufficiently. At the very least, he didn’t feel like he would pass out again any time soon.

“I can wait.” Levi looked at the other battered members of the Scouts, some of them with slices up their arms and deep gashes in their skulls. It was a sickening sight really. No one should’ve been worried about him. “These soldiers have worse injuries than I do. You should treat them first.” He glanced at Hange beside him, the glasses making their eyes look even rounder. “And take Hange while you’re at it. Maybe you can find out if there’s a cure for being an idiot.”

The doctor cracked a smile. “Come with me then, Section Commander. You seem to be free of injuries, and we need some help taking care of these soldiers.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll do everything I can.” Hange nodded and stood to follow the doctor. She sent Levi one last look before leaving. “Don’t let your wound get infected because you’re trying to play the hero.”

“I’m fine, Hange. Seriously.” He blinked at her, his expression blank, and Hange sighed before disappearing into the crowd, into the mess of carnage from another fruitless journey outside the walls.

Levi waited for a half hour, watched as more soldiers were led away from the central room into the private wing of the hospital. Someone had cracked a window, and a warm breeze of fresh air fanned into the anteroom.

It was starting to get hot again. He dreaded the summer missions that burned his skin.

The chair was stiff, but he could’ve dozed off in it, suddenly feeling more light-headed than he had when Hange left. Levi shifted, bringing a palm down to his wound. The pain was starting to get worse again. When he drew his hand away, there was more blood.

Shit. That wasn’t a good sign. The stitches mustn’t have been done properly.

He started to stand, beginning to wonder if he should just stitch the wound back up himself, when you finally approached, and the sight of you sent a wave of relief over him. You were like his very own guardian angel, illuminating the hospital with nothing more than a hopeful smile.

Immediately, Levi softened, wondering how you could get more and more beautiful every time he saw you.

“Captain Levi.” Your eyes dropped to the seeping bandage, the shoulder that wasn’t sitting right. He’d dislocated it, twisted a little too funny when slicing up a titan. The tissue there had probably worn down too much. “Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for me.”

“My injuries are minimal. Thought I’d take my chances until someone competent could stitch me up properly.”

Your jaw clenched, and though you reached your hand out to him, you retracted it, remembering there were other people around. With a sigh, you pointed over your shoulder instead. “Come with me.”

Levi followed you down the hall, to a shimmering white room that smelled too much like flowers. You gathered a few supplies, and he watched you, taking a seat on the bed.

Without a word, you began unwrapping the bloody gauze, cleaning the dark wound with unfazed, sharp eyes. His chest was exposed to you, the shirt already removed.

“At least tell me you missed me before you get me undressed,” Levi said, his tone dry as you pressed a warm cloth to his skin.

You narrowed your eyes, your expression exhausted. He was certain you’d been working nonstop since the Survey Corps got back. “I did miss you, Levi,” you said quietly, wringing the blood out of the cloth. “I always miss you.”

Against his will, Levi’s heart panged in his chest. It was almost too easy for you to get a rise out of him.

You worked in silence, and Levi let you—you’d done this many times for him before, and he knew how much you hated being disturbed.

Though, you looked so sweet with your lip jutted out in focus, and he relaxed, unable to stop himself when he leaned forward to give you a kiss.

To Levi’s disappointment, you saw him coming and pushed him away, placing a bloody hand in front of your mouth to stop him. “Levi!” you shouted in exasperation, though you were far too used to him to be surprised. “I’m not done.”

He sighed, leaning back once more, though the smallest of smiles was on his lips. “I thought you were the best doctor in the interior,” he said mockingly. “Shouldn’t you be a little faster than this?”

“You should work on being more patient. It’s only been a few minutes.”

“Has it?” Levi snorted. It felt like an eternity. You were there in front of him, so lovely and focused, and he could hardly contain himself. He’d spent weeks away from you, and he couldn’t even sneak a quick kiss.

You laughed, the sound stirring up butterflies in his stomach, and he relented, the seriousness in your expression pulling him back to reality. He sat quietly and left you to do your work.

Your hands were soft against his skin as you sealed up the wound, fixed up the stitches, so gentle that he almost forgot about the pain entirely. Having you to watch certainly helped keep him distracted.

Finally, you stepped away, satisfied, and grinned. “Alright. All done.”

“You mean it?” Levi leaned forward, and the ache in his abdomen pinched. “You’re not going to wipe your disgusting palm on my face if I try to kiss you?”

A part of him was, completely serious, but another laugh escaped you as you wiped your hands on a clean rag, the blood still staining your palms. But it was his blood and Levi figured if it had already dirtied his own skin, it didn’t matter much. 

He kissed you, momentarily, and the feeling of your lips brought him entirely back to life. Levi wasn’t sure what about you changed him so completely, made him feel a jolt of energy zap into him every time you were around, but he was addicted to it.

He took a breath, for a moment, his expression gentle, though he didn’t have the opportunity to kiss you again. The door had been thrown open, slamming against the wall, and Hange strolled in, wearing a wide smile and bright eyes.

“Levi,” Hange said, much too loudly, and he recoiled, wondering if they’d seen him kiss you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Probably not then. Hange would have made that the first topic of conversation.

You smiled politely beside Levi, already placing a professional distance between you. He craved the warmth, missing you again already. “How are you, Hange? I take it you didn’t get too banged up on the mission?”

Hange laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder like old friends. “Not a single scratch.”

“A miracle, really, with the way you’re always throwing yourself into danger.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I always play it safe.” Hange turned back to Levi; lips pulled up to reveal a white grin. “I see you’re feeling better then. The doctor got you all patched up?”

“I always do,” you hid a smile behind your hand, careful not to touch it to your mouth.

Levi sighed, hating how well you two got along. He might as well have told Hange about your relationship in the very beginning. You two saw each other every time the Scouts were in the interior wall. “Didn’t you have something to tell me, Hange?”

Hange scrunched her face up, before recognition passed through it. “Right,” they said, straightening. “Erwin’s requested your presence in a meeting with Commander Pyxis and the Military Police. They’ve got a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure they do.” Levi struggled to his feet, feeling much older than he really was. He wondered when all of the hits to his body would start to catch up to him. “I’ll follow you out, then.”

Levi exchanged a look with you, conveying everything he couldn’t with Hange standing there.

“I’ll see you later then, Captain Levi. Hange.” Your smile was refined, corresponding to your current status, and you saluted like a good soldier would. Then, the two of them were off.

Hange tossed a grin over their shoulder once the two of them were outside the hospital, eyes crinkling behind thick lenses. “You look a little flushed there, Captain.”

Levi stared back at Hange indifferently, not an ounce of emotion in his cool eyes. Hange always teased him when it came to you, but he doubted she ever figured out the truth. “Is that so?”

“Why don’t you just confess your love already?” Hange said romantically, batting their eyes and holding clasped hands to her chin. “It’s been years Levi.”

“I’m sure you’re not insinuating I’ve got any sort of romantic feelings,” Levi said dryly. He was certain that he had not been blushing, and he pinched Hange’s cheek too, the pink tint there as well from the warm weather. “It’s not like it’s nearly summer.”

Hange swatted him away, their joyful expression falling as a pout formed on their lips. “Oh, you’re so boring, Levi. I’m only messing with you.”

Levi let out a weary noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, wondering how he’d managed to put up with the most insufferable person for years and years on end. “You sound like a teenager.”

After his mess of a meeting with the military police, Levi headed to one of the nicer homes at the edge of the city, an older building in Wall Sina that had managed to stay intact after the Female Titan incident.

It wasn’t his home, not really, but it was the only one he had outside of the military housing and the single private room he received as a commanding officer. And, it might as well have been his anyway—his clothes all hung in the closet, his teacups stuffed in a crowded cabinet. He was there more than he was anywhere else.

The door opened easily when he pushed the knob, and while he knew you were expecting him, he hoped you didn’t always keep it unlocked. The streets were too wrought with crime; a fact he was far too aware of.

When he opened the door, the scent of home and a freshly made meal invaded his senses, warming him to the very core of his soul. He slid his shoes off at the door, careful not to track in any mud.

You hadn’t heard him come in, too busy cutting up vegetables to throw into a pot. You hummed to yourself softly, distracted entirely by your own thoughts.

Levi smiled, admiring you for just a moment and taking in that second to carry it with him on his next mission. For so much of his life, he’d hardly had a home to come back to. It was nice to remember that he had a person waiting for him on the other side, someone that could be there for him in the moments that he didn’t want to be alone.

He snuck up behind you quietly, and you remained completely unaware until he wrapped his arms around your middle, relaxing into your body in a way he’d never been able to when he was away from you.

You jumped momentarily, but eased into his arms right after, recognizing his touch easily. One of your softer hands wrapped around his, the other still throwing chopped vegetables into the pot.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” yod, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, tranquil.

So much of his time had been spent in a world that was a living hell, trying to deal with the overarching mess that had started years ago, and being with you was the only time he could ever recover. The knowledge that he didn’t have to always be humanity’s strongest soldier with you gave him, at least, some semblance of peace.

“I hope I didn’t scare you,” he whispered, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he looked at the stew you were making. It was the best thing he had smelled in weeks, and Levi felt too spoiled after a childhood spent eating mud and garbage from the streets. “You could’ve waited for me to get home. I would’ve cooked something instead. I know you’ve been working all day, taking care of the Scouts.”

“Levi.” You pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, smiling into the delicate skin. “You’ve been gone for weeks. You probably haven’t had a proper meal since you left, and you were injured. I don’t want you to strain yourself.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m glad you’re home. You can get some rest now.”

You pressed a kissed to his nose, and no matter how many times you referred to your home as his as well, a fiery warmth bloomed inside of him.

“Me too.” Levi smiled at you tiredly, brushing his thumb over your lips before retracting. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“I’ll tell you when the food is ready.”

Levi nodded, and released you hesitantly, already wanting to be around you for every moment he had in Wall Sina. Instead, he headed towards the bathroom, where he knew the soap that he preferred would be waiting for him, just as he’d left it before.

“Levi?”

He turned at the sound of your voice. You were watching him with hearts in your eyes, the very expression something he would probably never been accustomed to.

“I love you.”

Levi softened, his feet melting into the floor entirely. “I love you too.”

Your face grew so bright, and you turned back to your task, newly invigorated. Levi had gotten better at saying the words, at accepting that you wouldn’t get taken away from him just because he cared about you.

It had been a long road, certainly, but somewhere along the way he’d started to become familiar with happiness.

“Levi, what do you think of this one?” You spun in a slow circle, making sure that he saw every angle of the dress. You were watching him with a skeptical look, suspecting that he wouldn’t be honest with you.

Which was maybe true. Levi didn’t know very much about what was in style. He just thought you looked nice in everything.

“It’s pretty,” he said, indulging you with a nod. “You look very pretty.”

Despite yourself, you grew warm, smiling at yet another compliment from him. He’d said the same thing about every dress, but he loved seeing the expression on your face, the twitch of embarrassment, even though you’d been together for years.

It was rare that the two of you got to do something so calming. You were meant to go to a ball in the upcoming weeks, gain some kind of recognition for your accomplishments as a doctor, and you were in desperate need something to wear.

Of course, you’d decided the moment that Levi was home would be the perfect time to go shopping.

Though, it didn’t matter. He would’ve gone with you anyway, even if you needed an outfit or not. Levi was just so incredibly proud of you. A part of him wished he could accompany you to the ball, even if being in a stuffy room with a crowd of pretentious, wealthy men sounded like the most undesirable event in the world.

“Well, which makes me seem like I know what I’m doing?” you asked him through the mirror, the tailor doing her best not to intrude on the conversation. “I like the blue one, but do I look too young?”

“Well, you’re not old,” Levi scoffed. “Besides, I hardly think you need new a dress to let people know you’re a professional.” Though, he mulled over the question regardless, mostly taking your inquiry seriously. You were making a face at him. “I like the blue one too.”

He liked them all, really. 

You smiled, letting the tailor finish up her job and Levi turned, wondering how much of a dent this would put in his wallet.

“I’ll just be a second,” you said, leaning down from your stool to kiss him. His lips curled up when they met yours. “Want to wait outside?”

“Sure.” Levi turned, and for a moment, swore he saw a flash outside, someone speeding past the window. When he looked closer, no one was there.

He ignored it, leaving a wad of cash with the store-owned and tried to remember that he no longer needed to save that money for another meal.

As he waited for you to finish up, Levi leaned against the wall, watching the people walk back and forth, paying him no attention at all. It was sometimes easy to forget that not everyone recognized him. Not everyone cared, really, that he was Captain Levi.

It was refreshing to be ignored.

“Levi,” you said wearily as you came out of the short building, and he knew what was coming next, knew what words would leave your mouth. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

“Consider it paying back a favor.” He fell into step beside you as you turned the corner, going down the narrow alley. 

You creased your eyebrows skeptically, trying to catch his eyes. The ones that had brightened minimally after a night of rest in an actual bed. “A favor for what?”

“I don’t know. Letting me live in your house? For cooking for me last night?” Your frown deepened, exasperated and Levi sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just accept the gift, you idiot. I was trying to do something nice.”

You gazed at him in disbelief for another moment before laughing, the seriousness evaporating. “You’re so sweet.” You grinned, and Levi thought that was hardly the word to describe him, but you seemed so happy that he didn’t say anything. “I appreciate it a lot. Thank you.”

“Come on,” Levi said, huffing when you tried to kiss him again. “We should go back home before I run into one of those intolerable brats from my squad.”

Though, Levi really regretted the words, wondering if there was some higher being out there who just lived to cause him grief. Not a moment later, he heard a familiar voice rounding the corner, getting much too close to where he was standing.

“Armin, look! I told you. I saw him with someone.”

Levi’s jaw tightened as Eren sprinted down the alley with his smarter blond friend in tow, and a dark-haired girl who never seemed to leave his side.

The three of them nearly ran into the two of you, skidding to a stop only when they noticed you both turning the corner, and gauged the unamused expression on Levi’s face.

“What are you two doing here? Don’t you have training or something?” Levi’s voice was stern, though he knew they had the day off, just as he did. Just as you did.

“Captain Levi!” Armin straightened, looking nervous under his tense gaze. Levi wondered what it would take for that kid to gain some confidence. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to intrude. Eren just said—”

“Eren said—” Eren began, but before he could continue, Hange had also come around the corner with Erwin, the two of them laughing like they’d found something very funny.

Levi wished he had his gear so he could start swinging the blades at all of them.

“Levi,” Erwin greeted him good-naturedly, and Hange was snickering beside him, their eyes glued to the minimal space between you and him. “Eren said there was an emergency this way. What seems to be the issue?”

That little shit. Levi could’ve kicked the stupid grin right off his face again.

“Did he?” Levi said, swallowing down his anger, his expression as nonchalant as usual. “I’ve got no idea what he could possibly be talking about.”

“Eren said you two were kissing.” Mikasa spared no time for idle conversation, her eyes as hard as his own as she made the comment in a bored tone. If Levi had to guess, she’d been pulled into the situation because Eren had caught them and couldn’t keep his nose out of other people’s business.  

And Hange, who had never been very good at holding back laughter, doubled over with tears gathering at the corners of their eyes.

“Oh,” you said beside him, embarrassed, and Levi softened, remembering that even though he’d kept the relationship a secret for your own safety, there really had never been a need to. You were never going to leave his life, not if he could help it, and he trusted the five people before him enough to keep it from becoming public knowledge. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, momentarily panicked. “That was my fault.”

Levi hated the look on your face; he never wanted you to look so disheartened again. He sighed. “Eren, you should learn to keep your mouth shut.”

At least, Eren had the good sense to sober up. His back became rigid, any humor disappearing from his face immediately. “Right, sir, I’m sorry. I just thought—”

“I’ve got the day off like the rest of you, don’t I? Maybe you should let us spend it in peace.” Levi boldly grabbed your hand, walking through the middle of the starstruck crowd, knowing he’d have to deal with their endless questions sooner than later.

For now, though, he just wanted a relaxing day with you by his side.

“Levi, wait! Why didn’t you tell me?” Hange’s dramatic cries rang out through the air as he glared at them over his shoulder, eyes narrowing so intensely it almost hurt.

Behind him, Eren’s cry of pain could be heard after Mikasa slapped him over the head. “Eren! I told you that was a bad idea.”

“Bye!” you said sweetly, like nothing had happened, and continued along with your hand in Levi’s, a stupid smile on your face.

When you were far enough away from lingering ears, Levi looked over to you, shaking his head. “Why do you look so happy?” he asked, exasperated, and ready to go home.

You shrugged. “I like that someone else knows that I love you.”

And though Levi would still push Eren twice as hard at the next training, he couldn’t be too mad at him after that.

[mxigo]

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 2

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.02k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

The next few hours were a blur. After falling apart on the bathroom floor, you somehow were able to get yourself into the shower, albeit the water was scorching hot, and you once again ended up on the floor. It was only when the room became so hot that you couldn’t breathe did you finally shut the water off and uncurl from around yourself.

You still didn’t feel the same after changing into some lounge clothes, lying on his side of the bed and staring out into nothingness. The room felt too dark, too empty, too hollow. Even though all of his belongings were still here, it was now just your room.

Another stuttering breath left you as you realize that it felt like he died instead of just forgetting you, but he might as well have.

How were you going to explain this to anyone? Oh yeah, this Logan wasn’t the Logan that you’d come to love wholly and completely with every fiber of your being. He wasn’t the Logan that you’ve just spent the past four years with. He wasn’t the one that held you during your darkest moments, or let you shine during your brightest. He wasn’t the one that still managed to make every day a surprise.

And he won’t be ever again.

A gentle knock on your door pulled you out of your stupor. You don’t answer, but the door opened anyways. A soft shadow blurred out the hallway lights, but you didn’t have to turn around to be able to guess who it was.

You still didn’t say anything as she entered your room and shut the door behind her. Even though your back was to her, you could still see the look of pity on her face as she slowly approached you, settling at the edge of the mattress by your feet.

A hand came up and rested itself on your calf. “I’m sorry about what’s happened to Logan. I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of pain that you’re going through right now, Halo.”

“Please, Jean, I just wanna be alone,” you begged, pulling the sheets tighter around yourself.

A beat passed before she spoke again.

“I know, but friends don’t let friends wallow in misery. Besides, there’s a frozen strawberry margarita and queso from Louie’s with your name on it in the kitchen.”

A watery laugh left you, some tears making their escape as you finally sat up, wiping them away. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jean.”

“Probably rot away in here until the end of time.”

“Probably,” you sighed, peeling away the sheets.

It was late, so you didn’t bother changing out of your lounge clothes just to go the kitchen. The two of you didn’t run into anyone on the way down thankfully. The lights were on, and sure enough, a to-go back from Louie’s sat on the kitchen counter with your name sharpened on the side of it.

You wasted no time settling into a stool and diving into the bag, pulling out the margarita and the still hot styrofoam cup of queso, along with a brown bag of tortilla chips. Despite not actually being there with Logan, you guess this would have to suffice as your after-mission treat.

Jean had chosen the stool next to you, occasionally picking a chip out of the bag to snack on. It was quiet for a few moments while you slurped down your frozen drink before you broke the silence.

“So…Did you see him yet?”

Jean’s eyes snapped over to you, surprised that you brought him up.

“I did. He had just woken up and came into the professor’s office. He was looking around like everything was new, like he was surprised to be where he was. He still looks the same, obviously, but it’s like he holds himself completely differently now. It’s hard to explain without seeing him.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, bringing a cheesy chip to your mouth. Jean looked at you for a moment, a look passing over her face before it disappeared, deciding to redirect her focus to the outside. You were about to ask another question before you heard heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, and like a cruel joke, Logan walked past the doorway.

Speak of the devil.

He stopped dead in his tracks once he realized the kitchen wasn’t empty, back tracking just a couple steps to stand in the doorway. He was dressed in his signature leather jacket and t-shirt, holding the keys to his bike in one hand. You assumed that he just came back from a bike ride.

You brave yourself to meet his eyes, but instead of them looking back, they’re looking just next to you. Confused, you look to your right and realize that Jean’s looking right back, unblinking with a look on her face.

“Jean.”

“Logan.”

It had completely escaped you how this Logan’s Jean had been dead for years, and since he had never met you, of course his feelings for Jean had never waned after all this time. He was looking at her like he used to look at you.

Your margarita suddenly soured in your mouth, and the rest of your meal became completely unappetizing. Instantly your stomach began to roil, and all your once hidden feelings of inferiority began to rear their ugly heads. It’s only once you pushed the cup away and abandoned it to leave did Logan turn his attention towards you, meeting your eyes. It’s almost comical how fast you turned breathless and mindless, unable to think about a damn thing to say to him, but what could you say?

You mumbled a thanks to Jean before high tailing it towards the only entrance in and out of the kitchen where Logan was still standing. You kept your eyes trained on the floor while you walked, but in a moment of weakness, you let your eyes flick up to him. You expected him to still be staring at Jean, but it startled you to find that he was looking down at you with an indiscernible look on his face as you all but pushed past him.

If Jean called out to you, you didn’t hear it, focusing only on getting back up to your room to wallow in grief again. You were so stupid to think that this Logan would look passed Jean as he had in the past. She died before he ever could. So now that she was here, and he had her, of course he would overlook you and look towards her.

You never had a chance.

~

Logan watched as you fled all the way down the hall before disappearing around a corner, and he still listened as you flew up the stairs before letting your bedroom door snick shut. He let his eyes drop to the floor as he thought about your face just then in the kitchen, completely frozen at the sight of him. Your wide eyes were frozen on him like you saw a ghost, and he guessed that you sort of did.

He's brought back to reality as he heard Jean sigh, getting up from her seat in the kitchen. She picked up the leftover food before throwing them into the bag and throwing all of it away, brushing her hands on her pants. He still stood in the doorway as she approached and had no choice but to stop in front of him.

“Do you really have no memory of who she is?” she asked, letting her eyes drift up to his.

Wordlessly, Logan shook his head, dropping his eyeline to the ground. “No, but I know that I should.”

“Yeah. Listen, Logan, I know that things are drastically different for you now, and that you probably feel like you’re just floating with nowhere to go, but Halo was probably the one person that you let yourself truly attach to. And there’s a reason for that.”

Then she left, leaving Logan speechless alone in the kitchen.  He shook his head and sighed, rubbing his face as he continued his way up to his room. This was a mess. Everything was a mess. This entire day was spent trying to figure out what his place was in this new present, and he had been left with little to no answers. Sure, he still had mostly the same relationships with people with just small variances in them, but two of the biggest were completely different to him. It was still a punch to the gut every time he saw Jean, completely taken away by seeing her in the flesh when he had only seen her in his dreams. And you…he had no clue how to navigate.

While he made no outright effort to find you, he still kept an open eye wherever he went in case he did see you. He was curious to the kind of person that could have made him forget about pursuing Jean, especially since she was still alive here. You were much different than Jean, at least from what it looked like, and damn it he wanted to know more.

He had just made it to the stairwell when he heard one of the back doors slammed shut, rattling the walls. It was late and a school night, so there was really only one guess to who was going outside at this time. It took only a single look up the stairs before Logan decided to follow, dropping his keys into his pocket.

As soon as he took his first step outside, he already picked up your scent, leading out into the forest that lined the back part of the school’s property. It wasn’t hard to follow where you had been, and it didn’t take long before he came to the other edge of the forest. When he broke through the tree line, he was taken aback by the sight of a large lake spanning at least a couple of miles. The rocky shore was stunning, and the surface of the lake was so still it was almost eerie.

His head snapped to his right when a sniffle broke the serenity, finding you with your arms wrapped around your legs, staring out at the lake, but not really seeing. In the moonlight, he could see twin tear tracks on your splotchy red cheeks.

Taking a quick breath, he searched for the words that he could say to you as he approached, but you beat him to it.

“She was right,” you mumbled when he was near enough. Your eyes were still staring into nothing across the water.

He stopped just ten feet from you, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Who was right about what?”

“Jean. She was right about how even though you’re physically still our Logan, it’s like there’s a stranger wearing your skin.”

You picked up a rock next to you, taking a cursory glance at it before skipping it across the lake, breaking the glass surface.

“I feel like I’m wearing someone else,” he answered, keeping his eye on the last of the ripples.

Your head turned slightly to let your eyes look up at him.

“Even though I’m technically still the same person, everyone is slightly different. Their pasts are different, so they’re not the same from the people that I knew. It’s difficult gauging people because I already expect one thing, but then a curveball is thrown at me, and I don’t know what to do with it. But you, on the other hand,” he paused, letting his eyes drop to meet yours, “are someone completely new.”

You broke contact first, dropping your eyes back to the stony shore.

“God’s greatest joke,” is all you said before pushing yourself up.

You shoved your hands in your pockets and started the walk back to the mansion wordlessly, but Logan was just a handful of feet behind you the entire time. He didn’t bother making conversation, thank God, you thought, only keeping his distance as your shadow until you were safely in your room for the night.

taglist: @facelessfionna (if I didn't tag you, it's because you are either underage, or there is no age posted on your profile)

[idkfitememate]

Still tired but just wanted to remind you that the Obey Me Brothers (- Satan + Lilith) were probably the “Seven Heavenly Virtues” before they fell/died and that was probably so hard for them like-

Lucifer going from Humility to Pride

Mammon going from Charity to Greed

Leviathan going from Kindness to Envy

Asmodeus going from Chastity to Lust

Beelzebub going from Temperance to Gluttony

And Belphegor going from Diligence to Sloth

Imagine as Lucifer going through it because now you can’t talk with your brothers, now you hold them to an expectation you would’ve never before - and yourself to an even higher one - and watching them loose themselves to their sins.

Watching Mammon lose himself to monetary values to the point where he’d be willing to sell his own brothers out if it came to it, and knowing that at some point he would’ve sold his everything because he believed it was right. Shit thing is that he still loves his brothers, and under the greed is guilt for hurting them like this.

Watching Levi, once a kind and loving man who would never leave anyone out become a self deprecating and destructive mess who shuts the world out. Who spends his time obsessing over what others have that he can’t and fighting tooth and nail to fix that, even if it hurts him. He, like Lucifer, has to be the best at his chosen craft or else it’s all for naught, but unlike Lucifer he’s very vocal about his losses and how much he hates others who have better than him.

Asmo, who at one point was basically repulsed at the idea of carnal love and wanted to wait, to hold out until he found the one he was searching for. Believe if that saving himself for his future partner was the ultimate act of love. And now watching him fall to depravity, unable to feel love unless it’s carnal in some sense. Everything must be passionate, with little room for true love. Feelings pushed aside for the heat of the moment, giving his body away to feel something. Finding no worth in himself unless it’s his body, and that translating over to how he treats his brothers. They have to suck up his shockingly flirty remarks to them because he can’t help it, that’s how he’s forced to show love now; fast, rushed, and carnal.

Watching Beel, a man who took everything in moderation, never allowing himself more than what he needed in food and drink in favor of helping others, loose himself to the mind numbing pleasure of sitting there and eating and drinking and eating and drinking and eating and drinking with no end in sight. As he can’t help himself but do anything for a meal, much like Mammon. Willing to do damn near anything to fill the hole in his stomach. No matter the cost.

And Belphy. A man once so awake and alert and ready for anything that even Lucifer would have to tell him to take a break. Always raring and ready to go and help any and everyone in need sleep his days away. Too lazy to do basic tasks at some points like eat. Lazing about too tired to do anything, including care for those around him. Too tired to do anything.

And the haunting truth that you, as Lucifer, created Wrath. Satan, your youngest brother in age and fourth in power. Knowing on the daily that he puts on a mask, a front so that his rage doesn’t consume him in an all burning inferno. Knowing that any little thing could set him off, and that’d be it. He shares next to nothing with you and your brothers because, while unspoken, it’s known that he’ll never be as close as the six of you. He didn’t experience the war, he didn’t experience the fall, he didn’t experience her death. Unlike your brothers who have all changed in some distressing way he’s always been rage. Always been Wrath. A true sin through and through. Never will you experience the same things and that keeps you separated.

And about her, to know deep in your heart that she, the Virtue of Patients, would’ve become the Sin of Wrath keeps you up at night, her face of smiles turning to a wrathful frown scares you. Nightmares flash behind your eyes of her being mad, furious even, so you starve the nights off with a never ending pile of paperwork and coffee.

… Did I just accidentally character study?-

[books-and-omens]

Rather a big thing, by the way, that many of us are probably re-evaluating right now is Crowley consistently not wanting to be called kind or nice. Especially not by Aziraphale.

In S1, that was what triggered the wall slam. ‘Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me’—but in S2 we see more about how strong Crowley’s feelings are on the topic.

In the Job minisode, Crowley vehemently insists that he is a demon. He is so angry at God. When Aziraphale tells him that he is certain Crowley does not want to destroy Job’s children, Crowley takes his glasses off to expose full-demon irises and looks Aziraphale in the eye as requested and says, “I want to”.

Aziraphale is heartbroken over that. His shoulders slump, he exhales shakily, his faith in Crowley has indeed cracked. Look at him:

And then, of course, he figures out the trick, and it turns out that he is exactly right about Crowley. “Well,” he says, and looks vindicated, triumphant, amused.

He was right. He knew Crowley would resist atrocity with everything he has. He knew Crowley would understand it’s an atrocity in a way Gabriel and Michael did not seem to (and neither did those two care). What Aziraphale sees is that, for all of Crowley’s demonic posturing, Crowley came through.

(He remembers the angel that Crowley used to be. So joyful. So happy. So unlike Gabriel and Michael, too: the angel Crowley would never have gone along with killing Job’s children.)

At the end of this minisode, Aziraphale is ready to go to Hell. He thinks he must: he lied, he thwarted the will of God. Crowley, of course, tells him that he is simply an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.

Aziraphale will process this in some way later, but… he won’t process it in the same way as Crowley. Aziraphale won’t reject the idea of Heavenly goodness—Heaven is supposed to be good, that’s the whole point—but he will take note of how, time and time again, Crowley exemplifies this idea when the actual Heavenly angels do not.

Across history, Aziraphale sees Crowley do things that are good. And then disclaim them, reject them, call them something else. A demon could get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing, Crowley had warned him a long time ago.

Aziraphale will remember this.

Don’t say thank you, Crowley hisses in the Bastille. My lot do not send rude notes.

And the Victorian minisode?

Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions, Crowley tells Aziraphale vehemently after saving Elspeth from suicide. (In Christianity, certainly in the 19th century, suicide condemns a soul; one who died by suicide does not even get a Christian burial. So Crowley has actively diverted a soul from Hell by drinking the laudanum.)

And—look at how indulgently Aziraphale is looking at Crowley as Crowley insists he is not responsible for his actions.

Of course you aren’t, my dear, he seems to think. We both know you did it on purpose, to have a plausible excuse for Hell. But of course we both know that you are in fact responsible for your actions, and that, at great personal risk and cost, you have once again chosen to do good.

So by the end, from Aziraphale’s point of view, Crowley has a much better idea of Good than Heaven itself. And—oh joy!—in the finale, Metatron, the voice of God, finally acknowledges that fact and validates it. Your demon recognized me when nobody else did, Metatron essentially says.

(I just cannot with the ominous dramatic music that plays as Metatron leads Aziraphale out of the shop. Get the FUCK OUT David Arnold, this is so pointed and disturbing. In this season and in the last, the music is narration, it tells us so much without a single word.)

Anyway! Yes! In the finale, Aziraphale is being manipulated, and part of why it works is that he still does not understand Crowley’s motives in insisting he is not nice or good. He has been interpreting Crowley’s insistence solely as protective, which makes a lot of sense from what he has seen. A demon doing good deeds must hide to avoid punishment and pain. Crowley has hid for six thousand years, has gotten used to hiding. Sure, the last four years were different, but even in these years the danger hasn’t gone away, and six thousand years is a long time to set a pattern.

Aziraphale wants to see Crowley happy. He wants to see him—both of them—safe. And here, finally, is an official Metatron-offered way. Heaven is finally admitting and working on its mistakes. Surely Crowley will forgive them? Surely Crowley and Aziraphale can make Heaven better, together? Make into what it should be? (And they would be safe, they would be safe, they would be safe.)

They still haven’t talked. Aziraphale still does not understand Crowley’s choices. In the past, it might have been too dangerous for Aziraphale to know exactly why Crowley Fell, while for Crowley, it might have been too vulnerable a thing to discuss. So they haven’t talked, and Aziraphale does not know the exact questions Crowley had asked, does not know the exact reasons. He assumes.

And his assumptions, oh so well-meant, are going to be catastrophic.

[getvalentined]

Thinking about Sephiroth's motivations in Rebirth and getting super emotional because fuck, man, I get it. I get it. It doesn't excuse anything, but I get it in a way I can't even describe.

The Gi establish that those who aren't native to Gaia can't join the Lifestream basically at all, they're held separate entirely; the Gi have never been in it directly, their ghosts wander in a little liminal space they crafted for themselves. This is because they're entirely foreign—the Gi appear to be interdimensional travelers that were somehow marooned on Gaia at some point in ancient history, where they died and were left as ghosts, lingering forever unable to move on.

Sephiroth is slightly different in that he was born on Gaia and he does have human parents as well as Jenova, so he can force his way into the Lifestream as we saw in Lifestream Black and Advent Children, but he can't disseminate into it. He's still conscious and cognizant in some capacity even as the Lifestream fights to strip away the parts of him that belong on the planet, the parts of him that were human. This is, presumably, why his memory is all fucked up postcanon, whether we're talking novels or spinoffs; the Lifestream has been trying to take him but it can't, because there's too much Jenova in him, so the parts of him that have survived are just the parts that are the son of Jenova. He hasn't been fully worn down by the time the Crisis rolls around, likely because his body is still partially intact in the Northern Crater. (Again, see Lifestream Black, as well as the OG.)

And here's where everything starts to hurt.

He's alone. No matter what Sephiroth does, he's entirely, completely alone. There is nothing in the world like him, the planet won't accept him—it's not death, it's a homecoming, and Sephiroth has nowhere to go home to.

And he's done this before, this is a repeating timeline, he's been through this before over and over and over. And he's always alone in the end. He's always there at the edge of creation, the end of all things, the kindling of a new universe, and he's still there. All alone.

So this time he's calling for the ultimate Reunion. He's not just calling his Clones home, he's pulling all of time and space together into a single planet, bolstered with the lingering Lifestream of hundreds, thousands of others, timelines where things fell apart and Gaia sat on the precipice of death before Sephiroth found her and tore the Lifestream loose to feed the timeline he's chosen as the most likely to survive.

Three friends go into battle. One is captured (Genesis, in Deepground), one flies away (Angeal, who chose his own death), and the one who remains becomes a hero.

Heroes save the world.

But it doesn't matter, does it? Because he's going to be alone. Zack asks how he could turn his back on everything, and he says "Easily." Aerith asks how he could possibly want an eternity alone—because she doesn't understand, that's what Sephiroth has waiting for him anyway. That's all he's ever had waiting for him.

Sephiroth is going to save a world that will never accept him, because that's what heroes do, and then he's going to be alone forever. But this time, for the first time in every timeline he's experienced, he's going to do it on his own terms. He knows what he is, he knows how this ends, he has no questions of that. But for once in his existence—and it's a long existence, unending, eternal in a way that neither human nor Cetra could never even comprehend—he's going to control exactly how that happens.

Sephiroth knows he can't control whether or not he ends up alone, but he can choose how it happens. He can do things right this time. Maybe if he saves the world it will be different. Maybe the planet will accept him. Maybe he won't be alone.

And if he is (and he knows he will be), at least it was on his own terms.

At least, for once in the whole of creation, Sephiroth had a single flicker of control over his own existence. For once in the entirety of existence, Sephiroth made a decision for himself.

He'll have to live with that decision, alone, for eternity—but it was his.

[odetojupiter]

sometimes i’m having a good day then i remember how deeply entrenched andrew’s actions are within his abandonment issues.

outside of the abuse he faced in the foster system, we know he bounced from home to home, which only taught him that he wasn’t wanted. the first person who made him feel wanted was cass, and he was so desperate for that that he was going to put up with drake just to keep it. i’m sure in juvie when he started working through his issues he realised that cass didn’t want him more than she wanted to protect drake. there’s no way she didn’t know but she didn’t interfere because she refused to choose andrew over drake.

he makes a deal with aaron, which puts his life on the line and only asks aaron to stay with me only me, because he’s never been anyone’s first choice, people always chose his abusers over him. and that makes aaron mourning tilda feel like another betrayal. i could’ve died too i could’ve died, he thinks. but aaron won’t hear that. he makes a deal with kevin because kevin won’t stay without protection. andrew’s protection is kevin’s reason to stay, so andrew tells him, find me a reason to as well. because by then he knew aaron would leave as soon as they graduated, and kevin would go pro and andrew would be alone with no deals keeping him alive. he offers neil a similar deal, tells him stay and ill protect you. because throughout his life he’s been taught over and over that people don’t want him. so he has to offer up everything he has to convince them he’s still useful, even if he’s unwantable.

but then aaron kills drake, putting his entire future at risk just to save andrew. neil agrees to be tortured for weeks on the off chance it would prevent andrew from being hurt. kevin never gives up on andrew, never stops trying to hand some of his passion over. neil breaks his deal, saying i’ll hold up my end, i’ll still stay, but you don’t have to give me anything because who you are is enough.

and that’s never happened to andrew before. no one has ever chosen him, chosen to stay with him.

and then, that same day, neil is gone. and until they find the abandoned bag and phone and keys, there’s a voice in andrew’s brain saying u should have known u should’ve learned by now no one will ever stay with u, they all leave in the end. but no, neil was taken, and now andrew realises neil broke off the deal to protect him, to prevent him getting hurt in the crossfire because neil knew this was going to happen. he was willing to die for andrew.

and, in the end, he kills for andrew too. that makes two people who have killed for him, just like he did for aaron and tried to do for nicky. he doesn’t like it, thinks their lives are worth more than mine they shouldn’t put them on the line for me, but they do it anyway.

but still, andrew knows he isn’t wanted. he’s been taught that lesson over and over throughout his life, and the last time he tried to forget that lesson it nearly killed him. that doesn’t change the fact that aaron and neil didn’t leave, even after their deals ended. it’s something he’s still trying to wrap his head around. people staying, people wanting him to stay.

[mintmatcha]

Bakugo starts to really reflect one night after having drinks with his coworkers, the shine in your eyes and the gentle smile aimed his way plaguing his mind all night. He can hear Cami in the shower singing to whatever pop rock shit they have on the radio these days, but it does little to interrupt the whirlwind of thoughts and memories clattering about in his mind.

'Look at them,' you had said softly tonight, gesturing to a pair of coworkers in a corner booth. 'They're so stinking cute together. It would be nice to have that myself, y'know?'

No, he doesn't know. He didn't have the most stellar role models in that department, he's hesitantly come to accept. Feeling defeated, Bakugo pulls a worn suitcase from the corner of the bedroom onto the bed, empty and waiting.

'Are you really thinking of going through with marrying Cami?' Uraraka said last year at a holiday party. 'I mean, she's really... intense. And not in a good way.'

An intensity that matched mine, Bakugo thought as he pulled handfuls of clothes from his side of the dresser. Thought that was what we both needed.

'You're engaged to Cami?? Wow, that's... that's great, Kacchan.' Deku couldn't hide his grimace when he told him the news.

You've always been shit at poker faces, nerd. Haphazardly, the suitcase is half full of what he deemed were essentials.

'Bakubabe, your grandmother's ring doesn't look good on her,' Mina had said with eyebrows raised. He'd chosen to ignore the double meaning and had growled out some retort instead. By now, the suitcase is so full that the zipper almost doesn't close all the way. Hefting it onto the floor, it weighs like nothing compared to his head and his heart; Bakugo wheels it to the front door, pointedly not looking at the signs of his life he shared with Cami littered throughout the house.

'Katsuki, I'm saying this as your best friend, but she is not good for you; please think about this! You're always fighting, and she's always making something up to cause nothing but trouble. That's not healthy!' Ei, that sunshine idiot, he thinks while tying his shoes. Maybe I should have listened to him a little more, been a little less stubborn. He's only been this adamant about her. Might've saved me years of my life.

Bakugo straightens out slowly, fishing his keys from his pocket to clench tight. The pain gives him something to focus on for a brief moment, steeling his resolve and his final decision.

"'It's not too late. You could still quit.'" He chuckles mirthlessly to himself. "Looks like I was talking to myself that day too, huh?" One last deep breath. "Whelp, here fucking goes."

The walk out to his car feels like a lifetime, but when he arrives at Deku's place unannounced, he surprisingly feels marginally lighter than his overstuffed suitcase.

It's the worst sleep of his life.

He can hear Izuku and Shouto through the walls, whispering about how long he's going to be on their couch. It's intercut with the incessant buzzing of his phone across the carpet, Cami's calls rolling in over and over again. She read the note he left, the explanation that he needs space, time and silence- but she's refusing to give him any of that. she threatens him and herself and you until his phone dies.

(a charger. the only thing he forgot)

But when he wakes up in the morning, at the ass crack of dawn, a kink in his neck the size of fucking Texas, he feels better than he has in a long while. He uses a couple of the kitchen pans and cooks a simple breakfast: Omelets, with a little bit of cream cheese and a whole lot of butter, the way his grandmother taught him.