#clearly listed and stated my age on my Tumblr page heading | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomposterofstuff · 3 years

Text

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

#rivamika #levimika #levi x mikasa

24 notes · View notes

sp-ud · 3 years

Text

Waking Up

AO3 Link

Inspired by this post: Link

And my own post about this concept: Link

Content Warnings: Panic Attacks, Memory Loss

Words: 1817

Ranboo suddenly finds himself back in reality with his hands in the middle of braiding his own hair. Not the worst thing he’s woken up to after Enderwalking. He lets out a sigh as he continues braiding his hair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling as he reflects on what he can remember doing while Enderwalking.

Wuh oh.

---

This is basically me sharing my theories about Enderwalking in fic format. That's kinda it. I took my theories, and wrote em as a fic.

I also posted this at 3am which is why it took me till 2pm to make a proper Tumblr post about it.

Wuh oh.

Quickly tying off the braid he grabs the memory book. Reading through page 13 again. “New table”? Axe feeling lighter? Eye inside a block? Eye that looks his? Now, Ranboo might not know a lot about his Enderman heritage, but he knows a portal when he's described one.

Lightly smacking his face, Ranboo tries to shift through the foggy memories he always has after Enderwalking. Memories where he feels like a passenger, not the one experiencing it. He… he was mining. Just chatting with those particles of his, when he came across an exposed stronghold. He went to investigate… finding the portal but not recognizing it in his Enderwalk state.

Ranboo starts to head downstairs as he digs through his memories more, he’d… he’d realized the portal would probably help with the experiments he did while Enderwalking but had left to build a lab another day.

… Has he already built the lab? Yes, he has. Replacing the stone walls with iron and setting up what he’d discovered as ‘the solution’ to Enderwalking. Without having to remember, Ranboo can already tell he hadn’t gone through with it while Enderwalking. Otherwise, he would have woken up in the lab. Or in his bed from respawning, after all, his Enderwalking self didn’t seem to realize some of the multiple flaws in his solution.

But Ranboo is too scared to correct his Enderwalking self. It’s already taken him ages to convince his Enderwalking self that he isn’t some evil dissociative state that committed war crimes he can’t remember. He doesn’t want to imagine how it’d go over trying to inform his Enderwalking state he has it backward.

Sliding down into his basement he quickly mines through the wall to get the experiment log he's written in Ender. Flipping all the way to the last page where he’s written the solution. He pulls out a pen from his pocket and holds it hesitantly over the page.

He knows how he is when Enderwalking. A paranoid anxious mess with less than half of his memory. If he sees this when Enderwalking, he’d freak out, he’d get suspicious, and then probably do it anyways.

Reluctantly, he hides the experiment log back away, sealing it back behind stone bricks. He has to tell someone he both trusts out of Enderwalk, and in Enderwalk.

Which is admittedly a short list of people. Phil would be good, but the old man would likely ask too many questions he doesn't know how to answer. Techno, while also a good option, is also currently hibernating. And would likely pass the message onto Phil.

Niki would be an option if the two crossed paths more often, and Tommy has so many issues of his own right now, he doesn't need Ranboo's. The particles, while well meaning, are honestly more of a nuisance who would likely just increase any suspicion.

Which only really leaves one other person, Tubbo. Who, while Ranboo loves his husband, still isn't the perfect option for this, is the best he honestly has.

Someone he trusts, who will listen, who will understand, and who'll actually be able to help. The only issue is Tubbo himself might want to experiment, Ranboo personally still is a little salty over the whole electric chair thing. But hopefully the moobloom-hybrid wilk put aside his scientific interests for the sake of Ranboo's wellbeing.

Not wanting to waste any more precious time he has before falling back into Enderwalk, Ranboo leaves his house as fast as he can after quickly snapping on his armor.

The journey to Snowchester is quick, one he likes to thinks he'd still know even if he had no memories. By the time the water tunnel has shot him back out, it feels like barely a minute has passed since he woke up.

Letting his enchanted armor drip off the water, Ranboo quickly starts towards the mansion where, if his memory serves him right, should be where Tubbo is currently.

"TUBBO!" He shouts as soon as he enters the mansion, yelling being the most efficient way to locate someone in the massive building. His long ears strain themselves to listen for a shout back.

"I'M IN THE UPSTAIRS GUEST ROOMS!" The ender-hybrid hears distantly, darting up the stairs as fast as he can. "THE ONES NEAR OUR ROOM!" Tubbo shouts once more, Ranboo quickly taking a left.

He almost bumps into Tubbo as the moobloom-hybird steps out into the hallway. Luckily scrambling to a stop just before bowling the smaller teen over. He rests a hand against the wall, somewhat hunching over as he tries to catch his breath.

"You good bossman? Something wrong?" Tubbo asks, taking a small step towards Ranboo. The taller huffs a few more breaths before holding his other hand up to tell Tubbo to wait a second.

"It's…" he starts, before taking a deep breath and straightening up, "It's… oh God, I was so focused on getting here quickly that um, didn't really think through how to explain this all…" his tail flicks restlessly behind him.

Tubbo hums to himself for a second, "This is a sit-down kind of thing, isn't it?" Ranboo gives a small nod, "Good thing I just set up yet another 'sitting area earlier today, come on," the brunette grabs Ranboo's hand and gently drags him further down the hallway before opening a door with dramatic flourish.

It's another room consisting of multiple sofas and chairs around a coffee table. The amount of rooms they have that look like this is honestly concerning, but at least Tubbo has enough eye for design that they all are clearly different. Much less confusing than the identical empty rooms Foolish left them with.

Ranboo all but collapses onto one of the couches, Tubbo taking a seat across from him. The brunette's mouth is twisting in worry, nose scrunching up as watches Ranboo through messy bangs.

"Okay," a sigh escapes the ender-hybrid, "I, I guess the best place to start would be… explaining my… condition?" He still isn't sure what the right term for Enderwalking is as there's next to no public documents on the topic. "So, you know how I have bad memory?"

A slight snort before a nod tell Ranboo to continue, "Well that's, that's just one symptom of my, condition. The Enderwalk. It's genetic, I'm pretty sure. There's uh, not much known about it," Ranboo starts messing with the furred tip of his tail, "But it's basically a, a state I go into? I guess? And it…" he trails off.

How does he explain to his best friend, his husband, that the 'him' he always interacts with isn't 100% 'him'. His mouth hangs open before snapping shut, shaking his head a little. Tubbo won't hate him for something out of his control, Tubbo is reasonable, he's smart, he's a good person.

Another glance at Tubbo shows that the moobloom-hybrid now has a serious look on his face, leaning forward, waiting for Ranboo to continue.

"It doesn't just affect my memory. It, it can affect my judgment, my reasoning. And it worsens with age," Ranboo focuses his gaze back down to his tail flicking in his own grasp, "and, don't get me wrong, I'm still me when Enderwalking I'm just…" he loses his words again. Letting a silence fall over the room.

"Okay," Ranboo looks up. Tubbo has a hand to his chin in thought. "okay, I get what you're saying. Plenty of species have illnesses like that," the ender-hybrid nods, "and I'm glad you told me but, why now?" A hint of light blue eyes peer through messy bangs, "did something happen?"

"More like… something's been happening but it's, it's close to becoming worse." He shifts on the couch, once again struggling to find the right words, "I'm Enderwalking all the time… I'd say that you uh, you probably see me Enderwalking more than you see me normally," he pauses to swallow. "When Enderwalking I, I dont realize I'm Enderwalking," a humorless laugh escapes him. "I don't even have half of my memories then. I managed to forget what Enderwalking even is! And somehow," his voice is starting to go static with anger, "I managed to come up with the name again, while Enderwalking, to explain my normal state!"

He hunches over, burying his head between his knees as he lets out static-filled laughs. His ears no longer hearing anything other than a growing buzz. Hands gripping and twisting his hair as his laughs start to devolve into something more like sobs.

A light weight settles over his shoulders and back, hands slowly unclenching his hair to drift down to wrap the blanket around himself. He feels a head rest itself on his shoulders, following the deep breaths he can feel carefully. His tail loosely wraps around a waist before small hooved finger tips start bruising through it.

"Sorry," he mutters. Tubbo hums, leaning his head more onto Ranboo's shoulder.

"Nothing to be sorry about, it sounds like… a lot," Tubbo says back, "You sure you want to talk about this now big man?"

The ender-hybrid nods, tilting his head to somewhat rest on top of Tubbo's, the smaller's dull horns pressing into his face. "I don't know when I'll start Enderwalking again, I have to tell you now before I forget again."

"As long as you're sure," Tubbo replies with a shrug, but Ranboo can still hear the concern under the layer of dismissiveness.

"When Enderwalking I've, starting to experiment on myself. It's progressively gotten more… intense, to put it simply. My Enderwalking self thinks he's found a solution, to stop from 'Enderwalking' but," Ranboo pulls back, doing his best to make direct eye contact with Tubbo, "the 'solution'? It's, I know what it's going to do! It will just make the Enderwalk worse. I'll probably be down to only a quarter of my memories! I might even, even lose a life."

Ranboo's eyes loss focus as his panic starts to build before he feels Tubbo's dull horns pressing into his chest and arms wrapping him in a loose hug.

"That's what you wanted to tell me, right?" Tubbo sighs, "you want me to make sure that you don't go through with it while Enderwalking?" Ranboo lets out what's supposed to be a hum that ends up sounding more like a buzz in response.

"Don't worry bossman, you can count on me," Tubbo tightens his hug and Ranboo can slowly feel the fog that comes with Enderwalking creep in.

"I know, I always know," he responds, before letting himself drift into the fog.

#idk how u post fics on tumblr #i hope i didi this right #dsmp #ranboo #tubbo #enderwalk #dsmp fanfic #spud's writing

17 notes · View notes

rosemcrys-blog · 5 years

Text

chicago’s very own 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐦 has been spotted on madison avenue driving a 𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑠 - 𝑟𝑜𝑦𝑐𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑡𝘩 , welcome ! your resemblance to 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑 birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re 𝑎𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 , but being 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 might help you . i think being a 𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑢𝑠 explains that . three things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 , 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 , 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 . ( 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 . )

for an accurate description of me and the man who essentially runs my life , please click here for giggles . but hello everyone ! i’m johnny , twenty - two , and i go by either 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 or 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 pronouns ! i’m super excited to be here and i’m really excited to write with everyone , so i won’t keep my own introduction long so we can go ahead and hop into everything about rosemary ! my discord is 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 .#6807 if that’s your preference for plotting over tumblr im’s , and before i go , stan loona !

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : kim eun - jung . 𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : rosemary michelle kim . 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬) : ro or romy , only . 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 / 𝐚𝐠𝐞 : december 15th , 1997 / 22 . 𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 : sagittarius . 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 : she / her / hers . 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 : cis - female . 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : bisexual . 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : biromantic . 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : 5′5″ ( five foot , five inches ) 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 : chicago , illinois ( click ! ) 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 : new york , ny ( click ! ) 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 : korean - american . 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 : korean . 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 : korean , english , and conversational portuguese . 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐫 : ballet dancer ; soloist with american ballet theater . 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 : alpha bitch , royal brat , bratty teenage daughter , socialite , daddy’s girl , and wicked witch .

kang eugene was a nineteen year old and already living in the wealthy district of gangnam in south korea thanks to her career as a drama actress . she mainly found her claim to fame starring in coming - of - age dramas that focused on high school or university aged students , but she had recently landed her dream leading role as a chaebol heiress looking for love in a ruthless world . she ends up meeting the love of her life that very year , and it’s purely by coincidence , when she gets into a minor fender bender with kim ho - seok , the heir of a multi - billion dollar real estate and construction conglomerate , who was back in korea while on vacation from school in the states .

eugene tried her best to keep their relationship as friends , mainly because her contract with her company put her on a dating ban for a few years , but it was nearly impossible for the young woman to turn down his attempts at wooing her . after a few months of sneaking around , eugene finally approached her company about her dating ho -seok , and surprisingly , they were on board . eugene and ho - seok had a rather whirlwind relationship , making their relationship instagram official in the matter of a month and eugene was wearing a promise ring once they hit their two month anniversary .

�� the only downside was that eugene had to stay in korea for her career while ho - seok returned to the states for school , but they promised and managed to make it work . during breaks , and whenever she had time , eugene was traveling to the states and whenever the summer months rolled around , ho - seok was back in korea . it came as a surprise to now twenty - two year old eugene when ho - seok got down on bended knee and asked for her to marry him at his graduation from the university of pennsylvania’s wharton school of business .

both american and korean media outlets were floored when they discovered the couple’s engagement , and it was hard to ignore the sizable ring that sat perched on eugene’s hand . so , the couple marries after six months of planning in a lavish ceremony in bali , indonesia . eugene’s contract with her company was up , and while she had the chance to renew , the young actress decided that she would take her chances in america’s scene . the couple decide to settle in chicago , where ho - seok was taking over the new headquarters of his family’s company . about eight months after settling in their new home , eugene had exciting news : she was pregnant .

after an instagram pregnancy announcement , photoshoot , and red carpet appearances with a protruding belly , eugene finally had their first and only baby girl ten days before christmas in 1997 , who they affectionately named eun - jung . being their only daughter , eugene and ho - seok smothered their daughter with the finest things . if you thought kylie got a lot for stormi ... that had nothing on the kims . growing up , eun - jung who’s name was assimilated to rosemary , attended the francis w. parker school in chicago ( they don’t wear uniforms there but i’m gonna pretend that they did because plaid pleated skirts ? chef’s kiss ! ) for the first few years , rosemary seemed to not have any interests in extracurriculars , only focusing on her academics .

it wasn’t until she was around thirteen years old when her parents took her to see the nutcracker for her birthday that year when she decided that she wanted to be a ballerina . eugene and ho - seok would do anything for their daughter , so despite the people who would laugh in their faces because their thirteen year old daughter was just starting ballet , they made sure that she would get whatever she wanted . the people who laughed soon found themselves with egg on their faces as rosemary had the natural ability to embrace the fine art , winning a top prize after only a year of training . soon after , she had grown out of her dance company and was soon training with the top coaches in chicago .

the sudden thrust into the dance circuit went straight to rosemary’s head which of course , changed her personality as a whole . she entered the upper school with her head held high and her posture straight , never letting those around them forget who she was . rosemary often found herself meddling and treating others without kindness , bullying those around her especially when she wanted something . when it came to yearbook superlatives , rosemary got whatever she wanted because she used her parents’ donations over them and promised things that she had no interest in fulfilling . rosemary was quite the bitch throughout her high school career , and she only ever really had superficial friends who only stuck close because of her father’s billion dollar net worth .

during her high school years , rosemary’s bullying had never gotten the physical realm , but she had definitely done a number on those of a lower social status ( yuck ) . however , rosemary was able to continue with her ballet ( and even managed to have a completely different personality when around her ballerina ‘ friends ’ ) . during her summers before her junior and senior years , rosemary traveled to new york where she spent summers training with the american ballet theatre . come her graduation from high school when she was only eighteen years old , rosemary moved out of her parents’ home in chicago to her current apartment in the plaza hotel , as she was invited to become a member of abt’s corps de ballet . she participated in a number of performances , ranging from romeo & juliet to swan lake to the sleeping beauty . after four years , rosemary was promoted to soloist , and she made full circle when she made her soloist debut as clara in abt’s production of the nutcracker . her all time dream is to become a principal dancer within the company .

outside of her career in dance , rosemary is a brand spokeswoman and stage performer , often participating in broadway productions during the off - season of abt .

when it comes to her personality , rosemary is every inch the girl that’s clearly had a silver spoon in her mouth since birth . she was always one of the popular girls in her grade , so naturally that went to her head . of course she’s used to being amongst the richest in her school , but rosemary still rides on an extremely high horse . she’s ridiculously petty and can be quite manipulative at times , also pulling out her bratty side whenever she feels like she needs to use it . she’s mean and vindictive , especially when she feels like someone has done something wrong to her ( no matter how small it may be ) . she can be nice when she wants to be and it all depends on if people are gonna challenge her or not . for the most part , she can be chill but she 100000% believes in the philosophy of if you can’t take it , don’t dish it out .

i ... would put a list of wanted connections here , but i kind of prefer brainstorming or going based on chemistry ! that being said , i do have a wanted connections tag that can be found on my page ( for whatever reason tumblr is saying it doesn’t exist but i promise , the posts are there >:/ ) !

#wealthyhq:intro #bullying cw #i'm hopping off for a quick second to take a shower #but once i'm back i'll be ready to plot w everyone !#um hfsb this is kinda long

12 notes · View notes

waltzshouldbewriting · 5 years

Text

Nemesis (Ghostmind Story 4)

By JD Jackson

First thing first, yes we are all fine.

That being said, you are all probably wondering the reason behind my recent online activities. Well, it all started about two AM when Dan was out helping investigate some weird gas thing.

It started for me when he barged into my room at 2:45 looking like a truck ran him over, minus the injury part.

“What’s wrong?” Was the first thing out of my mouth before my instincts finally kicked in. “Don’t answer that.” I ran from my computer (yes I was still up, sue me) to my bed, where I brushed off the papers I had all over it. I grabbed my weighted blanket, ordered Dan to lie down, and told him to relax.

“You need music - no you don’t,” I said, running through what Dan usually needs while in shutdown mode. I turned off my writing playlist, dimmed the lights, and fetched him a bottle of water.

Aaliyah called me just as I was about to call her.

“Is Dan at your place?” Aaliyah asked. She sounded half-asleep.

“Yes,” I replied, balancing the phone with my computer as I walked out to the living room. “He’s completely zoned. Do you know what happened?”

“Someone attacked him.”

“What?”

My parents were already in the living room, both on the phone. I plopped on the floor and opened up a window on my laptop.

“Let me find a picture,” I said. “See what I can find out.”

I put the phone down, already switching to research mode.

I found a video of the attack in half a minute. My mom handed me a notebook as I wrote and sketched what I saw.

Young. Our age? Design on shirt. One-way fight. Obvious training. Wasn’t seeking to kill, only hurt.

Questions began to form, and that’s when I started with the weird posting on social media.

Does anyone recognize his style of fighting?

Any idea on his symbol?

Anyone recognize him?

Another video came up, this one with a clear picture of the other person’s face. I snapped a screenshot and did a reverse image search just as a few responses came back in.

His fighting is very mixed. Can’t identify any one style.

If I had to guess, he had some jujutsu training mixed in with it.

I found his Facebook page, but it only listed what was definitely a false age and location, and a friends list. So I started searching for his friends.

That logo reminds me of Divinity White’s logo when she was Savage Serpent.

More googling, and I started connecting the dots. A photo on a friend’s timeline here, a jujutsu studio website from his hometown here.

After about thirty minutes, two police officers came to check on Dan. After some convincing from my parents, Dan came out to meet them.

“Any idea who attacked me?” Dan asked. His voice sounded flat, uninterested, but to me that just meant he was still in shutdown.

Police officers don’t know how to deal with him. And they haven’t had to yet, I realized. Not with his device. Which was still on his arm, shattered.

“Not yet,” one of the police officers responded.

“I know,” I offered. “His name is Jason White. He is sixteen years old, trained at an old rundown jujutsu studio in his hometown. He’s the son of Divinity White AKA Savage Serpent. Ms White was a member of the FOCOPI, back twenty years ago. She quit after a bad injury, and eventually married and became a lawyer. Her old secret identity was found at two years ago, shortly after which she and her husband were murdered by someone orphaned by the FOCOPI, which then left Jason orphaned. He moved in with his aunt, who still lives near the FOCOPI headquarters. And there’s an ongoing investigation to see if his aunt is the person behind the new FOCOPI member Avidizer.”

“FOCOPI may be evil, but they don’t involve kids,” one of the police officers said.

“Unless,” I replied. “The kid takes it upon himself to be involved. Jason has had two amber alerts since moving in with his aunt, but resolved quickly. One of the kids in his school with a less secure account seems to think he ran away.”

The other police officer raised an eyebrow. “So what you’re saying is the kid has a role model whose in FOCOPI, which is motive. And he likely tried more dangerous initiation tactics by himself.”

“Until FOCOPI gave in and gave him a safer mission,” I concluded. “Taking on Ghostmind, a superhero with no physical skill.”

“I’ll admit, it makes sense,” the first police officer said. She looked at my parents. “Your child is a good researcher.”

My dad chuckled. “It’s probably all that time they spend researching for that novel.”

“We’ll look deeper into what you’ve found, but we’ll still stay open to other explanations- though this one sounds solid.” The police officer looked at me. “Ever think of getting a job in criminal investigations?”

I made a face and shook my head. “Not creative enough for me.”

The next hour or so, police came and went from my house. I showed them how I did my research and the photos I’d found. Those who had time to react were impressed.

Dan’s parents came over, and the whole Davis Family stayed the night. Then, just a little after sunrise, it was time to start the next day.

Dan was already excused from school, and his mom called in with a family emergency, but the rest of us had to trot on to work and school. Not that I didn’t try to stay with him, but I was close to failing in two classes (like that mattered in the moment) and neither Dan nor my dad wanted me to stay.

So I went to school, despite having no sleep. And slept through most of my classes. When I got home, Dan and his mother were passed out in my room, so I took a nap on the couch.

The rest of the day was spent recovering from that morning. My mom forced us all to eat, even with no appetite. I spent the evening scrolling Tumblr while Dan played video games on his phone and his mother conversed with my parents.

She wanted to head home, but Dan was feeling sick from anxiety and was wary of riding in a car. Neither of them like the house (we are a messy family), and Dan complained once or twice that he should’ve walked the extra ten minutes back to his place initially. I did the best to keep the area clean, but it felt hopeless. Claudia and Aaliyah both showed up after dinner, and Aaliyah brought a tool kit to work on Dan’s device.

That night I didn’t stay up until 2 AM, but I still found myself woken up with a crash around the same time. I was sleeping on the couch, Claudia in one of the recliners, and Aaliyah had moved downstairs to work.

“What was that?” Claudia asked, sitting up.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

My parents creeped out of their room, my mom with a flashlight and my dad with a bat.

“Did you hear that?” My mom asked.

Claudia and I both nodded.

“Get Dan and go downstairs,” my dad barked.

“Why?” Claudia asked. “There’s police officers-“

“Do it.”

Dan was already awake, and he barely complained about the woody smell as we descended the stairs. I led them to a corner, and Aaliyah and Claudia moved a table to cover us.

Dan sighed and leaned his head against the cold wall, his breath speeding up. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.

“It’s just a precaution,” Claudia whispered. “There’s no reason to panic.”

“I know,” I answered. “Doesn’t mean I can stop.”

“Shhh,” Dan hissed. “Stop talking so loud.”

Something thumped, startling me and Claudia.

“Aaliyah, how long is the repair going to take?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Too long,” Aaliyah said.

“That’s not an answer!”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s not a good idea.”

I sighed. “It would make me feel better if we had a plan.”

“It’s four to one,” Claudia stated. “We could take him.”

“This is a horrible idea!” Aaliyah said.

Dan shook his head. “He’s too good of a fighter.”

“It’s four to one,” I repeated.

“I’m sure he’s trained for that,” Dan replied. “And none of us has.”

“I know a thing or two about strategy.” I looked around the room. “Now if I could only think clearly...” Closing my eyes, I did my best to concentrate. Just pretend it’s a scene in a novel.

“We have only one entrance,” I reasoned. “Umm, let’s see - we could take him by surprise - maybe, uh, nevermind, that wouldn’t work.” I continued to ramble, but slowly an idea began forming. “I think I have a plan. We need a net.”

It wasn’t hard. Claudia and I were able to sew a few stronger pieces of cloth together, and then I found small bolts in my dad’s work box that we tied to the end. Claudia took the net as we moved into position.

Claudia and I pressed our bodies against the wall next to the stairs just as the door creaked open. My heart was pounding even harder, but I forced myself to breathe slowly and softly. I listened as an unfamiliar gate walked down the stairs, ignoring the shaky feeling through my limbs.

Then Jason White stepped into the room, and me and Claudia tackled him with the net.

The good news is that we caught him by surprise. But, as Aaliyah expected, it didn’t take long for him to react. He landed an elbow into my stomach, and I stumbled backwards as pain flared. I hit the wall and collapsed, muttering a few of my favorite curse words under my breath.

Claudia recovered. Apparently, cheerleaders have high pain tolerance (which I do not, hence me lying on the floor in pain at this moment in time). She threw herself onto White and managed to wrap the net around his face in a smooth motion. It wasn’t enough to bring him down, but Claudia grabbed the edges and yanked, bringing White’s head down and making him stumble. Claudia elbowed him in the side of the head, knocking him into the wall, while he still struggled to get the net off. She kneed him in the stomach, and he punched her in the face in defense, making her stumble backwards.

White managed to toss the net off. Aaliyah had yet to finish her repairs.

I took a deep breath in, going through a quick grounding exercise. It made the pain worse, but I found I could focus. Now, all I needed was a stroke of genius.

And, impossibly, I had one.

I pushed myself up and forced myself to move to the other side of the room. White, who was still focusing on Claudia, turned my way just as I reached my target - a basket of spray paint. I grabbed a bottle, popped the lid, and sprayed it right into White’s eyes. It didn’t blind him as I’d hoped, but he did stumble backwards with a nasty wince.

Sometime during that sequence of events, Aaliyah managed to fix Dan’s device. Which was good, because a second later White punched me in the face and I went down.

“He has some type of device on his waist!” Dan called.

“What?” White asked, spinning around. He nervously patted his belt. “No I don’t!”

“A little protective of your doodad?” I asked, forcing myself up onto my knees despite the massive face ache (is that a thing?) spreading from my jaw.

Claudia, who, despite a bloody nose and a black eye, was sneaking around the side of White, took the hint. She launched forward, grabbing the device with amazing reflexes, and tossed it at Aaliyah. Aaliyah caught it, and held her wrench up to it like a knife to a throat.

White halted.

“You like this, don’t you?” Aaliyah asked. “It would be a shame if something... happened to it. But I figure if I’m smart enough to invent, I’m probably smart enough to destroy. After all, it’s supposed to be easier, right?”

White scowled. “What do you want?”

“For one, stop punching my friends. In fact, if you leave now, in the morning I’ll leave this somewhere for you to find.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“You don’t have much choice, do you?”

White huffed. “If you don’t return it, you’ll pay.” Then he turned on his heels and left.

Later that day, someone informed us that White used that device frequently to sneak pass police officers and guards. None of us know what happened to the device, since Aaliyah turned it over to the SGU.

And honestly, none of us care.

All I know is that two days later and Dan is still in panic mode and my cheek still hurts.

#writing #from my patreon page #JD Jackson #Ghostmind #original writing #patreon #superheroes

1 note · View note

pensurfing · 5 years

Text

Caitlin’s Three Things List

Okay, so moments (probably hours by the time I finish this) ago I wrote a goals list that I think is good for self-evaluation. (Keyword: This is what I think. results may vary depending on what you’re looking for.)

I’m going to hop to it and answer some of these that I laid out in hopes of having a better idea of what I want to accomplish.

The Three Things Lists!

1) Three things that went well this year.

* Audience growth

So once upon a time, I grew a pretty decent following due to creating an Inktober Prompt list. My expectations: Maybe two of my friends would do this, maybe. And then one stranger that has followed me for a while. (There are a few followers I recognize their username because if I post something they always like it and for some reason that keeps me going.)

But because of this prompt, I was exposed to MANY new creators and illustrators that I now enjoy chatting with and following! Instagram had the biggest maintained growth. I’m excited to create for an audience that actually expects me to create and not just for friends who see my things “whenever they aren’t busy”. (Not to bash them or anything, just there are a lot where unless I tell them, they don’t see the posts I make.)

Another surge of growth in my audience was due to tabling at conventions this year. I was terrified to show my work let alone attempt to sell it to someone. Tabling at cons not only boosted my confidence but also quieted one of my ever going demons. “YoU sUcK aT dRaWiNg CaItLiN.” “How do you have a degree? oh right, you just barely passed.” I can’t say this is the case, there is an audience that genuinely enjoys my scribbles. So I am forever thankful to Atlanta Comic Con for giving me that chance. It honestly opened a few doors for me.

**Process

I’ve gotten more comfortable with showing my process. It can be messy, crisp, and illogical. But turns out the people who enjoy my content enjoy my scrambled thoughts. It’s something about not being alone in this sort of sense that calms the nerves.

So I can say with chest poked out that sharing process has gotten MUCH better. I can thank a self-help book I bought this year that was a FANTASTIC BUY. Austin Kleon has [two] (currently? If he has more then I’m buying it like people buy a name brand.) books that helped me see that it is GREAT to share not only the process but advice. “Show Your Work” is the book I’m talking about for now. Great tips, the outline is on the back of the book. So if you’re like me, I need to clearly see what I might be getting into, you might have a ball.

And finally, (not calling myself out on this but other) If you’re going to respond to people when they ask you “how do you___?” do not answer “Google it”. That is the rudest thing I’ve seen some of even my FAVORITE illustrators do; that response can burn in hell. PERIODT. (my one typo allowed.)

*** Art Style Exploration

For those who think college will help you establish an art style that you’ll enjoy or help nourish the one you currently have.... Let me save you over 80K.... No, the fuck it won’t.

That was the biggest thought I had going into art school. If anything, it confused me more and utterly destroyed what little confidence I had in my drawing style. After graduating, I had a huge swing from how I used to draw to how my art currently looks. I stopped trying to please the one professor who stood between me and my degree and started drawing to please my tastes. And guess what? That did something. And that something WORKED. I love what I draw now; I see why I chose this as my career path. I’m genuinely happy with how my pieces turn out versus in college just wanting to turn the damn thing in and hoping it isn’t an F.

2) Three things you could have handled better.

* The loss of a good paying client.

Now hear me out when I say this: A good paying client DOES NOT EQUAL a good client. Say that three times and then exhale.

Back earlier this year, I had the opportunity to work with a writer who gave me hell and back. And even that is an understatement. I dealt with her because in school you were taught “if they pay on time, finish the work and get the exposure.”

I’m here to tell you my lesson learned: A good paying client DOES NOT EQUAL good exposure, good pay, a good client.

I was doing the work of three for the price of one and a half. (And was always told I charged too much.) She tried abusing this power with friends of mine, with other illustrators. When things turned out bad, she tried saying it was my fault. She read my contract and then tried telling me I changed the wording, I purposely did this thing, another thing was my fault. I could go on with this story.

The part that I wish I handled better?

How I treated myself afterward. I’m so used to people telling me, “Cait, this is what you do wrong. This is how you fix it.” that I don’t consider my own feelings, and when I bring my feelings into the scenario they no longer matter. Because they tell me they don’t matter. In this case, I wish I had treated me better, because my feelings, my mental health, DOES matter.

**My Patience Getting Into Conventions.

Pretty self-explanatory. I got into one, finished one, and wanted to do eight more in a week. But this sort of thing just takes time and I need to accept that.

***My losses

I had to listen to a Little Mix song to actually learn this one. The context of the song is nowhere near the topic at hand. But a verse from Power feat Stomzy really packs a punch after this year:

“ You look him in the eye and say, "I know I'm not a guy But see there's power in my losses and there's power in my wins" “

I had to look one of my demons in the face, and state something similar. My loses mean I’m trying. My loses piling shows I’m not willing to give up easily, and that is something that took a while to be content with.

3) Three things artistically you want to improve on.

*Composition

It’s not awful, but it can be better.

**Color

I told this BOLDLY if I might add while critiquing someone else’s portfolio; “Your color palette is boring. All your [things] look as if they are from the same universe, during the same time of day, with the same kind of mood. After three photos it’s bland, boring, and understood you have a preference.”

Can you say damn Cait? The statement was, in fact, true, but I certainly could not talk. My color palette is mainly bright, pop, and happy. In order to tell a story, I KNOW it is best told with color. And I failed myself this year. But I sure won’t next year.

***My Damn Tag

Okay, alright. Why is it well-established artists have their tag figured out? Even some who’s art style is so recognizable (I’m looking HEAVILY at you Gabriel Piccolo.) we know it’s theirs, seem to have a tag that suits them and works for them. But more importantly, they put it in A VERY DECENT SPOT. SOMEONE SHARE THIS SCIENCE WITH ME? CAUSE APPARENTLY I DON’T GET IT.

4) Three things you want to focus on trying.

*More backgrounds.

As much as it pains me, I need to improve on backgrounds and perspective. When I do make backgrounds, I’m told I make great pieces. That I should look into becoming a background artist. And don’t get me wrong, I like them. But I don’t like them.

I feel as though I need to improve in that region so that way I don’t feel as though it’s a weakness of mine. My backgrounds are nice, but they aren’t nice to my standards.

**More designs

I love character designs, but let’s be real. If you were to scroll down my site or my Instagram page, or even this Tumblr archive, could you tell?

I draw characters a lot sure, but none are designs. No process, no sheets, no turnarounds, none of that. So that’s a huge goal of mine for 2019.

***Scheduling posting

At one point I was pretty good at this. Live stream in Instagram and Twitter, cool. Videos on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Cool. Everywhere gets a photo, everywhere gets a silly one-liner. Yay. I’m not leaving anything out.

Well by the end of this year that totally crumbled.

SO I want to try getting better at that thing there. Because having attempted this at the end of the year was cool, but it still wasn’t enough apparently.

5) Three positive things to tell yourself.

* You are an inspiration. That’s all you wanted to be in life, you did it. I’m proud of you.

**You didn’t kill yourself like you tried to; you opened up about it for once and used that pint up anger creatively. That is very hard to do, trust. I’m proud of you.

***You moved on, matured, and let it go. Even when the goddess inside you told you these peasants didn’t deserve your light, your friendship, your greatness. I’m proud of you.

I’m just proud of me for not snapping when I had every right to; not everything deserves a reaction.

6) Three negative things you want to leave for 2018.

*Comparisons

Oh boy. I am extremely guilty for this: I’ll compare myself to a well-known illustrator my age. I’ll compare myself to friends who are in the field having a blast and getting work; I’ll compare myself to friends who aren’t in the field and they struggle at getting work. I’ll compare myself to the kid I graduated high school with who is traveling the world, is able to eat, come home to his dog and relax because he doesn’t have tuition to pay. I’ll compare myself to these goddamn baby boomers who keep repeating “We didn’t have it hard, you’re just being stupid. Millennials aka our children deserve to starve. We’ll just put our faith in our grandchildren because screw the kids we raised and refuse to pay accordingly. $7 an hour worked in my day, they need to make it work now.” I’ll compare myself to fake people I created in my head and purposely made scenarios and wonder why I’m not like them, said creations I made because I was pretty low for ten minutes...

I just compare myself too much. To any damn body. It’s draining, obnoxious and most of all pointless. My new motto for next year is: “Unless it is helping you grow yourself, your brand, your spirituality, don’t do it.”

I’m not comparing my chapter two to someone’s chapter thirty-five. I’m not even comparing my chapter two to someone else’s chapter two. I need to stop doing that PERIOD! My journey is different, unique, and worth seeing through.

**Listening to negative others.

A couple of years ago, I lost a close friend around the time my aunt passed away. During this time I was hypersensitive to any and everything done or said; I also kept many walls up to hide my mourning. He caught the crossfire of all of that. I kept secrets from him I was too prideful of admitting and lashed out because of the emotional turmoil I kept suppressed. While in the midst of packing his things and leaving my life, he mentioned that I was a failure because I was unemployed and artistically speaking I hadn’t accomplished anything; that I would remain that way because that’s just the person I deserved to be. Now mind you, I graduated college that year; he was a flunk out. I changed my art style dramatically compared to when I started school to pass; he thought just posting crappy pictures of lukewarm sketches were equivalent. I started attempting trends and all he could do was copy. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t to bash my old friend. If he were to come back into my life and move on like nothing had happened I’d do the same. (With some limitations.)

It’s just while typing out this scenario, of our four-year friendship I can’t think of one nice thing/compliment/gesture he has said to me. That’s my problem.

I can be praised, admired, and look highly upon for years straight. But my problem is I let others negative thinking and comments marinate with me for a long while. Too long of a while.

Another example is my mother’s friend. (My mom has many friends that do this shit, but this one stung more.)

This friend always roots for me; treats me like a person, and encourages my artistic journey. I consider her family before my actual relatives.

We went over for some barbeque the family was having and I was ready. Black Hallmark Cookouts, laughing, good food, good music, shit talking others teams. She asked me a harmless question of when was I going to quit my day job. Seemed like nothing at first, until the added gest of what she continued with. “All I’m saying is you can’t do [your day job] forever. That will get old. If the art thing doesn’t work out next year what’s plan b?”

I’m not a calm person (usually). Normal Caitlin would have cursed her out and mentioned how just because she chose a job to settle and be miserable at for most of her life doesn’t mean I have to follow suit. But again, of all the nice encouraging things she has done, said, and showed, for a while, I couldn’t think of it.

So I pray I let go of this nasty behavior in 2018; it’s going to be hard but it is dire.

***Saying I’m Not Enough

Alright, now put the combination of the two above in a bowl and what do you get? A Caitlin who struggles in interviews and applying for jobs because I let comparisons and negative comments rule my thoughts. This stopped me from applying to jobs I would have been perfect for; internships that could have helped me; posting art online.

We (including me) have to stop thinking that in order to be an illustrator means we have to pass a certain threshold of struggle, success, and a huge number of followers. That isn’t the job description. NO JOB DESCRIPTION has ”must have at least 10K followers on Instagram or Twitter.” nOnE.

So we (including me) need to stop treating ourselves this way. Period.

7) Three things you’re looking forward to in 2019.

*Going to move conventions.

**Adding pieces to my portfolio to try again at job hunting.

***Becoming content with the fact that my current situation isn’t my permanent situation. Unless I laze around and make it so.

Alright, so this was basically me calling myself out on my noise. Lashing out my demons and putting it in writing what I want to accomplish. I hope this inspires you to write yours, even if you keep it private. I hope it guides you and maintains your vision.

I’ll see you in 2019

A new wave

Caitlin xx

#pensurfing #new years #new years resolution

0 notes