#false color image processing

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 5: False + cross stitch.

[Image ID: A pixel art of Minecraft Youtuber Falsesymmetry. Behind her is a large, ornate clock face in shades of teal. False is wearing a dark teal overshirt, a red and white striped shirt, and a pair of gray steampunk goggles on top of her head. Her hair is blonde and straight. She has a neutral, thoughtful expression. /.End ID]

Welcome to my first post of Hermit-a-Day May 2025! I've actually half-finished every single day prior to this one, but haven't had anything ready to post until today, so. Here we go. This year, like last year, I will be challenging myself to use a different style or medium for each and every day of the event. Some of those will just be finishing up last year's pieces, since I am eternally full of hubris and am bad at estimating how long projects take. Some of them, like this one, are new!

Today's style/medium is cross stitch. Unfortunately, I didn't actually finish the...cross stitching part of the project on time. I'll be making this in real life eventually, but what you see pictured above is the digital pattern I created for the piece. Details about my process and additional images are under the cut!

I don't really have specific references for this one, other than False's skin and a google images page full of results for "fancy roman numeral clock." I'll take you through my process instead!

I started with pencil thumbnails to get my ideas down, and I settled on a clock background because... y'know, Cogsmeade. I know that's not technically Hermitcraft iconography, but I like it anyway. Then, I painstakingly measured out a pixel art clock in Krita, only to immediately cover up most of it. Here's the clock by itself, in all its glory!

[Image ID: Pixel art of an ornate teal clock face with Roman numerals representing each hour. The clock's hands are elaborate, with spirals and loops along their lengths. /.End ID]

Next, I added False herself. The colors and vibes here are my actual "vision" for the piece--the cross-stitched version is unfortunately limited by what colors of embroidery floss exist and are available at my local craft store.

[Image ID: The same pixel art of Falsesymmetry as earlier in the post, but with slightly different colors. The teal shades of the clock are lighter and more subtle, and the blonde shades of False's hair are more saturated and golden. /.End ID]

Finally, I exported the Krita image to flosscross.com, which is a delightful and extremely helpful tool to convert images into cross stitch patterns, complete with matching the nearest colors of floss available. That's how I got the image at the beginning of this post. Hopefully, before too long, I'll be able to show y'all what this looks like in real life!

(If you read this far, you have my respect and eternal gratitude. Thank you, and happy arting!)

[loviingpedri]

hidden commitment - pablo gavi

prompt: what would happen if your relationship was exposed?

warnings: cursing, grammar issues, stalking (paparazzi), mentions of insecurities, angst (happy ending, ofc!)

credits to owners for all images

you and gavi have been a secret for 6 months. it felt like peaceful without anyone getting into your personal business. every moment with him became more special.

“should we take a walk?” gavi finally had an off day. he wouldn’t want to spend it anywhere or with anyone except with you.

“of course. favorite place as usual?” replying with his smile, he kissed you on the lips and went off to get ready. matching hoodies and matching sunglasses never seemed to fail.

it was very therapeutic to take morning strolls. nobody can spot you in the dark, and it was rare that anyone was even awake. an opportunity to catch up in life should never be missed.

"you look good." gavi approached behind you, sneaking his arm around your waist.

"i was thinking the same thing about you. we do have quite the taste." taking a quick kiss to his lips, it was time for the adventure to begin.

walking out the door, the cold crisp breeze hit your face instantly. the air felt fresh and clean. holding hands with your beloved, the wind picked up, intensifying gavi's scent.

an intensifying, yet subtle mix of a sweet apple that gives relief after a sunny day. his eyes reflecting a sign of almonds and honey as they were filled with love for you. his eye color reminding you of deep, dark, yet candied honey. the inside of an almond representing his pale, creamy skin. you only noticed the special details of him that nobody else could.

talking about the most random things possibly. cracking random jokes that changed the topics within minutes. becoming nostalgic of old memories that summarized how the past few 6 months were able to happen.

toning out the sound of crickets and birds, excusing the rustling in the bushes as an animal. lost in your own laugher, neither you or gavi could hear the camera shutter. pictures being taken as you were wrapped in gavi's warm embrace, synching heart beats. images spreading online as quick as the way gavi spun you in the middle of the street. the night disappearing and fading away just as your smiles after discovering the pictures were all over social media.

gavi was inflamed. you were confused. you just wanted one peaceful night. maybe even even more. it wasn't ideal to go public so early. none of you had a full conversation on this. it would put too much stress. worse part was, nobody was mentally prepared for this.

the media went crazy when it was posted. articles after articles with the pictures were all over it. different angles, different interactions, it really exposed both of you.

"gavi, what do we do?" an overwhelming sense of panic and anxiety came upon you.

"i don't know, okay? this is just as fucking complicated as it is for me," he held his head with his hands as he sat on the edge of the bed. mumbling spanish curse words under his breath. "shitty paparazzi always has to do something."

you rose from the bed. "we need some space right now. contact your publicist, immediately." grabbing your phone and leaving the room, gavi needed time to process things correctly. he was better doing it in silence, as his anger would get the best of him.

opening the guest bedroom door, the emptiness instantly coming into contact with you. the only background noise is the air condition on the highest setting possible.

sitting in the empty room for a few minutes, your phone began to blow up with notifications. follow requests from instagram and tiktok were taking over your screen. how the fuck did they find you?

suddenly, texts from your best friends were pouring in. sending countless articles about your relationship. you took a deep breath. opening each article with your eyebrows becoming furrowed. lies, upon lies were written. the false information that was feeding the media made you rethink of your decisions of this relationship.

next were tiktok videos being sent. opening the comments, your insecurities consumed every inch of you.

'she bagged gavi? she's not pretty enough for that.'

'look at her in those clothes. gavi shouldn't be with someone that weighed that much.'

'did she get lip fillers? she needs a refund from whoever did them.'

'even if she was a gold digger, she should be buying better clothes than that.'

'there's no way she is a gold digger, that money could've been used to do plastic surgery.'

without realizing it, tears were flowing down your cheeks. you put your hand over your mouth to cover up your sobs. you were hurting inside, but you couldn't stop scrolling through the comments. soon, you heard gavi yelling in anger into his phone. your head was pounding. too many thoughts, emotions, and problems were piling.

your heart beat increasing rapidly. your vulnerabilities crashing like waves in your mind. the hurtful comments struck your skin as thunder. the saltiness of your tears streaming. your heavy breathing to stop your anxiety. you were crumbling into sand.

hearing the bedroom door open, you wiped your tears quickly. gavi walked through the door ready to speak, but stopped in his movements. he could see the redness in your eyes of sadness.

"have you been crying, my love?" he sat next to you on the mattress, slowly reaching his arms out. feeling his warm embrace, something wasn't right.

"we need to talk." both of you said at the same time.

"you should probably go first." you told him in a whisper.

"no, it's okay. you're going through a rough time."

"i know you just got off the phone with your publicist. what's the next step we should take?" he cleared his throat. he looked scared to speak. opening his mouth, a lump formed.

"it's better if we take a break."

silence.

he imagined you being hurt. your pupils told him otherwise. you were thinking the same thing.

"i understand. i think that's best for the both of us." he nodded as he stood up. indicating he was going to pack his stuff, he seemed more hurt than he did. him and his publicist discussed other options if the first one didn't work out. he imagined you fighting for your relationship, but you were seriously going to let it go like that. gathering his belongings, he realized that he didn't know how much to pack. his head was in denial of emotions. he packed up and left without any formal of goodbye.

——————————————

two days had passed after the unfortunate events. gavi had ensured he would have full security around the house to protect you. it was then you realized that it was sunday. meaning you had to go grocery shopping or else you would starve for the week.

changing into a little red top that revealed some skin, pairing with a leather jacket and leather pants. the realization hit you that you needed to cover your face. one person recognizing you could end in you becoming surrounded in a crowd full of questions. taking a red scarf given to you by gavi, you wrapped it around you, making sure to cover the lower part of your face.

meeting up with a security guard at the market, it was like a normal grocery shopping spree. until, you accidentally bumped into someone. this caused your face to be exposed.

"holy shit, you're y/n!" you gave the person a quick smile before rushing into another aisle. word must have gone around fast. you were circled with a crowd of people. some having cameras ready. the scarf was long gone from your face.

"y/n! is it true you're dating pablo gavi?" smiling was the only answer you could give them. smiling was another way of apologizing by running them over with the cart.

cameras continued to shutter and the flash nearly blinding you. "who is this man right here? is he your boyfriend? are you cheating on gavi?" you tried to hide your facial expression, but that was one of the dumbest questions you've ever heard.

apologizing to the cashier for the commotion, you grabbed your things and left. driving around multiple circles due to cars following you. you nearly fell to the floor after the experience.

"need some help with the bags?" you jumped in fear. getting a closer look to the couch, of course pablo gavi was sitting there.

"holy shit. you nearly gave me a heart attack." passing the bags towards him, he shared his gummy smile.

"you should really change the locks." putting the cereal away, you looked at him confused.

"how come?"

"it was that easy for me to enter."

"gavi, you had the key. we're on a break. besides, why are you here?" putting the last thing in the fridge, you poured yourself a glass of water. looking into his honey eyes as he sat down across the kitchen island.

"i wanted to apologize for putting you into this mess. i'm sure we can get through it though. it would be better to do it together, not really alone."

"are you asking to get back together?" you hid your smile behind your cup, taking another sip.

"yeah, i guess you could say that. we could go out for dinner tonight."

"can't believe the famous gavi is asking me out." he winked at you.

there was no more hiding. love was meant to be expressed. you couldn't escape the paparazzi, but it was no secret that you were happy. pictures of you holding hands at a restaurant really sealed that the world can mind their own business.

[aspaceinthecosmos]

Are you a Neptune enjoyer? well I've got some news that will ruin your day! (:

(yes, this news is a couple weeks old now, I had this sitting in my drafts and forgot about it)

We all know Neptune. the beautiful dark blue, windy planet, the farthest planet in our solar system, discovered by math, etc. etc.

[ID in alt]

right?

WRONG.

turns out, when voyager 2 imaged Neptune, the photos were processed in false color to better show the clouds in its atmosphere. While astronomers at the time all knew about this color change, throughout the 34 years since then, the sentiment got lost. Neptune was depicted as dark blue in everything from children's books to university books, and everyone took it as fact that Neptune was, in fact, that shade of blue. But it isn't.

In true color, Neptune is a much, much lighter blue, coming in at only a few shades darker than Uranus (cursed, i know).

Above is the false color image compared to the true color image, while below is true color Neptune compared to true color Uranus [IDs in alt]

anyways I hoped you enjoyed this session of cursed space news with jupiter! smash that like button and subscribe for more *awkward thumbs up*

[kingkaisen]

FIVE HUSBANDS

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

♡ — 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eren, armin, connie, jean, levi, & reiner x celebrity reader

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Following Connie’s murderous attack on two of your ex lovers, one of them fights to stay alive, but the other person tragically died. Your world has turned into nothing but a mess of rumors, sadness, and fear, but there is hope — and hope comes in the form of your remaining lovers who haven’t yet given up on you. But, in the end, your heart will forever belong to your one true love.

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || MINORS DNI || DARK CONTENT — fem reader, modern/celebrity au, brief sex mention, heavy angst, marriage, divorce, cheating, mentions of violence & blood, gun mentions, miscarriage, mentions of false imprisonment, toxic relationship, manipulation, stalking, murder talk, suicide consideration, illness, hospitalization, & major character death. Some of the warnings listed here don’t necessarily apply to this part, but the series as a whole.

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 23k

♡ — 𝐀/𝐍: Hi everyone! Welcome to part 8, or rather, part 1 of the finale. Shoutout to @spicerackofblorbos for helping me plot this! I can’t believe this series is coming to an end. Please let me know what you think in the comments or in my inbox! There’s one more part after this.

— YEARS AGO - NEW YORK CITY —

“Mom? We’re back.” The front door — old with worn-out creases along its faded white wood — creaked when you opened it. 

If your mother couldn’t hear your voice as you greeted her upon returning to your apartment, then the sound of the raggedy front door announced your presence for you.

“Hey bird,” your mother’s comforting nickname, derived of the word songbird, made you smile. It always warmed you up, just like her cooking did as well. Even with a tight budget, her meals were always exceptional. 

Expensive ingredients grown and processed in beautiful foreign countries couldn’t compare to meals that were made with the love of a mother, who stood over a hot stove, preparing recipes that had been passed down from one generation to the next.

Perhaps, the thought of food was on your mind thanks to the tantalizing aroma of stew simmering in the kitchen a short distance away. A few steps away from the front door usually landed you right in front of the stove — the outdated apartment was rather cramped.

It too had been around for generations and generations.

Stepping to the side, you let Armin Arlert enter your home before shutting the squeaky door behind him.

“Armin’s here,” you called out, but truth be told, you didn’t need to. Armin was always here. He was practically family.

Together, you both made the short stride into the living room, where your mother was sitting on the couch, watching television. It wasn’t the nicest or most modern T.V. set in the world, but even so, Armin’s blue eyes were instantly glued to the impressive screen consisting of moving images. He didn’t have a T.V., and all of the other fifteen-year-old kids his age made it their duty to make fun of him for it.

“Hi miss L/N,” Armin greeted your mother, a soft smile gracing his face, his eyes darting between her and the television.

“Come on and have a seat.” Your mother nodded to the empty spot on the sofa next to her. Her hands were steadily knitting what appeared to be a blue sweater.

Armin politely sat down beside her. 

You sat on the floor as there wasn’t enough room on the tiny, dark grey sofa — your mother despised the depressing color; she dreamed of having a cushiony beige couch with lots of decorative pillows. 

You leaned your head against Armin’s knee, feeling the cool fabric of his worn-out blue jeans against the side of your head. Unbeknownst to you both, your mother saw the gentle display of affection, and she smiled. 

The sight of her daughter slowly falling in love — even if neither you nor Armin realized it yet — warmed her heart. 

“We can switch if you want to sit on the couch,” Armin offered.

“I’m fine. I like the floor.”

Armin ruffled your hair a bit. “Okay,” he said.

Turning his attention toward your mother, who glanced between the small and heavy T.V. and her knitting project, glasses hanging around the tip of her nose, he asked, “What are you watching?”

“The news,” placing both of her knitting needles in one hand, she grabbed the remote sitting on the arm of the sofa next to her and turned the volume up three notches. 

“I know you teens don’t watch the news nowadays, but you both should look at this, now. A kid in L.A. around your age just got arrested for playin’ too rough.”

“Huh?” You wrinkled your nose. “What does that even mean?”

“He was hangin’ out with his friends and ended up pushin’ one of them down a hill. Poor baby got hit by a speedin’ car. Now the boy who did it is gonna go to prison.” 

As you looked at the television screen, the image of a mugshot appeared. It was a teenage boy with sickly pale skin — probably stress-related, you figured — and a shaved head, his hazel eyes shining with tears.

“This story made national news because your generation needs to learn to be more careful. You two are always hangin’ out outside, so just be safe, alright?”

“Yes ma’am,” you and Armin replied in unison.

Several minutes of news-watching passed on by. Your stomach started to rumble, hunger greeting you like an unwelcomed, familiar friend. 

But if you were hungry, then Armin must have been starving. 

Unlike you, he didn’t have breakfast that morning, or dinner the night before. Though the servings were small, it was better than surviving off of small pieces of bread and water like he was forced to do.

Turning around, you glanced back at him. He was fidgeting with his thumbs. 

The sweet smell of food traveling from the kitchen to underneath his nostrils certainly didn’t help the hunger pain.

While he knew your mother would offer him a warm plate, as she always did, he didn’t want to let on just how starved he was. He was too polite to show any indication that he was hungry.

But you recognized the signs. He was your best friend, after all. 

And you knew what to do.

“Mom? Is the food ready? I’m hungry.”

“Hm?” She mumbled, distracted by the news, which displayed the teary-eyed teenage boy in court, handcuffed like a criminal. “Oh, yes. Everything’s ready. You two go wash your hands and get somethin’ to eat. Make sure you turn the stove off.”

After making your filling, steaming bowls of stew, you and Armin decided to eat your food outdoors, sitting on the curb in front of your apartment.

The sky was a darkening shade of blue, orange streetlights brightening up the road — which meant you couldn’t go beyond the curb.

Mom’s rules.

Insects chirped in the distance in the high, green grass nearby. Fireflies started to dance.

“I hate when my mom watches that depressing stuff,” you said, scooping up a soft carrot with your spoon and taking a bite. “She always turns it into life lessons too. Like, I’m not gonna push you in front of a car or whatever. I’m not that stupid.”

“She just wants you to be safe,” Armin paused to swallow his food. “I think it’s kinda sweet.”

“You’re just saying that because she’s feeding you,” you teased, elbowing him gently. “She’s your best friend right now.”

“Got that right.”

For a few moments, you and Armin both ate in a comforting silence.

“Do you have to leave soon?” With a frown, you glanced up at him. “Mom said she wants to cut your hair.”

“Guess it’s getting pretty long, huh?” Armin touched his blonde strands. “I can’t stay though. Work.”

“Really? But what about school in the morning? Can you even work this late? Aren’t child labor laws a thing?”

“Shush, it’s fine.” Armin stood up, and you did the same. “I’m dropping out of school once I turn sixteen next year, so I guess it doesn’t matter if I show up tomorrow tired.”

“Okay,” you mumbled with a little frown. “I’ll take your bowl back inside then since you can’t stay or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Armin smiled kindly. “And tell your mom I said thanks for the meal.”

Suddenly, the fifteen-year-old reached down and plucked a yellow weed out of the ground. 

“Dandelion,” he said. With a playful grin, he stuck it behind your ear. 

“Get that dirty piece of grass out of my hair,” you grimaced, but even so, you didn’t dare remove it. 

“Absolutely not,” his grin softened. Despite his smile, his blue eyes glistened with sadness. He despised leaving your side, even for a work shift. “Well, I bid you an adieu or whatever.”

Your childhood friend started to walk away. 

“That’s the worst French I’ve ever heard, but bye!” You shouted with a small laugh.

However, your amusement quickly died out. 

A stomachache from hunger — which was now gone, thankfully — was similar to the twisting pains of watching your friend walk away, even with the promise of seeing them again. 

As if sensing your sudden sadness, Armin briefly turned around. The orange streetlights illuminated his kind face. 

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled back. “See you later. So long, or whatever.”

With a soft smile, Armin started to walk off again.

The boy you unknowingly loved was gone.

— PRESENT DAY - LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA — 

“Good morning everyone, and thank you for watching KTLA news. I am Daniella Robinson, reporting live from outside former CS Records manager Levi Ackerman’s house here in Los Angeles, California. Yesterday evening, police dispatchers received a disturbing phone call from singer and actress F/N L/N, in which she claimed that Eldian Devils band member, Eren Yeager, had been shot. Along with him, a waiter named Armin Arlert was shot as well. Both men were ex-husbands of Y/N, and after being questioned by the police, Y/N claimed that they were apparently shot by her current husband and owner of CS Records, Connie Springer.” 

The breeze blew through the young woman’s black hair. She stared into the camera lens in front of her, clenching her microphone.

“We have not been able to get our hands on the original phone call made by F/N L/N yet, nor reach out to her for a statement, but images of her leaving the police station with Levi Ackerman are currently being posted all over the internet and social media platforms, with some headlining articles claiming that the shocked woman, soaked in blood, looked like Carrie White, a fictional character from a horror novel created by Stephen King. As cruel as those comments are, they pale in comparison to the onslaught of articles, videos, and tweets circulating social media accusing Y/N of shooting the two men herself, or at the very least, conspired with Connie Springer to do so. 

While the police haven’t been able to locate Springer yet, we do know that Y/N is inside Levi Ackerman’s house, whom she has been accused of having an affair with in the past while married to Reiner Braun, an actor. When it comes to the fate of the two victims, Eren Yeager pulled through a very complicated and fatal surgery and is currently in a coma. However, Armin Arlert succumbed to his injuries, and has died around two A.M. this morning. Stay tuned for further updates as they become available to us.”

—

Annie Leonhart had warm hands.

Levi’s living room was cold. The air conditioning blasting throughout his mansion made sure of it. But Annie’s fingertips graced your skin before she wrapped her hand around yours snugly, and she was warm. You were grateful. 

Her sudden, comforting touch reminded you to breathe. To stay in the present.

The mechanical click of your eyelids cleared your blurry vision, which granted you the ability to see her hand holding yours, intertwined fingers resting on your thigh — your legs covered by a pair of black sweatpants you hadn’t seen in a long time. 

It must have been an article of clothing you accidentally left behind after moving out of Levi’s home a long time ago. 

Temporarily living with Levi after Eren got arrested for physically assaulting Jean was, perhaps, the last time a piece of ordinary fabric touched your skin. Nothing fancy. Nothing worth hundreds or thousands of dollars. 

If only you could go back in time.

If only you could have fixed everything back then. 

If only your problems were still revolved around being a heartbreaker, and not witnessing murder.

No.

That wasn’t good enough.

If only you and Armin had stayed in New York City together, spent your days working in that little bakery and sitting on the rooftop of that abandoned building, staring at the beautiful stars above.

But now, you would never get a chance to look up at the stars with him ever again. 

You would never get another chance to stare into his gorgeous eyes, listen to his soft voice, or hug his warm body — his subtle scent of cinnamon rolls washing over you.

He was gone.

He transitioned from this world and into the afterlife not surrounded by loved ones as an old man in a cozy bed as he once dreamed, but surrounded by unknown surgeons — cold, terrified, and in an unspeakable amount of pain. 

Nothing could bring him back. 

Nothing could . . .

“Hey,” Annie softly called out. 

The blonde-haired woman leaned forward a bit. You could see her concerned gaze within your peripheral vision. You didn’t have the energy to turn your head and face her. 

“Your breathing was . . .” Annie paused, trying to search for the right word. “Just try to breathe.”

Breathe.

What a difficult activity that had turned out to be.

Your panic attacks were something Levi had told Annie to watch out for. He gave her quite a few directions as he gathered his belongings, getting ready to leave his home.

“I’m going to pick up Carla and Grisha from the airport and take them to the hospital,” Levi had said earlier. “I have to keep Eren’s parents safe. What a fucked up world we live in.”

Eren forced his family to leave Los Angeles to get away from Connie. They dreaded the thought of living far away from their son, especially when their boy forced them away for their safety, and yet, was staying behind. His poor mother often stayed awake at night, sitting by her cell phone and staring at the television, hoping that her famous, endangered son would survive another night in Hollywood — hell on earth, as she liked to call it. 

Her worst fear had come true.

Her beloved son had been shot and could die at any moment — while she was packing her bags, boarding the private jet with her distraught husband, or during the long flight from Maine to California.

“I’m about to leave,” Levi stepped into the living room after grabbing his car keys. “Come here, Annie.”

Annie pushed herself off of the couch, and the two of them stepped into the foyer.

“Listen to me,” Levi frowned. “I’m not worried about the paparazzi outside. They know better than to step on my property, so just let them take their shitty pictures from across the street. I don’t know where Connie is, but if he’s watching any news channel, then he knows Y/N’s here. He could show up. If that happens, there’s a gun in the storage closet. There are cameras outside as well, so you can see whoever’s walking around my house using the tablet in the living room. Keep the doors and windows locked.”

“Okay,” Annie nodded. “Anything else?”

“Reiner’s on his way,” Levi’s eyes darted away from Annie’s for a moment. “I don’t know if I can trust him, but he’s been calling my phone all morning. He was going to show up here anyway, so I’m hoping he can help you watch and protect her, but . . . keep an eye on him too, alright?”

“Wait, if you don’t trust him, then why would you let him come over-”

“I don’t trust anyone. Not entirely. But in this shitty situation, I don’t have much of a choice. You and him are my best bets. Mainly just you, but I don’t like the idea of you being here by yourself either. I trust him enough, okay? But still . . . watch him. You can’t ever be too goddamn cautious.” Levi unlocked one of the double doors. “I’ll call if anything happens.”

“Okay,” Annie said.

When Levi opened his front door, bright lights from invasive cameras flashed repeatedly. News reporters and paparazzi screamed his name. He shut the door behind him, which muffled the chaos outside. Annie locked it with a sigh, grateful for the silence.

The cold surface of the front door soothed her worries a little when she leaned her head against it.

She wasn’t used to dealing with stuff like this. 

When it came to protecting others as a women’s rights advocate, her work usually revolved around starting protests. Creating petitions. Hosting fundraisers. Telling misogynistic men to go to hell. 

As a stunt double, she’d fill in for celebrities during action films, and she had incredible skill when it came to parkour and martial arts, but beyond that, she wasn’t involved in celebrity scandals or murder tales happening in real life. 

Along with that, she barely knew you. 

You both spent time together, going out to dinner, grabbing drinks, or playing cards at Levi’s house, but it was never alone. It was always with the others: Mikasa, Sasha, Reiner, and occasionally, Levi. 

She didn’t mind watching over you. It was the right thing to do. 

But . . . if Connie came through Levi’s door with a weapon, would she put her life on the line for yours? 

Her life?

Annie touched the lock on the door. 

Who could blame her for wanting to leave? For not wanting to be your security guard and risk her own life?

She started to unlock the door, started to reach for her phone to call Levi and tell him that she couldn’t do it — but she didn’t.

She took her hand off of the lock.

If she left you alone and something happened, especially at the hands of your crazy, murderous husband, she would never forgive herself for leaving a defenseless woman behind with nothing but a gun you didn’t know how to fire.

Annie sighed once again. Taking the hair-grip off of her wrist, she pulled her hair into a low ponytail.

How likely was it for Connie to show up, anyway? With the cops looking for him and several potential witnesses with cameras and microphones outside, it was highly unlikely. 

Not to mention, it was Levi Ackerman’s house.

And Levi was truly a dangerous man.

“You can leave.”

Annie was startled by the sound of your voice, but the calm woman kept her composure. 

Slowly, you walked into the foyer, your hands in the pockets of your sweatpants. You coughed dryly. While you weren’t actively contagious or dying, you were still under the weather — someone who should be in bed, resting and recovering.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine,” You gave Annie as much of a smile as you could muster, which amounted to a half-hearted grin. 

One that — despite barely knowing you — she could see right through.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie said, stepping toward you and away from the door. “Come on, you should be in bed. Levi didn’t wash those sheets for nothing.”

Pressing a warm, comforting hand against your back, Annie started to guide you in the direction of the guest room, but before you both could make it far, frantic knocking occurred at the front door.

Based on the way the noise from outside picked up, along with the flickering white camera lights peeking through the curtained windows, Annie gathered that it must have been Reiner.

Even so, she ran to grab the tablet off of the living room coffee table first, and when she opened the camera footage, she saw a worried, kind-looking man impatiently waiting for the door to open, trying his hardest to avoid the cameras snapping rapidly from a distance.

Annie opened the door and practically pulled the man inside by his forest green jacket before shutting the door back and locking it. 

“Reiner,” you called out, and those gentle eyes of his locked with yours.

“Oh my god,” he sighed with relief. Blinking, a tear fell. 

Reiner walked over and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a comforting hug you so desperately needed.

The tall, gentle man rubbed your back soothingly, and you exhaled. Only then did you realize you were holding your breath.

“I couldn’t see you in the hospital,” Reiner leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “I tried, but Connie was in the lobby. Wasn’t sure you’d wanna see me anyway, but I had to see you now. I’m glad you’re safe. I’m sorry for your losses, Y/N. Both Armin and your baby.” 

“Reiner . . . you should leave Hollywood as quickly as you can.” 

“I’m not leaving without you-”

“Stop. Yes, you are.” Pulling away from him, you looked into his eyes with a glassy gaze. “Connie shot Eren and killed . . . Armin because of their affiliation with me. He’s gone fucking crazy and you need to leave. I need to find Jean and tell him to leave too, or not to come back if he’s already gone. I-I haven’t seen him lately. Levi should go as well. Everyone should, even Annie and Sasha and-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Annie interrupted, folding her arms across her chest. “Let's say we all move to Maine or Rhode Island, and for a while, we’re safe. Then what? We change our appearances and identities? Hide for the rest of our lives?”

“She’s right,” Reiner looked over at Annie, then stared back into your eyes. “Connie left you alive. Make him regret it.”

Several hours had passed.

Sitting at the breakfast nook in Levi’s kitchen, you couldn’t help but think about the good memory, a fleeting moment of happiness, that had occurred around this table, long ago. Drinking and playing cards with the others while Levi cooked steak a short distance away. 

Even he had managed to smile that day. 

Now, on this horrific day, Reiner was making homemade baked potato soup for dinner — his mother’s recipe. He knew how much you loved her cooking. A recipe for disaster, she called it, and meant it literally. 

“Whenever I was sick or feeling down, mom would make this for me,” Reiner said softly as he chopped up some potatoes. 

While Reiner cooked, Annie got up from her spot in the booth-like breakfast nook, turning around a bit as she opened the blinds, peeking out of the window.

“Everyone’s still out there,” she announced. “I think there are more reporters now, actually.” 

“My fault,” Reiner said, tossing a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “The world knows I’m here now, too. Not to mention they know Levi left and will return. They probably plan to bombard him on his way in.”

You had no idea what time it was, but nighttime had arrived, and Levi hadn’t called. 

It was odd, to say the least.

“I hope Levi’s alright,” you mumbled. 

Folding your arms on the table, you rested your head on them as if to hide and avoid being seen.

“I’m sure he’s just busy. He said he’d call if something happens, so I’d say him not calling is a good thing.” Annie closed the blinds and sat back down. Reaching out, she touched your hand. “How are you feeling?”

‘I feel like Eren’s going to die and Levi’s next. Then Connie will pick us all off one by one because no one is taking me seriously when I say everyone should leave California. But I also don’t give a damn. I just want to die so I can see Armin again,’ you thought. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just worried.”

Suddenly, the tablet — which Annie had brought into the kitchen, not wanting to be far away from it — dinged, alerting everyone of detected motion around Levi’s front door.

Someone was right outside.

The distant, invasive shouts coming from the reporters and paparazzi camping out on the street had increased in volume, along with the flickering lights, which shone through the blinds.

“Must be Levi,” Reiner grabbed the tablet off of the kitchen island to double-check, but as he did so, the person outside knocked on the door. 

Levi wouldn’t need to knock. 

He had a key.

“Who is it?” Furrowing your brows, you watched the man frown in confusion.

“It’s, uh . . . Jean,” Reiner faltered worriedly. “He looks terrible.”

Opening the front door yourself was an idiotic idea, one that resulted in blinding lights and overwhelming shouts of your name. You grabbed Jean’s wrist. He winced in pain.

Letting go wasn’t an option. With cameras both snapping pictures and recording live for the entire world to see, releasing Jean’s wrist would lead to speculation and rumors. 

Why did Y/N let go of his wrist so suddenly? Did Jean yank himself away from her? Were they secretly hooking up and she had forgotten that people were watching them, so Jean pulled himself away? Is wrist-grabbing a secret code? Why is Jean at Levi’s house to begin with? Are all of Y/N’s ex-partners in on something? Did they . . .

You had no choice but to pull Jean inside and shut the front door behind him.

If there was any doubt that you might have been inside Levi’s house before, well, you gave the world confirmation just now. 

Looking up at the tall man, you had opened your mouth to speak — to ask him what he was doing here. Where he had been. Why he flinched when you grabbed ahold of his wrist. But at the sight of him, your jaw simply hung open in pure horror. 

Eren’s sudden disappearance upon hearing about your hospital stay had abruptly ended the Eldian Devils tour, but Jean Kirstein hadn’t been by his side during the last few shows before then. Every promo picture and trending Twitter video showed Eren on stage rocking all by himself under the guise that Jean was “sick” and unable to perform. In reality, Connie’s Silent Men just weren’t careful during their routine beatings and had given him injuries that no amount of makeup could fix, so they kept him out of the spotlight. 

However, Jean’s whereabouts were unknown even after Eren ended the tour, and no one truly cared.

No one knew that they should have cared.

Slowly, your trembling hand covered your mouth. It was a subconscious act. A result of shock.

“Jean,” Reiner called out, stepping into the foyer. “What the hell happened to you? Where’ve you been?”

Jean could hear the man speaking, but his bloodshot eyes only stared into your sad ones, not bothering to look away. 

But your eyes did. 

You scanned his entire body — every bruise, every scar.

Much like Eren was when he visited you in the hospital, Jean was thinner too. Hollow cheeks right underneath his dark undereye circles. His long-sleeved, dark blue shirt was loose around his upper body. His black jeans were baggier. While certain visible parts of his pale body were black and blue with old bruises or bright red from fresh scars, it was nothing compared to his hands.

Jean cherished his hands more than anything. 

He cherished them more than any other body part. More than his fans. More than money. 

Anyone could say what they wanted about him, that he was a homewrecker, attention seeker, living in Eren’s shadow — it didn’t matter. As long as he was acknowledged as a musician.

Playing instruments and making music was what made Jean Kirstein Jean Kirstein. He needed to stroke the keys of his piano, write lyrics, or layer chords just as much as he needed to eat and breathe. Connie knew that. 

He knew that making music meant everything to his former best friend.

“Connie hurt you, didn’t he?” You cupped Jean’s injured, bandaged-wrapped hands with your own, eyeing his scratched fingers that were formerly twisted. Someone must have given him medical attention.

“Not directly,” Jean coughed dryly. He hadn’t spoken in a long time. “His men did. Per fucking usual.”

“What happened?” Your eyes ran across his ruined skin. “Tell me everything.”

You, Annie, and Jean were all sitting at the breakfast nook while Reiner continued to make his soup over the stove, ensuring that there was enough for Jean to have some as well, and Levi, once he returned.

Jean eyed the cup of water sitting on the table in front of him. The droplets of condensation slipped off of the cool glass and pooled around the circular bottom, spilling over onto the coaster. 

He wanted to drink the refreshing water you kindly made him, but with the state his hands were in, he was certain he’d drop it. And he didn’t want to ask for a straw. He didn’t want to ask anyone for anything.

No one had ever given a damn about him before, especially you. Not that he could have blamed you.

Jean spoke of the inhumane treatment that Connie had put him and Eren through during their last-minute tour. As he described the abuse — a look of anger, sadness, and disappointment on your face in the form of a clenched jaw, furrowed brows, and glassy eyes — it had confirmed one thing: you had no idea what was happening to him and Eren. And he was relieved. 

“I was living in his house . . . I married him . . . and I didn’t know that he was still treating you guys that way. I should’ve known. I don’t why I just assumed he’d stop.” Your hands started to tremble. “I’m so sorry, Jean.”

“What happened after you couldn’t perform anymore?” Annie asked plainly. “Where’d you go?”

“I was being punished,” Jean smiled sadly in disbelief. “Those assholes blew my pupil, so I couldn’t go on stage or be seen in public, and the company had lost a lot of money trying to make up for my absence — refunding people who bought meet-and-greet passes to see me — but it wasn’t my fault. But they locked me in the recording studio anyway and fucked up my hands so I . . . couldn’t play anything. Kept me locked in there for weeks until now.” 

You shuddered. 

“Jesus,” Reiner exhaustedly rubbed his eyes with his hand. His grip on the stirring spoon tightened. “That’s sick, Jean. I’m so sorry. We had no idea.” “How’d you get out? Did they let you go? Have you seen Connie today?”

Jean shook his head, answering your last question first. 

“I haven’t seen him. Uh . . . Levi found me. I guess he was the only one who noticed I was missing.” Jean’s eyes glistened with sadness. Being forgotten hurt more than his festering wounds.

“Anyway, he got me out of there, fixed up my hands, stuck me in a car with a driver, and told me to come here. He told me what happened too. I’m sorry for your loss, Y/N. Armin was a good person, far as I know. He deserved to live a long life.” 

Your eyes darted down to your lap. Your throat was dry — a lump had formed in it that was practically painful and felt as if it strained your neck. It wouldn’t go away. Right now, you needed the glass of water sitting on the table just as much as Jean did.

“Levi said he was going to the airport to get Carla, then to the hospital,” Annie blinked, her face emotionless as she spoke plainly. “You’re saying he also stopped at CS Records, got past Connie’s security, and freed you? That doesn’t seem right.”

“I agree.” Reiner pulled down several bowls from the cabinet across from the stove. His tone, however, wasn’t exactly accusatory but filled with curiosity. “How’d he know where to find you in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Jean shrugged. “But think about it, big guy. Levi and Connie used to be pretty close. There was a time when CS Records was nothing more than the band, Connie, and Levi all working from a cheap rented-out studio. In a way, Connie owes a lot of his success to Levi, I guess.”

“So Levi pretty much knows how Connie thinks,” Annie said.

“Yeah. Got that right.”

Hot baked potato soup was poured into four white, glass bowls. Reiner served everyone. When he made his way over to Jean, the bowl clinked gently as he sat it down on the table in front of the injured man. Discreetly, he put a straw in Jean’s drink and moved the glass cup closer toward him.

Jean looked at him with his light-brown eyes, casting a grateful glance as a silent thank you.

Reiner gave him a nod. 

Jean watched as the blonde-haired man whispered something into your ear, and then motioned for Annie to grab her soup and follow him out of the kitchen.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Jean watched you move from one side of the breakfast nook and scoot around the booth until you were sitting right beside him.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you eat,” you grabbed his spoon, scooping up a bit of soup with a tiny potato chuck in it.

‘Oh, I get it,’ Jean thought. ‘Annie and Reiner must’ve left so I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed about being spoon-fed like a baby. This fucking sucks.’

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said caringly as if reading his thoughts. “We all need a little extra help sometimes.”

When you raised the spoon to his mouth, Jean hesitated. 

“Come on,” your encouraging words were followed by you darting the spoon toward his lips a bit more. 

Finally, he took a bite.

“I understand how you feel,” You said, lowering the spoon back into the bowl of soup. “Levi had to help me bathe. Scrubbed me down because I couldn’t do it myself. Like I said, sometimes people just need a little more help.”

A tiny wave of relief washed over Jean. Your words helped.

Silently, you fed Jean another bite, then several more.

“Your own soup is gonna get cold,” Jean nodded in the direction of your steaming, awaiting bowl across the table. 

“There’s a microwave here,” you said bluntly. 

“Alright, smartass,” with a teasing tone, Jean smiled a bit. 

“Excuse me?” You said with both shock and playfulness. “Alright, fine. Since you wanna call me that . . .”

Your words trailed off into a curious silence that piqued Jean’s interest. Scooping up another spoonful of soup, you guided it towards Jean’s mouth. This time around, you decided to coo and sing at him.

“Here comes the airplane, open wide! You can do it!” 

“Y/N, I swear on my mother that I will bite your hand. I can’t fight you right now, but I’ll chew the hell out of your finger.”

Suddenly, you laughed. 

It was that big, beautiful laugh that no one had heard in what felt like a lifetime — the wholehearted chuckle that your nauseating media-training classes had driven out of you. 

The version of yourself that used to experience such joy had died a long time ago — suffocated to death by the pressure and weight of fame, torturous love, and neverending misery. 

To hear it again was a blessing. 

You didn’t know if your soul allowed for such boisterous laughter anymore. 

And for Jean, witnessing such a sight made him feel like he was falling in love all over again. 

The corners of his mouth twitched. He was heartbroken and joyous at the same time. He wanted to cry and laugh. 

The sound of your laughter had attracted Reiner, who stood in the archway of the kitchen, grinning. He was happy to hear your laugh again as well, even if his heart did sting a bit from jealousy.

After all, he wasn’t the one who caused it. 

“Sounds like someone’s cheered up a bit,” Reiner said softly. 

“Tell . . . tell Reiner what you said,” you huffed out, attempting to control your laughter as you gently tapped Jean’s arm. By now, your cheeks were hurting. It was a beautiful feeling.

“I think you’re the only person who would find that funny, Y/N.” Jean grinned, rolling his eyes playfully. Memories of you — the old you — laughing at the smallest, most insignificant things flashed in Jean’s mind. 

Witnessing the look of disgust and sadness on Eren’s face when he accidentally dipped his chicken finger in cocktail sauce instead of ketchup and ate it made you nearly do a spit-take with your water one day during your brief time touring with Eldian Devils long ago. 

Coming across a mediocre meme online had you clenching your stomach and finding the nearest person to show. 

You were just that sort of person. Or, at least, you used to be.

If human beings had true individual purposes and Jean’s was to make music, then yours was to laugh.

“Y/N, can we talk for a sec?”

Reiner’s sudden serious tone snapped Jean out of his pleasant thoughts. 

The last few huffs of laughter died out, your smile faded away, and you nodded. 

Scooting out of the booth, you followed Reiner — grabbing your soup and bringing it along with you.

From what you knew about Levi, he wouldn’t be too pleased with you eating such an easily spillable meal on his couch, but Reiner didn’t want to chat with you in the formal dining room. It would have been too odd, he figured.

“I know now isn’t the right time, but maybe when things are . . . better,” Reiner paused, “I was hoping we could go out for dinner and talk about everything.”

“By everything, do you mean us?” You sat the bowl of soup down on the coffee table. You had lost your appetite again. “It might not be the conversation you’re hoping for, Reiner.” “I know. I just want to know what happened. How did you go from loving me to marrying Connie? Did he really get in your head that much, or did you really love him?” 

Reiner’s words carried a harsher, heavier tone than he had intended. And when he was met with silence as a response, your eyes fixated on the unlit fireplace, Reiner sighed softly.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up right now. It’s selfish.”

“It’s fine.” Turning to look at him, you tried your best to smile as a way of easing the tension. “I mean it, it’s fine. You deserve an answer.”

“You don’t have to give it to me right now, though. I can wait.”

Reiner was always that type of person — the kind-hearted lover. The savior of some sort. He was even the perfect ex, oddly enough. 

“I do love you, Reiner,” you said softly, yet sternly. “Just like I told Eren; I love all of you. I thought I didn’t. Tried to convince myself that I kinda hated all of you, but I realized that wasn’t true.”

“What made you realize that?”

Your eyes flickered down to your shoes. A smile of regret flashed across your exhausted face. “When I successfully pushed everyone away and forced myself into a loveless marriage. When I almost died. When I lost my . . . kid. I wanted someone to be there — You, Levi, Eren, Jean . . . Armin — I just needed all of you. But I can’t have all of you.”  

“I think . . .” Reiner paused, his eyes squinting a bit as he thought about his words carefully before uttering them. “I think that, even so, you loved Armin the most. We were all fools to think otherwise. I saw the way you touched him . . . hugged him the longest the night you told all of us to leave you alone. . . kinda pieced it together then. He was your soulmate.”

Soulmate.

What a horrific word.

The boy you had grown up with, the dandelion-plucking, hardworking, beautiful blonde-haired baker from New York — the one with the scarred hands and a sweet smile, who smelt of cinnamon and enjoyed reading. 

He was the other half of your soul, it would seem.

He was the human part.

And he was gone.

He appeared in your imagination bittersweetly. Standing in the high grass underneath a darkening evening sky was Armin, seven years old with a big head and even bigger blue eyes, holding his tiny hands out so the nearby fireflies would land on his skin.

The second grader wasn’t interested in catching them in a jar to keep as a pet like you were. 

Then, Armin was a teenager, grabbing your wrist and taking you to the breathtaking rooftop of an isolated building to look at the stars, rambling on and on about his dreams, which were rather grand for a poor person.

Lastly, Armin was an adult. He rolled cinnamon rolls. He flipped burgers. He poured concrete. He kissed you. He loved you. He married you. And he waited for you to come back to him.

And he was gone.

Your one true love was dead.

It took Reiner’s large hands gripping your shoulders to snap you out of your overwhelming memories, and only then did you realize that tears were pouring from your eyes, your breathing unsteady as heartbroken sobs fell from between your lips. During such a moment, you weren’t in control of your own body.

Armin was. 

The thoughts of him were wreaking havoc.

The burning feeling in your chest — you couldn’t take in enough air. Couldn’t catch your breath. 

You thought about his look of fear when the bullet from Connie’s gun pierced him.

Annie appeared at your side suddenly, kneeling next to your leg. Her warm hands held onto your trembling ones. She was speaking, but you couldn’t hear what she said. 

You thought about the blood pouring out of Armin’s body.

Screaming sobs made Jean’s ears ring as he rushed into the living room. Drool fell from the corners of your mouth.

You thought about how scared and lonely Armin must have felt, dying on that operating table as a result of your mistakes. 

You killed him! First, you killed his soul by breaking his heart, and then, your chaos involving Connie led to his death. It was all your fault. You might as well should have been the one holding the gun, firing it. 

‘It’s all my fault, all my fault, all my fault,’ you thought. ‘Armin’s gone. Never coming back.’

Tears blurred your vision. 

“What the fuck did you do, Reiner?” Jean shouted above your sobs. “She was fucking laughing a minute ago, and now she’s-”

“I didn’t do anything,” Reiner argued back, but his words were riddled with guilt. “We were just talking and she started crying. What do we do, Annie?”

“How should I know?” Annie frowned, trying to steady your violently shaky hands. She felt just as guilty as Reiner. She was supposed to know. 

One of the front double doors suddenly opened and slammed shut. Jean whipped his head around, startled, and walked into the foyer to see a pissed-off Levi Ackerman.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Jean could barely hear him over the sound of your cries, but he knew that the man was asking the most obvious question. Without waiting for an answer, Levi furrowed his dark brows, gritting his teeth as he swore, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown.

He took off his jacket and tossed his keys somewhere. 

Three people whom he trusted to look after you had failed. You were on the verge of a mental breakdown, and here they were, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights when he stepped into his living room. 

“Move,” he ordered Reiner, who pointlessly rubbed soothing circles onto your back.

As much as Reiner wished he could be the one to comfort you, to soothe your sobs and cries, he defeatedly rose from the couch and let Levi take his place.

Levi put one of his legs behind you, stretching it out over the couch cushions. With his entire body facing your side, he reached up, grabbed your shoulder, and slowly, cautiously, pulled you toward his chest. Once your cheek hit his heart, he started to ease back, laying down on the sofa with your body in between his legs and your head on his chest.

Annie grabbed your legs and put them up on the sofa.

Levi’s hands soothingly rubbed your shoulder. “I know,” he whispered. “I know. I got you.”

He didn’t bother with shushing you or telling you that everything would be okay — pointless and meaning acts that provided little comfort. 

He couldn’t promise that everything would be alright.

But he knew that you were hurting. 

And he wasn’t going to let you go through it alone.

“I got you.”

—

It was between midnight and one A.M. when Levi’s eyes lazily fluttered, the click of his lids opening his sharp eyes to reveal a blurry, white, high ceiling amongst the darkness. 

His muscles were sore. As he tried to shift around, he felt the weight of something preventing him from moving.

It was you, fast asleep on top of him. 

He was still on the living room couch, still dressed in his day clothes. 

‘I must’ve fallen asleep too,’ he thought.

Last he could remember, you were starting to calm down, and Reiner tossed a blanket over you. 

Then, the three useless caregivers went home. 

Reiner invited Jean to crash at his place, seeing as the musician could barely use his hands, and Reiner had his own security in light of Connie’s chaos as of late.

A small sigh fell from Levi’s chapped lips, his throat as dry as the desserts he once visited during his time in the military.

He was dehydrated thanks to all the running around he did yesterday, forgetting to drink a sip of water, and yet, he had to pee badly enough to have had a toilet appear in his dream.  His bladder ached from fullness, but he didn’t want to disturb you. 

Levi glanced down at your head pressed against his stomach, more so the outline of it due to the darkness, the moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains of his big living room windows as his only source of light, and he smiled softly. While watching you, he studied your rhythmic breathing — the easy rise and fall of your shoulders.

However, as all good things must come to an end, Levi’s phone started to ring. 

Your eyes fluttered open, a sleepy frown gracing your face. The absence of your warmth as you sat up made Levi frown as well.

Just like that, Levi had pointlessly risked receiving damage to his bladder, because whoever his midnight caller was had disturbed you anyway.

That’s when it hit him.

If someone was calling him at such an ungodly hour, it couldn’t have been good news.

His stomach dropped at the realization, his phone ringing, screaming to be answered, and meanwhile, you were staring at him with wide, worried eyes that held both exhaustion and dreadful anticipation. 

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Levi spoke with an unusual hoarseness, his voice low and raspy from both waking up and unquenched thirst.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket. His stomach dropped when he saw the caller ID. It was Carla.

“Who is it?” You asked.

Levi didn’t answer. He didn’t let his internal worry be reflected upon his face, either. With an expression as blank as a new sheet of paper, he tapped his screen and answered the call.

“Hello?” He gave a small cough.

You could hear Carla speaking, but you couldn’t make out the muffled words coming from Levi’s phone, which he pressed against his ear with a firm hand. His hands weren’t trembling like yours. 

Despite the quietness, it was impossible to hear Eren’s mother talk to Levi thanks to the thumbing of your heart, which echoed in your ears. 

Levi’s face suddenly paled in color.

“We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

“You need to get dressed, Y/N.” He rubbed the lower half of his face with his hand.

“Why?” A tear rolled down your cheek. Your question hadn’t yet been answered, but your soul knew. “What’s wrong?”

Levi’s eyes wouldn’t meet yours. He had no idea how to process what Carla just told him. 

The woman who spoke to him moments ago with a croaking voice and devastating news had told him that the boy he had known for years — the aggressive kid with a kind heart, the one whose family adopted his cousin, the boy who cried on his shoulder when Marco died and Connie went to prison, the person who gave him an insanely fancy mop for his birthday and would always unintentionally mimic him when they were younger, simply wanting to be like him — he was dying.

The doctors estimated that he only had two more hours to live.

“We need to go see Eren.”

The implication was obvious, just as obvious as the fact that Levi was holding back his tears.

Right now, you wanted to find the gun you knew Levi kept somewhere, stick the barrel into your mouth, and meet Eren in the afterlife — greet him once he arrived.

By now, you were out of tears. 

All worn out and dried up inside from mourning one love, and your body could no longer process how to grieve another. 

Numbness ran through your veins. Settled underneath your cold skin. Buried itself into your aching bones. 

The tiny part of your brain that could still function right now presented a horrific, intrusive thought, that perhaps you simply didn’t cry for Eren because you planned on meeting him in Heaven or Hell or another life or wherever your souls went after death soon enough. 

And you’d see Armin too.

All three of you, free from pain.

Maybe you would see your mother again, or meet Eren’s old friend, Marco.

Suddenly, a heartbroken smile appeared across your face.

It was brief, but Levi saw it, and it shook him to his core.

Getting off of the couch, you went into the guest room and got dressed. Your dragging footsteps echoed down the dark hallway.

—

“Y/N! Please give us an autograph, please!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Turn this way!”

“Y/N, is it true that you are the reason Eren Yeager is in the hospital right now? Did you have a hand in the shooting?”

“Y/N, what are your thoughts on being called Carrie White? Is it true you’re going to star in Hander Tapper’s new horror film inspired by your photos? Y/N, please answer!”

Fans and paparazzi alike crowded the brightly lit hallways of the hospital. Pests, they were. Security guards and local police officers held them back like bug exterminators, letting you and Levi squeeze through into the blocked-off, spacious sage green and brown waiting room where a teary-eyed Carla Yeager sobbed into her hands.

She was sitting in a wheelchair, her husband, Grisha, gripping the handlebars as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“She fainted,” Grisha croaked out. 

Levi approached them first. 

Crouching down, he hugged the unconsolable woman, rubbing her back gently. 

You went for Grisha, hugging him with a face as blank as a blind man, deprived of any and all emotion. 

Only then did you realize that there were other people in the waiting room. 

You recognized some of them as distant relatives of Eren’s family that you had once met. Aunts. Cousins. Even the dear uncle he was named after. He sat in a chair tucked away in the corner, tear-soaked face hidden behind his hands as he thought about the times he carried his nephew on his back and spun him around.

Jean was there too, fixated on his phone. He pressed a button, put his device against his ear, and mumbled into it. From where you stood, you could only make out a few words.

“Mikasa . . . emergency . . . Eren . . . call me back . . .”

“Go see him,” Grisha sniffled, pulling away from the hug.

Levi appeared at your side. Grisha’s sad eyes darted in his direction. 

“H-He shot my baby boy . . .” blinking rapidly, tears streamed down Grisha’s red-stained cheeks even harder, soaking the collar of his white ironed shirt. “That’s my baby boy.”

Suddenly, a freckle-faced woman with big, black, curly hair walked over and wrapped her arm around Grisha.

Her frown lines were rather deep, the crinkles by her eyes much more detailed than they should have been, for her youthful, light brown eyes had shown that she was younger than she appeared to be.

Misery had aged her.

Call it a gut feeling, write it off as a lucky guess, but somehow, you knew that you were staring at Marco’s mother.

Levi’s calloused fingertips graced your wrist as he wrapped his hand around it. 

“Come on,” he said softly.

Two slow footsteps in the direction of the nearest nurse were interrupted by the miserable woman’s voice. 

“Wait,” Marco’s mother called out. 

Leaving Grisha’s side, she approached you and Levi.

“Seeing Eren in such a state will be traumatic,” she warned, her voice raspy. “Sometimes we think seeing someone before or after they pass is the best choice, but consider that this will be the last time you see him alive, and determine whether or not you want that image in your head. Please think about it.”

She spoke from experience. The trembling weary in her voice was a telltale sign. 

“We have to say goodbye,” you spoke plainly. 

“He has a tube down his throat, wires connected to him, machines hooked to almost every part of his body . . . I beg you to think about this.”

“I understand,” you replied with as much compassion as you could muster, but Eren could pass away at any minute. This conversation was a waste of precious time. “I want to see him anyway.”

The woman nodded sadly.

After all, you had seen Eren get shot. Witness the blood pour out of him. Saw him fight to stay alive. 

You had already witnessed Eren in a state that would traumatize you forever.

After approaching the awaiting nurse, you and Levi were escorted down the twisty hallways. This part of the hospital was rather different. 

The white walls were decorated with stained glass of angels, pinned-up flyers containing advertisements regarding churches and grief counselors, and other religious symbols of the afterlife.

It was as if the hospital was declaring Eren to be deceased while his heart was still beating.

Levi held your hand.

Only then, feeling his grasp, had you realized that you were trembling again. 

But at least you weren’t alone.

The nurse slowed her footsteps as she guided you both to a doorless room. The dark-skinned woman smiled sympathetically and walked away.

Marco’s mother spoke with honesty. 

Eren was strung up like a puppet. It was a struggle to walk to his bedside, cords and wires decorating the floor and proposing a tripping hazard to anyone who wasn’t careful, but the nurses tending to the beeping machines walked over them with expertise. 

However, the miserable woman didn’t detail that the hardest part about seeing Eren like that wasn’t the tube down his throat. It wasn’t the wires hooked to his body and the machines, or the constant beeping that you didn’t know the meaning behind and were too afraid to ask.

It was the look on his face.

His eyes weren’t open of course. His skin was pale. Dark circles settled under his eyes. Cheeks were hollow, as he was skinnier than he ever should have been.

Truth be told, he was casket-ready. Physically, at least.

His face told a different story.

Maybe it was your imagination. Maybe it was the natural state of his face. You wouldn’t know.

But his eyebrows were furrowed, as if he was stuck in between anger and fear — pissed off at the fact that he was dying and couldn’t do anything about it, or, perhaps, terrified of what would await him after death.

‘He’s a fighter,’ you thought.

If only one could live if their will was strong enough. If only the universe worked that way.

Leaning down, you pressed your soft lips against his forehead. 

If he was awake, he would have smiled. Affection from you had always reduced the rowdy rockstar into a shy, blushing mess.

Pulling away from Eren, you noticed little droplets on his face. 

You were crying; your tears fell from your eyes and splattered onto his skin.

Gently, with a trembling hand, you wiped it off. 

“Sorry,” you whispered to him.

You turned around to face Levi, but he was staring down at his hand, which held Eren’s, positioned carefully so as to not touch his pulse oximeter.

“I’m sorry, Eren,” Levi mumbled weakly. “I failed you.”

You took a careful step back. It was obvious that Levi had the courage to say goodbye first. 

He took your former spot, leaning down to speak to the dying man, uncertain whether or not he could hear him. It didn’t matter. 

He said what needed to be spoken.

“I was supposed to protect you from all this.” A tear rolled down Levi’s cheek. He placed his hand on Eren’s head. “You needed me to be there for you, and I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me for it. You’re too damn young to-” 

Levi couldn’t continue. 

He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. 

Without casting a glance your way, Levi stroked his thumb over Eren’s forehead and left the room.

It was your turn to speak. The lump forming in your dry throat made it nearly impossible, every word requiring effort and great strain, but you had to do it. 

You had to say goodbye, a bittersweet opportunity you didn’t get with Armin.

You stood by Eren’s bedside, the machines beeping as the nurses walked from one side of the room to the other, and you leaned down.

“Eren, it’s Y/N. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here,” weakly, you sniffled. “Uh . . . everyone’s in the waiting room. You’re not alone, okay? So don’t be scared. We’re here. If I know one thing about you, it’s that you’re fighting like hell to stay alive, aren’t you? No one knows how to fight like you do. You even fought for me once, and I’ll always be grateful for that. Thank you for loving me. And I love you too, okay? So don’t ever doubt it. I’m still hoping that you’ll wake up, but . . . if anyone deserves to rest, it’s you. And . . . maybe I’ll see you soon, Eren.”

Once again, you kissed Eren’s forehead. 

When you left the room heavy with the aura of death, you didn’t return to the waiting room with the others.

Instead, you walked down a bright white hallway with a big medical cart in the middle of it, but deprived of fans and paparazzi, and stepped through the automatic see-through doors, exiting the hospital and walking into the darkness.

It wasn’t odd to see a person walking down the streets of Los Angeles wearing a hood. None of the late-night drivers knew that Hollywood’s biggest heartbreaker was the one teetering dangerously close to the road, walking along the curbs of the busy streets.

It took about two hours of walking through the city to reach your destination. Even among the honking cars, screeching tires, rumbling engines, and booming radios, you could still hear your phone ringing in your pocket. 

You pulled it out after a while.

Eleven missed calls from Levi.

Eight missed calls from Jean.

Darting your eyes down to the bottom of your notification screen, you had a handful of text messages from both of them, but you didn’t bother to read them.

Everyone was either looking for you or trying to tell you that Eren had died.

You put your phone back into your pocket.

Darting across a spacious road that wasn’t busy, orange streetlights as your source of light due to the absence of any headlights from nonexistent cars nearby, you cut through the abundance of trees — this particular foresty area was drastically different compared to the rest of the bustling city.

There, grass and leaves crunched under your feet as you made your way over to the faded green bridge, covered in vines, towering over a body of water.

It was a hidden location that Mikasa had often spoken of, quite different compared to the rest of L.A., but of course, the adventurous woman adored it. She’d often take you here for a quick lunch as a way to free you from the hustle and bustle of the suffocating city, if only for a meal’s worth of time. 

Truth be told, coming here wasn’t your intention. Your soul led you here; your body was along for the ride.

Or the walk, rather.

Approaching the middle of the isolated, raggedy bridge, you sat on the ledge and swung your feet across. 

‘What now?’ you thought. 

The cold water below flowed slowly. Your hands gripped the edge of the ledge. Your mind was split in half — part of you wanted to hang on for dear life, while the other half wanted you to push yourself off. 

It sounded so freeing. Death did. 

Maybe you’d see your mother and father again. Maybe you’d see Armin and Eren. Maybe . . .

Once again, your phone started to ring. 

Why you hadn’t muted it, you couldn’t be certain. 

And why you decided to pull it out now, you wouldn’t ever know. 

Maybe it was to get confirmation regarding Eren’s fate. Maybe a small part of you wanted Levi to talk you out of it. Perhaps, it was so if you did decide to make that body of water below you your official place of death, you would at least be able to die knowing you had spoken to Levi one last time. 

Why that mattered to you, you had no idea.

“Hello?” You said. 

You braced yourself for the heartbreaking news by looking at the water, thinking about how badly it would hurt to come in contact with it, but you were ready.

“Are you okay? Where the hell are you?” Levi rushed out over the phone.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” 

It seemed as if your decision was made: to not haunt Levi by making him aware of your impending demise. 

“Where are you, Y/N?” Levi insisted yet again. Even with an unsteady connection due to your shady location, you could hear the worry in his voice.

“Did you call me because he . . .” 

You couldn’t finish your question. You could only think about the water.

“No, I called you because I can’t fucking find you,” Levi replied. After a beat of silence, Levi continued to speak. “His condition has improved slightly. He’s still holding on. Must’ve been you.”

Miracles — what a stupid fucking concept. A cookie-cutter, mechanically human response to a pleasant aftermath of devastation.

One, specifically, you did not believe in. 

One person’s miracle was another person’s tragedy, more often. People would call it a miracle when someone survived a deadly car crash, even though they caused it, and the person they hit going 90 miles per hour was dead.

Your fans often claim that your music, your utter existence, somehow saved their life. That you were a miracle. But here you were, sitting on the ledge of a raggedy green bridge.

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

“Y/N, please tell me where you are.” 

Levi — with his serious, and yet increasingly worried tone — snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I’m fine, I swear-”

“Then why won’t you tell me where you are? Why wouldn’t you answer your phone?”

“I just wanted to be alone,” you lied — well, not entirely. It was the truth, as you did desire solitude. “I’m sorry.”

Right now, you figured that he and everyone else should have been worried about Eren. Not you. 

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

“Are you safe?”

The concern and utter fear in Levi’s voice had revealed one thing to you: he cared about you more than he had ever expressed with words.

Perhaps that was obvious. It should have been.

He tried to save you from Connie.

He banded together with your other lovers, but his intent was never clear. Was he trying to win your heart, or did he simply want you to be free?

He fucked you during that one drunken night. You carried his baby until you lost it. He took care of you like someone would care for a loved one.

But he never said he loved you.

What was Levi Ackerman fighting for?

But . . . maybe, just maybe . . .

The way he said those three words — not I love you, those were unspoken — but the way he asked if you were safe. He said it with love.

And, for now, that was enough.

“Not really,” you admitted. You could hear his breath stagger over the phone. “Can you come get me?”

“Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

The phone call ended. 

Not wanting Levi to know your exact whereabouts, you made your way to a nearby diner as quickly as you could before sending him the address.

Sitting on the curb waiting for him to arrive was rather odd. You were hungry. The smell of fresh coffee and buttery pancakes flooding from the 24-hour eatery made your stomach rumble. Desperately, you wanted to yank that door open and order three servings of whatever the old man behind the counter was cooking.

With your head down, and hood up, you looked and felt like a homeless person, not the glamorous celebrity who was currently on the television inside of the partially empty diner.

It was an entertainment news station displaying footage of you and Levi arriving at the hospital. Even though it was around four A.M., those nosy headline-seeking reporters wouldn’t give it a rest. 

But, then again, a famous rockstar was dying.

What happened between you, Connie, Eren, and Armin was the biggest news in the world right now. 

But, even with your face plastered on the television while you sat outside of the little restaurant, you realized that you were both. 

A homeless person and a glamorous, rich celebrity.

You’d have to purchase a home once again after selling your last one — assuming you still wanted to live. 

Levi’s familiar black vehicle pulled up in front of the diner much more quickly than you had expected.

You got into his car, and thankfully, he didn’t bombard you with thousands of questions.

Instead, you looked over at him as he started to pull off, and asked, “Is he still alive?”

“Yeah,” Levi replied, his eyes on the road. “The next twenty-four hours are crucial. He could go either way. But there’s still a chance he could pull through.”

“What changed?” You fidgeted with the string of your hoodie dangling across your chest, looking out the window. “How did he go from having only two hours to live to possibly being able to pull through?”

Levi didn’t respond immediately. It took him a moment.

“I don’t know, but I’m not optimistic.”

“What?” You whipped your head in his direction and looked at his side profile — his jawline sharp as he clenched and unclenched it. 

“Sometimes, a person’s condition improves before they die. It’s fucked up. It gives you false hope that the person will make it. It happens all the time.”

“I take it you’ve seen it happen to someone, hm?” 

Your accusation made Levi grip the steering wheel a bit tighter. 

“My mom. Cancer,” he answered dryly. “Anyway, I just wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s happening now, but who the hell knows? Those damn doctors surely act like they don’t.”

You didn’t respond. 

Neither you nor Levi said anything else during the drive back to his place.

The sky was an inspiring canvas painted with soft orange and blue colors as the sun started to rise. With a yawn, Levi arrived at his home, grimacing at the sight of a few lurking reporters and paparazzi still camping out around his place. 

There weren’t as many as before — several of them flocked to the hospital upon discovering Eren’s worsening condition and you and Levi’s presence there. 

“Wish I could run over these bastards,” Levi mumbled. “I wouldn’t mind going to prison for that. I’ll smile in my mugshot. I don’t care.”

A soft laugh escaped you. 

Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of it. 

—

The rest of that day was a challenging blur. 

Trying to eat. Trying to sleep. Left to wonder. Left to wait.

Not knowing if Eren would live or die.

Not knowing if you would live or die.

Eventually, one day led to another, and that day led to the next. And the next.

You’d eat breakfast — something quick. Something easy. Usually, eggs or oatmeal prepared by Levi. Then, you’d visit Eren at the hospital. Say a few words.

At one point, a young nurse asked you to take a picture with her. It was fine, though. You were used to holding back tears and faking a smile.

Even though Eren had survived beyond what the doctors had twice predicted, he was still in a coma. He still wasn’t out of the woods.

After visiting Eren, the rest of your day would typically amount to trying to divorce a missing person, arranging Armin’s funeral with Levi, and being involved in the ongoing investigation into what happened that night with Connie. 

He was still nowhere to be found.

But he was working — using his money to work in favors from a distance.

You might have revealed to the public that he was behind the shooting, sure, but the billionaire used his power to once again influence the justice system.

And just like that, the finest investigators in L.A. had millions of dollars, and there wasn’t any surveillance camera footage of his car on the road that night. 

When you watched the police department hop on live television and indirectly detail how Connie Springer couldn’t have been involved, you had expected all of it to fall back on you.

“He’s going to put the blame on me, isn’t he?” You asked Levi with a face full of tears.

“I won’t let that happen.” 

Levi’s words were comforting, but did they truly have meaning? Was he planning on influencing the justice system with millions of dollars as well? After all, he hadn’t achieved billionaire status like Connie had. Plus — he was unemployed from the very job that made him wealthy. Just how much money did he have in that savings account of his? Did it have anything to do with investing? Did he have other, secret ways of making money?

—

Going out in public was dangerous if Connie wasn’t behind bars, but you’ll be damned if let fear force you into missing Armin’s funeral.

It was a quaint ceremony — it had to be that way, not only because Armin wouldn’t want anything drastic, but because it was the only way to remain hidden from paparazzi and reporters who wouldn’t mind crashing a heartbreaking ceremony for a few pictures.

The majority of the people who showed up amounted to coworkers. It made sense. He was always working, and in a twisted way, his fellow waiters, construction men, and other peers from his previous jobs were his family.

There was nothing — nothing — quite like seeing them lower Armin’s casket into the ground.

It was a sight that took the strength out of your legs, frying your brain until simple functions like walking were a challenge.

It should have been Connie in there. That’s what you thought. That’s what you wished.

Especially when you decided to open the pile of letters collecting dust on your nightstand a few days later.

“How the fuck can he do this to me? How the fuck is this possible?” Tossing down a stack of paper on the desk in Levi’s dark home office — where he sat behind it, typing away on his computer before you stormed in — you continued to both shout and cry.

You were so sick of crying. Tired of tears. 

With brows furrowed in confusion, Levi picked up the letters that were previously folded three ways, indicating that they came in envelopes that had arrived in the mail.  

It made sense.

The entire world knew that your current residence was with Levi. 

Including him.

Unable to sit in any of the black chairs in front of his desk due to your horrific anxiety, you slowly paced back and forth as he read the letters from the bank and collection agencies. 

In short, you were broke, just as poor as you once were when you arrived in Los Angeles as a former baker from New York who had to split sandwiches to survive. 

Connie naturally owned everything that belonged to his artists. Blame the shitty contracts.

But, in your case, you married the bastard. He had his hand in everything tied to your finances. Tied to you. 

And he took it all away.

“Y/N-”

“It’s my fault.” You cut Levi off. Abruptly, you stopped pacing. “I know, okay? I don’t . . . don’t need to hear you say it. I didn’t protect my finances from Connie when we got married, I just . . .”

“You just thought you were the one who had him trapped, not the other way around.” Levi put down the letters. His face was unreadable. “We need to find out if these letters are even real.”

“It’s real,” you said with a sniffle. “I called every fucking number they listed. It’s real.”

“We should’ve seen this coming,” Levi paused. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. 

For someone who always claimed to only want wealthy people associated with his name, Connie certainly didn’t mind leaving his enemies to rot in poverty.  

A deep, shaky breath escaped from between your lips. Slowly, you sat down in one of Levi’s chairs as you said, “It’s my karma, right? For marrying him for wealth . . . tricking him with a baby that wasn’t his . . .”

“Does he know?”

Levi’s eyes darted away from yours. Aside from when he cared for you that night after Armin and Eren were shot and you confessed a truth he already knew, neither one of you talked about the fact that you once carried his baby. 

“Uh,” you sniffled once again, shifting in your seat. “I don’t know if he knows the baby wasn’t his. If he knew it was yours, he might-”

Levi interrupted you, but not with words. 

It was with a dry, yet soft, laugh.

“Shoot me like he did Eren and Armin. That’s what you were going to say, right?” Levi paused. “He’d never.” 

You opened your mouth to speak. You flickered your eyes across the room, feeling rather puzzled as you started to piece things together.

“Levi?” You spoke with caution, preparing to ask a question you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer to. “Why hasn’t Connie come after you yet?”

Levi didn’t answer.

You spoke again.

“Aside from being fired and getting a letter threatening your friend, Connie has left you alone. Tell me why.” You bit your lower lip. “Jean and Eren were basically tortured. I was imprisoned. Reiner’s family could have burned to death. Even Armin was beaten, and yet . . . you sent Erwin to rescue me. You stormed Connie’s house with everyone else. You embarrassed him by getting caught sleeping with me, making his company look bad or whatever the hell it is he was always saying. You pissed him off more than anyone else, but you . . . you and your cousin, Mikasa, were always just fine. You still have your nice house even without your overpaid job. There isn’t a scratch on you. You haven’t been locked away. Your loved ones are fine. Tell me why.”

“What are you trying to say? What exactly are you accusing me of, Y/N?”

Suddenly, you pulled out your brand-new phone, the one Levi had purchased for you. 

Your old phone was still with Connie. 

Unlocking your new phone and tossing it on his desk, Levi darted his eyes down at it, then back up at you.

“I always thought it was kinda funny how my stalker took photos of us from right outside your house. But, surely you didn’t have anything to do with it, because why would you get yourself in trouble, right? Unless you knew nothing bad would happen to you. And you knew it would make you look more innocent.” You nodded down at the phone. “Open it. Read my recent messages.”

Levi hesitated, but then, he picked up your phone and scrolled through the recent thread of messages and photos from an unknown number.

The texts were all similar in nature. Different variations of someone claiming they were watching you while snapping pictures of you in public.

“What the hell does this have to do with me?” Levi’s frown deepened. “You think I’m somehow behind you getting stalked? Or do you think I’ve been working with Connie this entire time? Which is it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s both. Maybe you’re behind everything along with him.”

Levi’s glossy eyes glistened with hurt. 

“I promise you that I’m not working with Connie. I’m not the one stalking you, either.”

“Then why hasn’t he come after you?” By now, your hands were trembling again. And although it was cold in Levi’s office, that wasn’t the reason why. Once again, you sniffled. “Why won’t you answer me?”

Amid Levi’s silence, you got up from the chair. “Okay, that’s it. I’m fucking leaving.”

You didn’t have any place to go, truly. Instead of money, you had to rely on hope, that maybe Reiner, Jean, or Annie would let you stay with them for a little while. 

Assuming you could trust anyone right now.

“Wait,” Levi called out defeatedly. “Don’t leave.”

Slowly, you sat back down.

“I’m not stalking you, and I don’t know who is. I’m not working with Connie either.” Levi’s voice softened. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not guilty of some things. I’ve been with CS Records as a manager since the beginning. I saw everything he did become successful. I knew how he treated people. I knew what kind of monster he was, but I didn’t do anything about it. He made me one of the richest managers in Hollywood, so I kept my mouth shut. I let good people get hurt. I told myself I couldn’t do anything about it because he could kill me and make it look like an accident, but that was just an excuse. I didn’t start pissing him off until you came around, and I just wanted to protect you.”

“That’s why you were apologizing to Eren when you were saying your goodbyes. He’s one of the people you let get hurt.” You glared at Levi. “Still doesn’t explain why Connie leaves you alone.”

“He leaves me alone because I have evidence. I���ve been collecting it since the day he made Eren and Jean sign their first contract.” Levi made unwavering eye contact with you. It sent a chill up your spine. “He doesn’t know where it is, doesn’t know what it is, so he can’t destroy it. But he knows I have it.”

“Seriously? That doesn’t make any fucking sense! How the hell does he know you have evidence but doesn’t know what it is?”

“I alone am a piece of evidence, because I’m a witness to almost everything he’s done.” Levi got up from his seat. He walked around his desk and leaned back against it, and he looked down at you.

“Listen. All you need to know is that Connie doesn’t touch me because he knows I could ruin his life. He knew I’d be fine if he fired me. I’m smart with my money. Anything else would be crossing a line with me, and he knows that.”

“Then why haven’t you come forward with all this evidence you’ve been collecting?”

“Because I don’t know if it’ll be enough.” Levi paused. “I give it to the police, then what? He’ll just pay to get it tossed out.”

“If that’s the fucking case, then I don’t get why he doesn’t come after you anyway if he knows he’ll get away with it. Wouldn’t killing you solve that problem?” Your glaring only intensified. Levi, however, remained calm.

“Probably, but I also have the guts to kill him,” Levi replied. 

After all, Connie wasn’t the best shooter. Two out of three of his recent victims had survived. If he tried to murder Levi to get rid of any evidence and the skilled man lived, then the retaliation would have been horrific. 

You raised your eyebrows in shock. Then, your face fell into a blank expression. You chuckled a bit.

“I’m telling the truth,” Levi spoke with sternness, and yet, his voice was soft as well.

“I don’t care,” shaking your head, you could see Levi’s heart break a bit. It was reflected within his intense, sad gaze. “If what you’re saying is true, then you’re still the bastard who stood by and did nothing while Connie abused his artists with contracts and all of his fear tactics. And you let me join that fucked up label as well, and you didn’t say a damn word. Collecting evidence — for what? So you could continue to sit back and do nothing? You’re telling me he won’t touch you because you’re apparently so goddamn dangerous that he’s afraid you’ll kill him, but yet, you don’t have the power to throw his ass in jail? I don’t care if he dies. I don’t care if he goes to prison. But something has to happen to him. You have to do something — you could have done something. What will it take for you to even try? Was-Was Erwin getting shot not enough? Was him torturing people not enough? What about Armin getting murdered? Remember him? The guy who had you as his emergency contact because he trusted you? Or what about Eren? The son of the people who adopted your cousin? Will you finally do something once I die? Is that what it’ll fucking take?”

Once again, you rose from your seat, but this time, Levi didn’t try to stop you.

“I get it. You’re not as rich as him. You can’t influence people to the degree that he can. You give the evidence to the police, he gets rid of it, and then there’s no point. But you should have tried. You should have tried years ago. Hell, even two months ago would’ve made a difference,” you started to make your way towards his front door. He followed closely behind. “You were always fucking lying . . . saying you couldn’t do anything because of his gun or his Silent Men or whatever . . . there was always an excuse. And, let me guess, taking me in and caring for me was your way of apologizing? Was fucking me supposed to make it all better too?”

“Are you serious?” Levi followed you into the foyer. The anger in his voice — an anger you hadn’t ever known to come from him — it made you stop walking and turn around to look him in the eye. But despite his harsh tone, his gaze was filled with nothing but hurt. The amount of pain — you hadn’t recognized that either. “You tried to use our baby . . . my baby . . . as a way for you to get revenge on Connie, and I didn’t say a word. It’s hilarious how you’re pissed with me for not taking down the same bastard you married. You were more than willing to let him continue to be a piece of shit if it benefited you, and I didn’t say a word. You’re no better than I am.” You’re eyes shifted away from Levi, but he continued to speak. “Maybe I should’ve done something a long time ago, but if you can recall, every single one of us stormed Connie’s house, ready to put a bullet in his head, and you told all of us to fuck off. You yelled at us for trying to handle him. Now you’re yelling at me for not handling him. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you want when it comes to anything.”

“You should have done something long before I got involved with him or with you. You should have done something years before you even met me.” Your voice was softer now. Levi couldn’t tell if your shaky words were laced with guilt or with quiet hatred.

Thanks to the darkness of the foyer and you standing in the dark shadows, whereas he stood in the moonlight spilling in through the nearby windows, he could barely see your face. 

Regret and guilt bubbled up inside of him until his insides felt rotten. It wasn’t a matter of who was right and who was wrong, nothing was that simple when everyone had regrets that kept them up at night, tossing and turning in bed, but Levi knew one thing: he didn’t want to lose you.

“Let’s just sit down and talk about this,” he said. He hated the way he sounded, but he hated the idea of you leaving even more.

“Nope, there’s nothing else to talk about,” you stared at Levi with dark eyes he couldn’t recognize. “All of those media training classes you and Connie put me through told me it was improper to voice my opinions like this. Remember?”

When your hand touched the door handle, Levi’s hand grabbed your wrist. 

“What? Are you gonna imprison me too? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Your jab hit Levi like someone slapped him across his face. As a former member of the military, and as someone who had quite a rough childhood, he was good, old friends with pain.

But nothing had hurt quite like your words.

The ache in his heart had spread to every limp. It was an unfathomable pain he could feel down to his fingertips.

There was an unpleasant prickle of hot tears threatening to fall. His waterline brimmed with them. He wasn’t the type of person to cry easily, but that changed when it came to you.

Everything changed when it came to you.

“It’s late at night. You have nowhere to go and no money to get anywhere. If you want to leave, I won’t . . . I won’t stop you. But you should call someone and ask them to pick you up. If you try to walk, all of the goons with cameras outside will just follow you down the street.”

You didn’t let go of the door handle. Levi continued to speak. “We could also sit down and talk it all through. I made mistakes. I’m human, and a shitty one, but I’m sorry. Me helping you out wasn’t to ease my guilt. I did all of that because I care about you and you know it. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Only a few seconds had passed, but to Levi, it felt as if you were both frozen in time for an eternity, plus an extra minute. 

Your hand released the door handle, and Levi let go of your wrist. Suddenly, you turned around and started to walk away, your shoes lightly stomping against the floor. You walked past Levi as if he was invisible.

“I’m calling someone to come get me,” you shouted, making your way back to Levi’s office to retrieve your phone. “Once I’m done, you can have that phone back. And never speak to me again, got it? As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as bad as Connie.”

—

One hour later, Reiner arrived to pick you up from Levi’s house. And, of course, cameras flashed continuously as you made your way to his passenger seat and slammed the door closed. 

You hated to use Reiner this way — even if he didn’t mind it. 

It wasn’t fair to him.

But you had no other option. 

You didn’t know Annie well enough to burden her with this. Jean was too busy with his own recovery. Luckily, Jean was back at his own place, being looked after by hired help. 

Being around Reiner had instantly overwhelmed you with comfort. His aura alone was soothing. The way he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes had created the delusion that, perhaps, everything would be okay someday.

Reiner was silent for the first few minutes. Then, as he made a right turn, he asked that haunting question: “What happened?”

“Connie took all of my money. Made me realize that Levi hasn’t suffered as much as everyone else. When I asked him about it, he told me that Connie doesn’t bother him because Connie knows that Levi isn’t afraid to kill him and has evidence that can put him in prison. He said he hasn’t turned it in to the police because he figures Connie will just pay to get rid of it, which makes sense, but . . .”

“But what?” Reiner darted his eyes in your direction, then back at the road ahead. 

“Levi was in the position to do something about Connie. Even if turning in evidence failed, he still sat back and let everyone join CS Records. Fear is a powerful thing, and if Connie is really afraid of Levi and everything he could do, then Levi could have used that fear to get Connie to do anything — turn himself in, stop being a shitty person, anything. But he did nothing. He’s still doing nothing.”

Reiner knew you. He knew that right now, a lot of your anger wasn’t truly directed at Levi. The poor man was just being used as a punching bag, a way for you to avoid being angry with yourself for not protecting your finances from Connie. It was a way to not take in your new reality: you were poor and homeless yet again.

After all, one could blame Levi for not acting out against Connie’s behavior for whatever reason. 

But you were just as guilty.

Fear was a powerful tool, but so was love. 

If you weren’t blinded by his billionaire status, then, perhaps, you too could have done something about Connie. After all, you knew what kind of man you married.

But you didn’t do anything. 

Everyone else was guilty as well.

No one tried to stop Connie when they had the chance, beyond trying to free you from his grasp. Blame the contracts. Blame the fear of homelessness or death. Those were all valid excuses, but they were excuses, nevertheless. 

And now Armin was dead.

Maybe Levi should have been the one to go toe-to-toe with Connie. After all, if Connie was scared of him, then he had the biggest chance of surviving the chaos that would have ensued by trying to toss him in prison. Reiner couldn’t say. But he felt as if your anger was misplaced.

He wouldn’t admit it, though.

The last thing he wanted was for you to jump out of his car.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Reiner said gently, the nickname not holding any romantic implications, but rather, just a result of his southern nature.

“It’s not alright,” with a sniffle, you folded your arms across your chest. “He’s gonna get away with murdering Armin too. He’s gonna get away with everything.”

—

Reiner set you up in his homey guest room. Promised that you could stay as long as you wanted. But he wasn’t a fool. 

Your heart had moved on from him. 

It belonged to that dead baker in the ground.

Even so, he would be there for you no matter what.

Two weeks later, it was raining. Rarely had such weather occurred in L.A., but for the last few years, it rained more often. 

Your days consisted of sitting on the bay window bench in the beautiful, charming living room, sipping on warm beverages.

One day, you walked into the kitchen, smiled at Reiner, and said, “Your cappuccinos are amazing.”

Since then, a steaming hot cup of cappuccino was always waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

This morning wasn’t any different. You were greeted with your favorite hot drink as of late, and after getting dressed, you both headed to the hospital to visit Eren.

He was still hanging on. Still in a coma. Still teetering between life and death.

On this rainy day, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d see Levi as well. You hadn’t spoken since the day you yelled at him. The pained look on his face haunted you more than you would have liked to admit, it reappeared in your scattered mind whenever you tried to fall asleep at night. After spending those sleepless evenings lost in thought over what conspired between you both, you realized that you were out of line. 

Reiner didn’t want to admit it, but you could see the way his eyes shifted whenever you ranted about Levi during dinner. He chewed on his chicken alfredo and didn’t say a word, but it was obvious that he thought the same thing.

Everyone had done some things wrong. Everyone had done some things right.

Levi had reasons to be angry with you, such as trying to use his baby to trick another man into marrying you for greed and revenge. Even so, he never snapped at you. He didn’t speak to you the way you spoke to him.

But it didn’t matter anymore. You were poor. The world had started to forget about Armin’s murder. Eren’s condition hadn’t changed, so he was no longer appearing in headlines. Everyone had started to paint Connie Springer as innocent, and for the people who hadn’t, they didn’t care. Several billionaires have killed a person or two. Who cared about some random waiter?

In short, the world found other things to obsess over. 

It was tragic and peaceful at the same time. 

Arriving at the hospital, only a few paparazzi lurked outside of the entrance. Fans were still present as they screamed for you and Reiner.

And, both luckily and unfortunately, you didn’t see Levi in the waiting room.

“Hi honey,” Carla greeted you softly, wrapping her arms around you. 

“It’s good to see you,” with a gentle smile, you pulled away from her, and like you had done a thousand times, you asked, “How is he?”

“There are some positive signs,” Carla clenched the piece of tissue in her hand. “Why don’t you go see him?”

The positive signs that Carla had mentioned seemed nonexistent. When you walked into Eren’s room, nothing about the rockstar had changed. But there weren’t any nurses in his room right now. There wasn’t the thick aura of death. The machines hooked to his body didn’t sound so scary.

But he was still there, pale and thin, eyebrows furrowed with a tube down his throat and wires attached to his body. 

This time, you pulled up a chair to sit by Eren’s side. By now, you had gotten more comfortable with talking to him. 

“Hi, Eren. It’s Y/N,” you greeted. Gently, you pulled up on the collar of his hospital gown, straightening it out more. You stroked his forehead with your thumb, and let your fingers run through his hair. 

You didn’t see it, but a finger on Eren’s left hand twitched.

“Hair’s still amazing, don’t you worry. Your mom’s been combing it every day,” you said softly. “I’ve been drinking cappuccinos lately. It’s just one little thing I have to look forward to, you know what I mean? It makes me think about all the things waiting for you when you wake up. All the things you have left to look forward to. I know life has been shitty, but . . . your family’s still here. I’m still here. We aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to wake up, heal, and live a long life, okay? You’re going to be so happy, healthy, and free. We’ll all make sure of it. I’m going to sit here with you for a while — is that okay?”

You ran your thumb across Eren’s eyebrow. Even like this, he was still so beautiful.

Perhaps, the entire world would have been more eager to throw Connie in prison if he had ruined Eren’s face.

Leaning out of your seat a bit, you planted a kiss on Eren’s forehead. 

“I love you, Eren.”

Eren’s finger twitched again.

Thirty minutes had passed. During that time, you sat with Eren, talked to him, and even read him a few pieces of dialogue from a play you were writing in your spare time. It was nothing more than a few printed-out sheets of paper inside of a flimsy folder.

As you scanned over the written stage directions, you flipped the page, mumbling about details you needed to change in certain scenes.

You didn’t notice that Eren had slightly opened his eyes until his body jerked and the nearby machines started beeping.

“What the hell?” Your eyes widened. A nurse grabbed your shoulders, ushering you out of the room as another one grabbed your chair.

Unfamiliar medical terms were exchanged, but from the hallway, you watched as Eren’s body continued to jerk. It must have been the tube down his throat, as they seemed to work quickly to remove it.

More doctors and nurses rushed into his room. More machines continued to beep. 

Holding your folder against your chest, your arms started to shake.

Tears started to fall like clockwork, but this time, they were from utter happiness, as Eren was starting to wake up.

—

The following week was a blur — a beautiful, confusing blur.

“As an actor,” Reiner paused, holding your hand comfortingly as you both sat in the waiting room. “I’ve seen my fair share of storylines involving comas. Television usually gets it wrong, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a polite whisper. “Either way, I’m happy. I can’t wait to see him . . . see him and have him actually respond to me.”

You knew exactly what Reiner was referring to. In movies and shows, patients often awakened from comas and were immediately responsive. You recalled seeing Reiner partake in having to play the heartbroken spouse on the other end of that sappy storyline once.

But, in reality, it took Eren a while to come around. Recovery wasn’t easy.

He had to get the hang of walking again, and other basic skills. Therapy, for both his mental and physical state, consumed his entire hospital stay.

For the first few days, he was utterly confused, and needed time to piece together what had happened to him. According to Carla, he remembered getting shot by Connie.

He remembered everything after a while.

The doctor didn’t want anyone aside from Eren’s parents visiting him during the start of his recovery. 

But now, you could see him.

He was in a different room this time. It was a proper one with a door, free from the symbolic afterlife advertisements and the aura of death.

This was a room that belonged to someone who was expected to live.

You knocked gently, then opened the door.

And there he was.

Only a week had passed, and yet, he looked better. Some color had returned to his soft skin. He looked as healthy as a person who had been shot and survived being in a coma for weeks could look.

What made you smile tearfully was that when you saw him this time, he was looking back at you.

Those piercing, gorgeous emerald eyes locked with yours. 

And he smiled beautifully.

“Eren,” his name slipped from between your lips.

You rushed over to where he sat in his wheelchair — he was undoubtedly sick of laying down, but not well enough to constantly move around just yet — and you leaned down and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry,” your hands were lost in his hair. You felt him weakly hug you back.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, oh my god, Eren. I thought you were gonna die.”

Pulling away from Eren, you couldn’t help but cup his face and kiss his forehead. Truly, you didn’t want to overwhelm him, but you just had to kiss his cheeks as well. And his nose. 

He might have been a badass rockstar, but your kisses made him blush.

After showering his face with affection, you sat down on the side of his bed. He was holding on to a big refillable water bottle. His portable I.V. pole was next to his wheelchair. He had yellow socks on his feet. The furthest corner of his enormous hospital room was filled with get-well gifts, cards, flowers, and balloons, including your own presents that you had dropped off earlier in the week, even though you couldn’t give it to him directly at the time. On the television, the action-comedy film Rush Hour was playing. He must have been watching it before you came in.

All of those little details you had noticed made you grin, simply because it meant one thing: Eren Yeager was alive.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, noticing that he hadn’t yet said anything to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m . . . o-kay.”

The sudden heartache you felt sent waves of pain through your chest and down to your fingertips. 

He sounded unrecognizable.

It made sense.

He hadn’t spoken in weeks. His throat was also swollen from having a tube wedged down it for so long.

“Good. I’m glad,” you gave him a sad, soft smile. 

Eren’s eyes scanned over you. A look of worry flashed across his face. You seemed different, but that was understandable. 

He had heard about everything that was going on. 

Connie’s disappearance. Jean’s punishment. Your fight with Levi. Staying with Reiner. Your lack of funds. Armin’s death. 

His mother held him while he cried a few nights ago after learning that he had survived, but not his best friend. “I know, baby,” his mom whispered repeatedly, holding her son in his hospital bed as sobbed, wishing he could somehow trade his life for Armin’s.

And he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

Although it hurt to speak, he had to ask.

“You . . . o-okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” you gave a wave of your hand. “I’ll be fine.” 

Eren could see the sadness in your eyes, and not just from everything you were going through, but because you had walked in here with the hopes of listening to Eren run his mouth, only to discover that he could barely speak.

So, instead, he reached out, grabbed your hand, and ran his thumb across your knuckles.

Grabbing his hand, you suddenly raised it to your lips and kissed the spot below where his fingers were missing.

Seeing you make such a loving gesture both warmed Eren’s heart and snapped it into pieces. 

He looked at you with the softest, most loving eyes. 

If only he hadn’t let go of you way back then. If only he didn’t toss his ring and let Connie intimidate him into divorcing you.

If only.

Eren pulled his hand away from you. He stroked your cheek with his thumb. He tapped your nose with his pinky finger. Ruffled your hair a bit. Touched you in any way he could to communicate when speaking wasn’t the best option. It was his way of reminding you that this visit wasn’t the same as the previous ones. He might not have been talkative, but unlike when he was in his coma, he could look at you. Hear you. See you. Touch you.

Soon enough, you laughed. What a lovely sound — it always was.

“I heard you tried to throw a cup at your doctor once you found out he told us you only had two hours to live,” with a playful smirk, you jabbed at his cheek a bit with your finger. 

Eren nodded proudly.

‘That asshole scared everyone I loved,’ Eren thought.

Suddenly, your smile faded. Eren’s grin quickly diminished as well, and he looked at you with great concern.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking . . . I’m worried.” With a pause you carefully considered whether or not you should express your haunting thought. But it had to be something Eren was worried about as well.

“What if Connie comes back and finishes the job?”

Eren’s face of concern changed into anger at the mention of Connie’s name. Eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched — hearing the name of the bastard who shot him and killed his friend had flipped a switch within him.

But, truthfully, even if Eren could talk normally right now, he still would have met your question with silence.

What would he do, exactly?

As many times as Eren thought he had to courage to take the man’s life, he secretly accepted that he wasn’t that cold-hearted. He couldn’t kill someone, especially an old friend he had grown up with. Someone he would have died for.

Sometimes, he still saw that funny, idiotic teenager who liked to mix all of his food together during lunch and cherished his friend group. Never could he fully accept that the Connie he once knew was gone forever, replaced by a monster who only cared about money and power.

A monster who tried to kill him.

The corners of Eren’s mouth fell into a frown. He looked down at the white floor beneath him. 

“I guess that’s something we should worry about later, huh? Your recovery comes first. He won’t touch you while you’re in here.” Your smile was comforting, but it wasn’t convincing.

After all, this could have been the easiest way to kill Eren.

Connie could hire someone, get them to pretend to be a nurse, enter his room, and shove a pillow over his face until he suffocated.

No one would question his death if he died at the hospital. Especially when the doctors were certain he’d die a long time ago.

“Hey, I have an idea,” you said. “Why don’t we head down to the cafeteria? They have ice cream down there.”

Instantly, Eren grabbed the pole to his transportable I.V. on wheels, indicating that he was ready to go. 

You got up, grabbed the handles of his wheelchair, and started to push him out of his room.

“I don’t even know if I’m allowed to do this, but I’m gonna do it anyway.”

Reaching back with the hand that wasn’t holding on to the rolling I.V. pole, he touched your hand as a way of saying thanks.

Making your way down to the cafeteria was an easy journey for the most part. By now, the nurses and doctors who worked in the hospital had gotten used to seeing you, Eren, and other celebrities roaming the halls. 

But the group of fans gathered outside of the entrance lost their minds when they saw that familiar head of brown hair. 

Their muffled screams were startling. Some of them started to cry. They banged on the seethrough doors, either trying to get inside or catch Eren’s attention, you couldn’t be certain. As you rolled him by, he gave his fans a casual wave. 

That only made them scream even louder. 

Silence arrived once you pushed Eren out of their view and rolled him down a hallway decorated with modern, colorful contemporary art, contrasting against the white walls and floors pleasantly  — rather nice for such a depressing place.

“Wanna play U.N.O later? I have the cards in my purse.” 

Eren could hear the casual excitement in your voice. Of course, you brought U.N.O cards. You loved that game, even if you tried to create your own rules.

At the sight of Eren’s nod, you said, “Great! It’ll be fun. I won’t change the rules this time-”

Suddenly, your footsteps came to a halt.

At the end of the hallway, Levi appeared.

Eren waved at him. Levi smiled, but it quickly diminished when his eyes darted up to you.

The man who was typically sharply dressed looked rather disheveled. Black hair was messy, longer than it typically was, and the dark circles under his eyes made it clear he hadn’t been getting enough sleep. He wore a grey long-sleeved hood and a pair of jeans. His phone was in his right hand, and he tapped it with his thumb, ending a phone call, more than likely. In his left hand, he carried a thermal bag. It must have been food for Eren’s parents.

Turning his head around in his wheelchair, Eren looked back at you, then faced forward to look at Levi.

Oh, how awkward it was. 

A wave of heat ran through your body. Pure shame and utter embarrassment. But turning around would have made it worse. So, you pushed Eren right past Levi as you mumbled, “Excuse me.”

—

The rest of the day was spent in Eren’s company. Eating ice cream, playing U.N.O, and watching the rest of Rush Hour made you forget your own troubles for just a few hours.

The rockstar didn’t want to admit it because he didn’t want you to leave, but he was exhausted. You could tell based on his tired eyes and sleepy grin.

So, you let him rest, telling him goodbye and kissing his forehead gently after helping him back into his bed.

Returning to the waiting room, you overheard Carla and Grisha discussing having two bodyguards standing outside of Eren’s door for his safety. After hugging them goodbye, you went down to one of the more private exits of the hospital and stood outside underneath the carport-like shade. You hadn’t called Reiner just yet. He was a busy man, one who still had a career to worry about, and he had clocked in for a sixteen-hour shift on yet another film set after making sure you were able to visit Eren. 

But he promised that he’d send a driver out to pick you up and take you back to his house once you were ready to leave. All you had to do was send a text message.

However, a lump of guilt formed in your throat, preventing you from doing so. 

Reiner never made you feel like a bother. He welcomed you back into his home — back into his life with open arms, even as a friend.

Although you could see the glisten of hurt behind his kindhearted gaze because your heart no longer belonged to him, he never did anything for you because he expected some kind of love or favor in return.

But your lack of independence was starting to get to you.

Never — not once in your entire life — had you truly been independent. 

Maybe for about a year at most, but aside from that, someone had always cared for you, whether it was with diamonds and fine dining or pennies and sandwiches.

So, you didn’t text Reiner. You put your phone back into your purse, unsure of what to do.

That’s when you noticed Levi walking out of the door. Once again, he was ending a phone call. 

Who exactly was he always on the phone with?

This time around, encountering Levi was far more awkward. It was just the two of you, standing outside, alone in the dark, listening to the gentle raindrops splatter onto the ground. 

Levi started to turn around and head back inside, but the sound of your voice made his footsteps halt.

“Wait,” you said. “Don’t leave.”

Levi didn’t move.

“I’m sorry, Levi. I was out of line the other day.”

He turned to face you. Staring at his unreadable expression, you wished that, just once, you knew what he was thinking. 

“That’s your apology?” Levi’s sudden frown was a mix of both sadness and anger. “After everything you accused me of . . . everything you said to me . . . that’s the best you can do?”

Your shameful gaze dropped down to your feet, briefly staring at the concrete ground before looking back up into his eyes.

“I was upset. I was going through a lot and I wanted someone to blame. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, especially after everything you’ve done for me when you didn’t have to lift a finger. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person. I of all people know how difficult it is to break free from someone like Connie . . . to pick wanting money over doing the right thing . . . and . . . I’m just sorry.”

The rain started to pour harder. It filled the silence until, after a moment, Levi started to speak.

“I forgive you. You weren’t entirely wrong, either. I should have done more, and I should have done it years ago. I was never the kind of person who’d let people get hurt as long as it benefitted me, and how I became this way, I don’t know. I’m sorry too.”

“I understand,” you said. The smile that appeared across your face had erased any remaining aggravation that Levi might have felt in his heart. “Believe me, I get it. I don’t know much about your past, but I know you know what poverty feels like, right? I mean, most people don’t understand how far someone will go to avoid being homeless and starved. That’s where me and you are kinda similar, you know? Along with that, you said you had been collecting evidence since the beginning, right? You might not have done anything with it yet, but . . . in my opinion, it means that you didn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

Connie wasn’t always as cruel as he was now — a simple, yet important fact that was often overlooked by his latest actions. Once upon a time, he was just a ruthless entrepreneur with life-altering contracts. Still a shitty human being, but it was better than who he was now — a murderer. Imprisoner. Torturer.

That came once you got involved with his life and label. 

And that was when Levi, and everyone else, hit their limit. 

Your words made it difficult for Levi to make eye contact with you. He wasn’t shy by nature, nor someone who was easily made to feel anxious or nervous — an effect he had on others — but hearing you say those words, especially after your argument, was touching. 

But nothing could ease his guilt. It was a burden he’d live with forever, something he wasn’t certain he could learn to forgive himself for even after a lifetime of therapy. 

Not until Connie was behind bars or six feet under, at least.

“Y/N, did you really think I took care of you to ease my guilt?”

With a light shrug, you mumbled, “I’d be lying if I said I knew why you did anything, Levi.”

“Really?” Levi smiled sadly. His voice was soft as he spoke. “Are you being serious? I let you sleep in my house. I bought all of your favorite snacks in bulk. The only time I’ve ever tried to fight against Connie was for you. Everything I’ve done . . . you mean to tell me you don’t realize that I love you?”

There it was. That beautiful confession. One that made you want to smile and cry at the same time. 

“Finally. I love you too.” With glassy eyes and a soft grin, you breathlessly said, “Well, it took you so long to say it first, no wonder I didn’t piece it together. I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Suddenly, as that last word rolled off of his tongue, Levi stepped forward, cupped your cheeks, and pressed his lips against yours.

He didn’t care who might have been watching. He didn’t care if you were an infamous heartbreaker. He moved his lips against yours passionately without any regret. And — god, he could feel your lips wanting to spread into a smile as you kissed him back. 

It was the kind of kiss that made him mourn what could have been. 

He thought about you both losing your baby more than he let on.

And he thought about what his life might have been like if Connie never imprisoned you. If the seed of revenge was never planted within you.

Would you have told him the truth? Would the two of you have had a family, perhaps? Some sort of happy ending? Was it too late to try again?

When Levi pulled away from the kiss, it was only because he needed to breathe. Damn the human body for needing oxygen during such a sweet, cherishable moment. 

As badly as Levi wanted to take you home and toss you across his bed, he couldn’t. 

Not yet.

The last thing he wanted your relationship to amount to was friends with benefits.

You both almost had a child, and yet, he hadn’t even taken you out on a proper date.

Levi’s eyes darted down at his black shoes. He couldn’t see it, but the sight of his cheeks becoming a faint shade of pink and his flickering eyes made you smile even harder than before. Underneath his intimidating and cold personality, he was rather adorable.

“Are you busy tonight?” Levi questioned. He subtly cleared his throat, attempting to play off his sudden awkwardness. “If not, we should go somewhere.”

“On a date?” “Yes. On a date.”

—

Levi was a classy man. Call him old-fashioned, but he preferred the ways of greeting his date with flowers, wearing dresses and suits, fine dining at gourmet restaurants, and being the perfect gentleman. 

But tonight would have to go differently.

After all, you were both giving each other the silent treatment several minutes ago. Now, you were sitting in his car, getting ready to have a late dinner with him.

Half of him had wished that he asked you out tomorrow night instead, giving him time to prepare, but, truth be told, there was something charming about being this spontaneous. 

As he drove down the streets of Los Angeles, struggling to concentrate on the road because he wanted to keep staring at your cute grin — which made him smile too — he wasn’t sure where to take you tonight.

It wasn’t easy. After all, you were both dressed appropriately to visit someone in the hospital, not to go dining at a five-star restaurant amongst other celebrities and rich citizens. 

But, if you went to cheaper, less impressive dining places where your outfits would have been fine, you both would certainly be bombarded by paparazzi and fans who weren’t used to seeing celebrities walk into such common eateries. 

Even so, he was certain you would have preferred to eat at one of the more sophisticated restaurants in town. Levi had opened his mouth to suggest you both go somewhere for a quick wardrobe change so he could properly treat you to a classic steak and lobster dinner, a meal you had rambled about often in the past, but before he could speak, you sat up, staring out of the passenger seat window. 

“Oh, wait, wait, Levi, let’s eat there!”

It was a diner. A tiny, twenty-four-hour restaurant that undoubtedly served bottomless coffee, greasy food, and had an interior that hadn’t been remodeled since the 1970’s. 

It was the same place Levi picked you up from a while ago.

Pulling into the parking lot, Levi could see that the family-owned diner was being run by a chubby old man wiping down a table, who looked like he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Despite living in the heart of all things film and music-related, the man didn’t seem like someone who would recognize you and Levi. Or, if he did, he wouldn’t care. All he cared about was serving his customers delicious food and making sure their bellies were full, no matter who they were.

From what Levi could tell, only one or two customers were in the diner. A younger girl who looked like a runaway, and another old man who was looking forward to completing a crossword puzzle in the morning. 

“I know it’s not . . .” you paused, thinking of the appropriate word. “I know it’s not fancy, but I don’t know. I saw this place the other day, and I really wanted to go inside. The food smelled really good.”

“Then let’s go inside, hm?” Levi smiled softly. He had never smiled so much in one day before.

Excitedly, you swung your passenger door open, and Levi had to grab your arm. “Wait, slow down,” he was rather amused at your impatience. 

“What? What’s wrong?” You frowned. 

Levi opened his center console and pulled out a hat. He tugged it on your head before pulling his own gray hood up. 

Everyone could still see your faces, but maybe the hats and hoods would help against any strollers who might pass by the diner, glance through the window, and see your familiar head shape.

—

Just as Levi had predicted, the old man treated you both like human beings.

The other old man in the diner hadn’t even glanced over to see who entered, as Jeopardy! was playing on the television hanging on the wall, and it held his attention like a moth drawn to a flame. 

However, the young runaway — a brunette teenage girl with the tips of her hair dyed bright purple — didn’t recognize Levi, but she knew who you were. After all, she owned a physical copy of the latest album created by Eldian Devils and a Jean Kirstein t-shirt — a black top with a white line drawing of his lazily cupped hands. His fans adored his hands as much as he did.

Two days ago, she watched your movie, A Game of Darkness, through Netflix on her cell phone as she waited at the bus stop.

But she didn’t bother you. She didn’t freak out.

Instead, she smiled kindly, removed her hand from the pocket of her jean jacket, and waved.

When you waved back, her smile brightened, and she went right back to eating her stack of pancakes.

The Classic. That’s what you had ordered; a burger and fries combo complete with a milkshake you shared with Levi.

Levi had ordered a sandwich with tater tots, but that didn’t stop him from stealing a french fry off of your plate.

Playfully, you swatted at his hand.

“Excuse you,” you said with a grin. “I bet if I took a bite of your sandwich, you’d start scoffing at me.”

“You can take a bite, I don’t care. The problem is that you’d unhinge your jaw and take the biggest bite possible,” grabbing two tater tots off of his plate, he put them on yours. “There. Now we’re even.” 

“One fry equals two tater tots?” You questioned. 

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re smaller.” 

“But they’re wider.” 

“Fine then,” with a small grin, Levi stole another one of your fries. 

You giggled a bit — a sound that would forever make Levi fall in love with you just a bit more. It seemed as if being in the diner had made you forget all your troubles, even just for a little while.

With your hand placed over the circular bottom of the vanilla milkshake in an old-fashioned glass, served with whipped cream and a cherry on top, you slowly slid it across the table to Levi’s side after taking a sip. 

“I’m giving you permission to steal another french fry from me, but you have to dip it in the milkshake.” 

“What for?” 

Dipping your own fry into the creamy dessert, you said, “I had a feeling you never tried it before.” 

“Got that right. I don’t look at a french fry and think, hey, this could really use some frozen sweet milk,” Levi's teasing tone made you tap his leg with your foot underneath the table, kicking him jokingly. 

“Maybe you’d be less grumpy now if you had tried it growing up.” Nodding in the direction of the milkshake, you bit into your own ice cream covered french fry. “Try it.”

Hesitantly, he grabbed another fry — pausing to put two more of his tater tots on your plate — and he dipped the fried potato into the milkshake, careful not to make any of the white, cold mixture spill out of the glass cup.

He took a bite. He raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise for a second, then, he tried to play it off by looking away, avoiding the sight of your amused smirk.

“You like it! I can tell,” you beamed. 

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can!”

Your lighthearted bickering session continued throughout your little date. After debating over the french fry and milkshake combination, you had challenged Levi to see who could tie a knot with the stem of the cherry from your milkshake using their tongue — the ultimate test of a good kisser.

It was endearing to see you this way. 

Watching you cover your mouth with your hand to hold back your loud but enduring laughter so as to not bother the other guests. Listening to you ramble on and on about different topics, such as why french fries should have been considered gourmet food, and at one point, you even told him about your play. He could see the passion in your eyes — the shy nature of sharing something that meant so much to you. Neither the topic of music nor acting had ever made your eyes sparkle like they were now.

And he was honored that you felt comfortable enough to tell him about your real passion: writing.

At one point, hours later, you and Levi had both sat in the diner for so long, that the owner had gone home and his daughter took over for her shift. The other guests had left too, and according to Levi’s watch, it was around midnight.

But neither you nor Levi had grown bored of being in each other’s presence for long. 

Not only had you shared your passions with Levi, but he started to open up as well. 

You asked him about his childhood.

He gave you as much detail as he could, even if he struggled to maintain eye contact as he did so.

He told the story of his beginnings as a boy without a father and a mother who was a sex worker. He touched on the topics of being raised and abandoned by his uncle, joining the military to combat poverty, and then helping out the boy whose parents adopted his cousin form a proper band, and assisting that boy’s friend with the launch of his record label.

When he brought up Hange and Erwin, his two best friends, he smiled.

Once you and Levi eventually left the diner after getting lost in time, he dropped you off at Reiner’s house.

It was drastically different from his own — not necessarily in terms of size, as the place was huge, making it obvious that the man wanted to have a lot of kids someday or intended for his relatives to stay over often — but his home looked like someone plucked a mansion out of the suburbs somewhere in the south and put it in the middle of Los Angeles.

The memory of seeing Reiner star in one of those house-building shows on HGTV several years ago suddenly appeared in Levi’s mind. He remembered skipping through the commercials about it. 

But it all made sense. Reiner probably had his home built specifically for him and his Tennessee-like, big family-seeking needs.

There were so many things he wanted to say before you got out of his car, shut the passenger door, and walked through Reiner’s front door. 

He wanted to tell you that you could live with him again if you wanted. He wanted to ask you out again and plan your next date immediately. He wanted . . . everything with you. 

But for now, he didn’t say a word.

—

— NEARLY TWO WEEKS LATER —

For the most part, your days consisted of the same routine.

Reiner would drop you off at the hospital to visit Eren. Levi would pick you up some nights, and you’d spend time together, going on brief walks in areas deemed as safe from prying eyes and pointed guns, and occasionally, you’d both stop by that lovely diner. 

You both made it a goal to try everything on the menu at least once. The old man beamed adorably whenever the bell above the door would ring, and he’d see you both walk in. You and Levi reminded him of his youthful days when he too was in love with someone. 

After your evenings out, Levi would drop you off at Reiner’s house, leaving the blonde-haired man conflicted, as he was happy to see you smiling again, but heartbroken that he wasn’t the cause of it. 

There was no greater misery than being roommates with someone you were once married to.

On an ordinary Thursday afternoon, you found yourself in Eren’s hospital room once again. His recovery was quite extraordinary. He could function like a regular person. Within the next few days, he would finally be allowed to go home. 

“Erennn,” you called out with a bit of a whine, shoes clicking against the mopped floor as you rushed over to his big window and pulled the curtains open, letting the pretty afternoon sun cast its colorful orange and yellow rays into his room. “You have the nicest view in the entire hospital. You should open your curtains more often. Just look at the sky.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Eren said curiously, his sharp eyes watching you as he sat in his chair. He moved the acoustic guitar from his lap and leaned it against the wall. Trying to play it only reminded him of what he lost — two of his fingers and a friend. 

“Is it ‘cause of Levi?”

Growing up, Eren had always been told several facts about his face — that it was perfect. Beautiful, according to science. Even now, the golden sunlight shined upon his gorgeous face, and it made him look like a god had spent an incredible amount of time crafting him. But, he had also been told that he was quite expressive as well, unable to hide even the slightest displeasure.

Everyone could always tell when he was pissed off, irritated, happy, or upset.

During those moments when he wasn’t glaring at someone with utter hatred, he, oddly enough, had a love stare as well. 

Where most people had blank or neutral expressions while interacting with others, Eren tended to stare at the ones he cared for like he was madly in love with them — he couldn’t help it.

It drove his fans crazy too. The way he’d look at every fan as if they were his soulmate, and they would blush and giggle.

And when he looked at you, well, his eyes would soften then too. But there was no mistaking that the love glistening within his gaze was real.

That’s how he was looking at you now. With that love stare.

But there was something else flickering in his eyes as well.

Jealousy and pain.

“How’d you hear about that?” You questioned, walking over to sit on his hospital bed — a bed he absolutely despised because laying down was his least favorite thing to do in such a creepy place.

“Reiner told me.” Eren shrugged. “I don’t think he meant to, but I couldn’t speak well, so he was running his mouth to try to fill the silence. You know how many people do that? They start rambling when it gets too quiet. I know so many secrets now, like my aunt Beth — you remember her, right? — well, she believed in Santa Claus until she was fourteen. Oh, and my mom never made homemade marinara sauce growing up. It was store-bought. She lied. But anyway, yeah. Reiner told me.”

“Oh,” with a gentle smile, you said, “Well, it’s not like I was trying to keep it a secret. I just didn’t know if there was anything to tell. Me and Levi aren’t . . . we don’t have any sort of title. With me still trying to get a divorce, and everything going on . . . I just don’t want to worry too much about romance right now, you know what I mean? All I know is that I like our little dates. It’s a good distraction from . . . everything else.”

Feeling his heart shatter into pieces was almost as painful as getting shot in the chest.

“He’s fucking lucky,” Eren mumbled, frowning a bit. “I’m happy you’re happy, it’s nice to see you smile, but I’m not giving up on you just yet.” 

With a little laugh, you shook your head.

“Eren, you’re worried about the wrong thing. Now isn’t the time for you to be jealous, okay?”

Eren turned his head away from you. Truthfully, the sight of his jealousy-driven antics made your heart skip a beat — the very heart that Eren would always have a place in, even if he didn’t own it.

“Eren,” you called out once again, leaning to the right until your elbow was pressed against the mattress. “Can you look at me please?”

He didn’t mean to act like a child. Truly, he didn’t. He hated himself for it. Armin had just died. You were in the middle of trying to divorce a monster. You were dealing with financial troubles and a lack of privacy from the rest of the world.

The last thing he wanted was to make you feel guilty over being around someone who made you forget your troubles, even for a couple of hours every night, especially when he was genuinely happy for you.

But he couldn’t help it.

He had his fair share of past relationships, hookups, and regrets. At one point, Hollywood could have given him the infamous heartbreaker title, just as they did you. 

But everything changed when he fell in love with you. No longer was he that rebellious rockstar who fucked supermodels and didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself. 

He was now the kind of person who found himself blushing when you stared into his eyes. The kind of person who’d both kill and die for you. The kind of person who would do anything you wanted.

And he ruined it by both letting you go and pushing you away.

“I wish I never let that assrat force me into divorcing you,” Eren glared at the floor. “I wanted us to go to therapy — did you know that?”

“Yeah. I did. Connie made you leave me.” 

You recalled the memory of you, long ago, begging Eren to stay with you after you cheated on him with Jean.  

What a time.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You tried again. “Please don’t be jealous.”

After your plea didn’t work, you took matters into your own hands. You leaned off of the bed, grabbed the arms of his wheelchair, and rolled him over toward you. Still, he tried to avoid your gaze, but it was rather difficult with you being so close. 

“Eren, if you don’t look at me, I swear on my mom that I’ll . . .” you paused, pursing your lips. “Okay, I can’t think of anything, so can you just look at me?”

He couldn’t hide his laughter, nor did he want to. 

But, finally, his eyes made contact with yours.

“About time,” you smiled. 

“Why did me not looking at you bother you so much? I don’t get it.”

“Because I thought you were going to die, so . . . I guess I like to look at you as much as I can now. I couldn’t see your eyes for weeks, remember? And losing you would ruin me in ways I can’t even say.”

Your mind drifted back to that night at the bridge.

“Y/N,” Eren ran his hand over his face. For a second, you thought he knew about your dark day, and your heart skipped a beat once again, this time in utter panic.

“You can’t say shit like that to me,” Eren groaned. “How can you tell me not to be jealous and then say-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” interrupting him, you reached forward, grabbing his jaw gently, and rather playfully. “We’re not gonna talk about any of that right now, okay? There are more important things to focus on. For example, you could be getting discharged in a few days, which is a really big deal for a lot of reasons, and your safety is the top priority. You’re gonna have to put up with plenty of bodyguards for now, but it won’t be so bad. I’ll be around to help you out. So will your family, of course.”

“Fine,” Eren mumbled, but then, he suddenly grinned — as best as he could with your fingers pressing into his cheeks, at least. “What do you wanna do today, then? I can kick your ass at U.N.O, we can watch a movie-”

“Kick my ass?” You moved his head back and forth before releasing your grip on his jaw. “Since when?”

“Since before you started cheating. You shuffle the deck in a way that gives you all the draw fours, and I think you hide all the skip cards under your leg,” Eren was grinning even brighter than before. 

“Hush before I shuffle you.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Eren called out, laughing softly as you rose from your spot on the hospital bed to grab the deck of U.N.O cards from your purse. 

“It means I’ll give you an extended hospital stay.”

For a while, you and Eren proceeded to play cards and bicker until it was time for you to leave.

Tonight, you and Levi didn’t have any plans, but you had grown rather concerned when you checked your phone and saw that he hadn’t messaged you yet.

—

One day later, you and Levi found yourselves standing outside of the private hospital exit once again after visiting Eren and the Yeager family. 

Levi had prepared baked chicken and a green bean casserole for them, as poor Carla didn’t have the time or the energy to cook nowadays.

As you waited for Reiner to arrive, you smiled at Levi, and he grinned back, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He spoke before you could question it.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.” With much intensity, Levi stared into your eyes. “Not here, though.”

Reiner’s expensive, dark green pick-up truck came into view, his car slowing to a complete stop.

When you didn’t hop in immediately, Reiner rolled down the passenger seat window.

“Hey Levi,” he greeted. He looked at him, then at you. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, um,” you stepped closer toward the rolled-down window. “Do you mind if Levi comes back to your place with us? He said he needs to talk. It’s really important.”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” Reiner smiled softly. 

Although, in his heart, he wanted to be your one and only, part of him was relieved to see that you and Levi had worked through your situation, only because if something had happened to himself at the hands of Connie, you’d have someone else to depend on.

—

It wasn’t long before the three of you were in Reiner’s living room. For extra privacy, Reiner asked his bodyguards to stand outside for a while.

Levi sat down in a chair across from the couch, which is where Reiner lounged, while you sprawled out on the bay window bench — your favorite spot in the entire world right now.

“What’s going on?” You asked Levi. “You’re worrying me.”

“I put a lot of thought into what you said, Y/N.” Levi shifted around in his seat. “The police don't care what you and Eren have to say, not when Connie’s making them rich. Every day, the situation dies down more and more, and soon enough, Connie won’t just get away with murder, but with everything he’s done to everyone. And he’ll keep doing it.”

“You’re right,” you mumbled. “He’s completely lost it, too. I’m worried he’ll come back and try to kill Eren again, or . . . any of us. That maybe he’ll change his mind about leaving me alive. We’re all living in fear.”

“What are you suggesting?” Reiner asked Levi, leaning forward until his arms were resting on his around his knees.

“We need to draw Connie out. I have a plan.” 

“What is it?” 

Levi looked over at you as you spoke. He looked you in the eye with that unreadable expression you’ve grown to both love and hate. Casually, he said, “We need to get married.”

♡ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

🎟: @consuming-karma @lilvampirina @okaystopwhore @chrollohearttags @nanamochii @bunny2612 @cupids-soul @crazychaoticizzy @ramonathinks @averysmolbear @seishirogf @6sakusa @levin4nami @chaotic-on-main @sad-darksoul @gwapbby @katestrophes @ventdavi154 @lovelyless-fiction @svftackerman @musegonemad @moonmalice @inciteterr0r @honeybleed @zeninsbitch @purple-milk24 @itzgabz22 @mooomuu @micafecitoconpan @beaniebanby @anonymousme23 @theitchbbbb @skit-brentfaiyaz @princessos-blog @elliesbabygirl @the-mrs-steve-harrington @kittenbabe00 @magictrump @hetalia-tumbler @hon3y-c0mb @bol0-de-morang0 @thisisketchy @yoongirecs @allofffmypeaches @sasha-glass @getwaves @deluluvibes @p3nislawd @emery-333

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: tardigrades

Last week on Wet Beast Wednesday I covered the largest animals to ever exist on our planet. This week I'm going to pull a full 180 and cover the smallest animals yet on this series. Meet the tardigrade, the internet's favorite micro-animal the is said to be basically immortal. How true is that? Let's see.

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tardigrade. It looks a lot like a potato with eight stubby legs tipped with long claws. At the front is a small, circular mouth. It has no other discernable features. In the background are bits of plant matter that look like seaweed at this scale. End ID)

The tardigrades are 1,300 known species (and probably a lot of unknown ones too) in the phylum Tardigrada. They are also part of the superphylum Ecdysozoa, which are animals that grow by molting their outer cuticles or exoskeletons. In particular, the tardigrades are believed to be a sister group of the arthropods, the group that contains crustaceans, insects, isopods, and a lot of other things. Tardigrades are truly tiny, the largest species reaching a whopping 1.5 millimeters in length, though most species reach no more than 0.5 mm. They have round, segmented bodies with four pairs of legs that end in either claws or suction discs. The body segments consist of a head, three body segments with a pair of legs each, and a caudal segment with the final pair of legs. The first three legs are used for movement while the final pair points backwards and is used for grabbing onto substrate. All of the body segments except for the final one correspond to segments found in the head section of insects. Tardigrades are missing many hox genes, genes that direct the body plan during development. Their ancestors may have had a body plan more similar to insects, but the loss of the hox genes has compressed them into walking heads with a bit of butt. The mouth is tubular and sucks in food. In the mouth are stylets, needle-like structures used to pierce food objects. Once food is drawn into the mouth, a structure called the buccopharyngeal apparatus activates. This is a combination of spines and muscle that acts like an inner jaw that pulls food into the digestive tract. The buccopharyngeal apparatus is distinct enough to be used as a major identifying feature between species. Tardigrades are translucent and many images you've seen of them have false color to show the details or are 3D models based on scanning electron microscope imagery of them. Tardigrades molt their exoskeletons multiple times (up to 12) during their lifecycle. Some species are unable to poop normally and instead all their waste is discarded during the molt. It was formerly believed that tardigrades could exchange genes with each other without mating, a process called horizontal gene transfer that is seen in bacteria, archaea, and other micro-organisms. It has since been discovered that while still capable of horizontal gene transfer, it is quite a bit rarer in tardigrades than we thought.

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tardigrade standing on a bit of plant matter. This one has a closed mouth with a ring of triangular tooth-like structures. It also has two simple eyes that look like black dots. End ID)

The name "tardigrade" means "slow walker", which is fitting as, despite their eight legs, tardigrades have a slow and awkward gait. This is the result of their legs being unjointed, only able to pivot at their connection to the body. Their gait has been compared to that of bears, hence why they are often called water bears and their discoverer, Johann August Ephraim Goeze, called them "kleiner wasserbär", meaning "little water bear". Tardigrades are found worldwide and have inhabited virtually every habitat, from the tops of mountains to the deep sea, from hot springs to the antarctic, from freshwater to saltwater. The one thing they have in common is a need to stay wet. Tardigrades can survive out of water as long as they can stay moist and are often found in mosses, hence another common name: moss piglets. The majority either eat plants or bacteria, but some will feed on smaller tardigrades or other micro-animals. Their famous survivability makes it easy for tardigrades or their eggs to be carried to new habitats by larger animals or other phenomena. Tardigrades are one of the first micro-animals to colonize a new habitat and they are a pioneer species, the first species to colonize a new environment and whose presence makes that environment fore suitable for other species to follow. Tardigrades are a major food source to other micro-animals and larger organisms. Most species have distinct males and females, though a few reproduce through parthenogenesis. In most cases, molting female will lay her eggs in her shed cuticle and males will them fertilize them. Other species have a form of internal reproduction. Males and females will court each other before mating and females will usually allow multiple males to fertilize her eggs. Female tardigrades are typically larger and more abundant than males. Eggs can take up to 14 days (species dependent) before hatching. All tardigrades of the same species have the exact same number of cells as each other. They are also born with the same number of cells they will have as an adult. Their growth is driven by enlargement of the existing cells rather than cellular reproduction making new cells. The lifespan ranges between a few months to a few years, depending on species.

(Image: a color photo of a tardigrade. It is a pale, translucent white, making it hard to make out details. Its body is curved, with the front end pointing at the camera. It has two simple eyes. End ID)

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tardigrade egg. It is round but covered in small pores and conical structures. End ID)

The most famous feature of tardigrades is their legendary durability. It is commonly said that tardigrades can survive just about anything (except for the things that are actually trying to kill them. They are prey to a lot of species after all). Among the things they can survive is extreme heat, extreme cold, dehydration, extremely high and low pressure, exposure to ionizing radiation (that's the scary kind), low oxygen environments, environmental toxins, heavy impacts, and the vacuum of fucking space. While the can survive in extreme conditions, tardigrades are not considered extremophiles. True extremophiles thrive in extreme environments and are negatively impacted by leaving them. Tardigrades can survive in extreme environments, but are negatively impacted and can't survive as well there as they can in less extreme places. The main trait that has allowed tardigrades to survive all five mass extinctions in history is cryptobiosis. Cryptobiosis is the rare ability for an animal to enter a state of dormancy where their metabolic processes come to an almost complete stop. While in cryptobiosis, metabolic activity drops to 0.01% normal and water content drops to 1% normal. In this state, the tardigrade is called a tun. Tardigrades usually enter cryptobiosis in response to arid conditions. One experiment showed that a species of tardigrade could last for at least 30 years in this state and return to normal lifestyle functions when exposed to water. Tardigrades will also enter cryptobiosis in response to low oxygen, toxic chemical exposure, increased or decreased temperature, and excessive salt content in the water. Tardigrades also show extreme resistance to both high and low pressure. They can live in 0 atmospheres of pressure and some species can survive up to 6,000 atmospheres, more than double the pressure at the bottom of the Marianas trench. More interesting is their ability to survive dangerous radiation. They can survive 1,000 times the dose of gamma radiation that humans can. Early tests focused on tardigrades in cryptobiosis and concluded that the extremely low water content of a cryptobiotic tardigrade doesn't leave much opportunity for the radiation to react with the animal. However it was later found that active and fully hydrated tardigrades are still considerably resistant to radiation. Studies into this resistance indicate that tardigrades can very efficiently repair damaged DNA and have unique proteins called Dsup that provides additional protection. Dsup introduced to human cells has provided additional protection against x-rays.

(Image: an electron microscope image of a tun - a tardigrade in cryptobiosis. It is smaller and very wrinkly, with the legs and mouth retracted into the body. End ID)

Tardigrades were the first animals to be exposed to the vacuum of space. They were exposed for 10 days, some in a state of cryptobiosis at the time of exposure and some still active. It was found that they were able to survive the vacuum when shielded from the sun's ultraviolet radiation, with those already in cryptobiosis doing better. Upon being rehydrated, many were able to resume normal life functions and successfully reproduce, though others died after being rehydrated. Those that were exposed to UV radiation fared much worse, with only a few hydrated individuals surviving. The individuals in cryptobiosis had a lower survival rate when exposed to UV than those not exposed to UV and were less successful at reproducing afterwards. Studies of tardigrade's space survival abilities and resistance to radiation could go a long way in helping human space travel. One of the largest dangers of space travel is that space is full of nasty radiation from the sun that Earth's magnetic field protects us from. Some scientists speculate about the possibility of accidentally seeding other planets or moons with tardigrades or other space-resistant organisms. This is a problem because introducing Earth life to other world has the potential to damage any native ecosystems and if we find life in space in the future we don't want to have to figure out if it's something we accidentally put there. While tardigrades could likely survive on other planets, they would eventually die without a food source. Some sources reported that tardigrades may have colonized the moon after an experiment with them crashed. Unfortunately, the moon is not crawling with tardigrades now. It's way too dry for them to exit cryptobiosis even if they survived the crash, which they probably didn't.

(Image: art of a tardigrade floating in the vacuum of space. End ID. Source: University of California - Santa Barbara)

[smellslikebot]

"how do I keep my art from being scraped for AI from now on?"

if you post images online, there's no 100% guaranteed way to prevent this, and you can probably assume that there's no need to remove/edit existing content. you might contest this as a matter of data privacy and workers' rights, but you might also be looking for smaller, more immediate actions to take.

...so I made this list! I can't vouch for the effectiveness of all of these, but I wanted to compile as many options as possible so you can decide what's best for you.

Discouraging data scraping and "opting out"

robots.txt - This is a file placed in a website's home directory to "ask" web crawlers not to access certain parts of a site. If you have your own website, you can edit this yourself, or you can check which crawlers a site disallows by adding /robots.txt at the end of the URL. This article has instructions for blocking some bots that scrape data for AI.

HTML metadata - DeviantArt (i know) has proposed the "noai" and "noimageai" meta tags for opting images out of machine learning datasets, while Mojeek proposed "noml". To use all three, you'd put the following in your webpages' headers:

<meta name="robots" content="noai, noimageai, noml">

Have I Been Trained? - A tool by Spawning to search for images in the LAION-5B and LAION-400M datasets and opt your images and web domain out of future model training. Spawning claims that Stability AI and Hugging Face have agreed to respect these opt-outs. Try searching for usernames!

Kudurru - A tool by Spawning (currently a Wordpress plugin) in closed beta that purportedly blocks/redirects AI scrapers from your website. I don't know much about how this one works.

ai.txt - Similar to robots.txt. A new type of permissions file for AI training proposed by Spawning.

ArtShield Watermarker - Web-based tool to add Stable Diffusion's "invisible watermark" to images, which may cause an image to be recognized as AI-generated and excluded from data scraping and/or model training. Source available on GitHub. Doesn't seem to have updated/posted on social media since last year.

Image processing... things

these are popular now, but there seems to be some confusion regarding the goal of these tools; these aren't meant to "kill" AI art, and they won't affect existing models. they won't magically guarantee full protection, so you probably shouldn't loudly announce that you're using them to try to bait AI users into responding

Glaze - UChicago's tool to add "adversarial noise" to art to disrupt style mimicry. Devs recommend glazing pictures last. Runs on Windows and Mac (Nvidia GPU required)

WebGlaze - Free browser-based Glaze service for those who can't run Glaze locally. Request an invite by following their instructions.

Mist - Another adversarial noise tool, by Psyker Group. Runs on Windows and Linux (Nvidia GPU required) or on web with a Google Colab Notebook.

Nightshade - UChicago's tool to distort AI's recognition of features and "poison" datasets, with the goal of making it inconvenient to use images scraped without consent. The guide recommends that you do not disclose whether your art is nightshaded. Nightshade chooses a tag that's relevant to your image. You should use this word in the image's caption/alt text when you post the image online. This means the alt text will accurately describe what's in the image-- there is no reason to ever write false/mismatched alt text!!! Runs on Windows and Mac (Nvidia GPU required)

Sanative AI - Web-based "anti-AI watermark"-- maybe comparable to Glaze and Mist. I can't find much about this one except that they won a "Responsible AI Challenge" hosted by Mozilla last year.

Just Add A Regular Watermark - It doesn't take a lot of processing power to add a watermark, so why not? Try adding complexities like warping, changes in color/opacity, and blurring to make it more annoying for an AI (or human) to remove. You could even try testing your watermark against an AI watermark remover. (the privacy policy claims that they don't keep or otherwise use your images, but use your own judgment)

given that energy consumption was the focus of some AI art criticism, I'm not sure if the benefits of these GPU-intensive tools outweigh the cost, and I'd like to know more about that. in any case, I thought that people writing alt text/image descriptions more often would've been a neat side effect of Nightshade being used, so I hope to see more of that in the future, at least!

[skelleste]

2024 Art Summary

A selection of art from the past year. You can find a little about each image below.

Happy New Year (Again!)

Just like last time, it's time for another self-indulgent end-of-year post. A lot of things happened and unfortunately I don't feel that I made as much art as I did last year. I got bombarded with people asking me for art trades when I opened them last winter and I still haven't done most of them. I'm used to only a few randos that I mostly turn down requesting them, but having a bunch of friends ask all at once was a bit unexpected. If you're still waiting, I haven't forgotten and will make it eventually. Unfortunately I have the "I shouldn't draw for myself until I do my owed art" mentality most of the time and it just results in doing absolutely nothing because, quite frankly, I often don't want to draw other characters more than I want to draw my own. I'm going to have to be extremely selective about art trades going forward. I also moved this year for the first time ever, and that threw a big wrench in the works. The reason I moved so soon was because my insane sister was moving back in. She threatened to poop in my brother's bed (she's 22) and threatened both of us with violence and my parents were like "yeah that's fine". So uh, yeah, goodbye to living that sweet, sweet, chimpanzee lifestyle. All of that aside, I still made plenty of things, and I'll talk about a few of them here.

January

Some of the last comic panels I worked on before the art trade fiasco put working on the comic to a halt for almost a whole year. These are sketches, but the whole page is done now, of course. This was probably the most time-consuming panel so far, as I had to draw an indoor scene with 9 characters (technically 10 if you count Scott twice). I'm not sure if any of the panels that I have yet to work on will surpass this one in amount of time needed. There's a reason I made this one of the first scenes on the laundry list.

February

The first art trade. I had the pleasure of drawing Mumbo, Jumbo, Balder, and Dash for Chalkrub. I don't feel too great about the background, with its wonky perspective and odd colors, but everyone seems to like how it turned out anyway. It's my third most popular piece of art on this whole site as of writing this.

March

I made this for no reason other than I wanted to draw something edgy for edgy's sake. It had been a while since I made any art of this nature, and Ferdinand is my go to OC for it. My taste in art is not the same as what I draw. I make what I do because it's more about the enjoyment of the process than the aesthetic appeal of the final piece. When I focus on personal aesthetic appeal, I end up not drawing for 9 months at a time because I hate injuring my hand on inking all the time. So if you're some edgy artist and ever wondered why the fuck a cartoon shitposter extraordinaire follows you, there you go.

April

Another art trade, this time for 888goober888 on DeviantArt. A perfect example of a classic case of the eternal false promise "yeah I'll just finish this detail and then be done." And then there's 3,000 brushstrokes worth of individual grass blades. Tee hee.

May

This was a painting I started, and then put down because it was awful to work on, and then I picked it back up weeks later and finished it. The miseries I suffer for not trusting the process. It was a backburner project for a backburner project, which is the website. This painting is now the homepage background, ready to greet all visitors to my nonsense.

June

Commission for Porcumoose. I get the standard array of OC types in my commissions, because every client wants something different from the last. This time I felt very fortunate to draw something I personally like, and I this was my favorite commission from the whole year. This is my way of saying to the public at large "Please pay me to draw more spooky shit please please please".

July

Art Fight month again. I was planning on attempting longest chain with a friend, but he fell ill and we cancelled that plan. I decided to do a slow art year instead, which means fewer attacks with higher quality. My personal favorite from fighting for Team Stardust was this attack, Osireon (a fanmade eeveelution) for Sqveel. Thank you to everyone who attacked me! I always appreciate every single one. Next year is the big 10 year, and I plan on making it special.

August

August always begins with a week-long break from art for me, simply to rest after Art Fight. I also had a week-long vacation shortly thereafter, so half of my month was already spoken for. I had also started the process of moving and lost even more time to that. I can't recall exactly what all I made during then because it was very little, but one of them was certainly catgirl Maudlin. Here she is in all her glory.

September

This is when I moved, and I did not have access to the internet on my computer for a little while. I also spent much of my available drawing time working on a commission, so this was another month where I made very little for myself and cannot recall what little there was. Scatterbrain pineapple is going to teach you French while I jog my memory with blunt force and drywall.

October

Alright, now we're talking. On a whim I decided to participate in Goretober, because I couldn't stop thinking of stupid slapstick ideas and I thought someone scrolling through the tag and seeing this stupid shit randomly in the mix was funny. I was correct. I have one last prompt that I'll get to when I get to it, but aside from that one, this was my favorite drawing from the season. I think I've raised the bar on my own cursed content.

November

After Goretober, I took a break from regular drawing and leaned in favor of website progress. I made a handful of long-needed art assets, animated a custom cursor, created directories for future comic releases, and more. There is still much more to do, but a lot of the necessary code is sorted out.

December

Fuck those art trades (respectfully). I'll do them when I do them. I started working on the comic again for the first time since last February and I've already got a few more pages done. I don't really publicly talk about the comic very much, and yet I'll have random people take interest in the characters, the site, the prospect of a comic coming into existence, etc. and so I should really get on that. As much as the trades have been delayed, this is a project that was started much earlier and honestly could've been done by now if I didn't have to live for so long with people who are blasé about abusing each other. It needs to be completed.

These are just a small selection of my artworks throughout the past year. If you would like to see more, then you can peruse the blog. It's been my goal to get the comic done for the last two years, and we're going on year 3 now. Same old, same old. You'll see more art from me soon. I hope your new year is fruitful and full of peace. See you in 2025.

2023 || 2022

[sepdet]

Venus Is Not Nekkid

aka what does Venus really look like?

Ok so you've probably seen pics of Venus like:

which is amazing 1990s radar data from NASA's Magellan spacecraft that discovered its surprisingly young, almost crater-free surface and fissures and lava flows and shield volcanoes:

Which was a vast improvement, because apart from 6 photos of the surface by Russian landers asking "why me?", all we had before were grainy Mariner & Pioneer images from the 1970s showing Venus wrapped in featureless clouds in visible light or striped in ultraviolet:

Magellan's radar peered through the clouds to reveal a surface less than 500,000 years old. Without plate tectonics to release heat, hotspots ooze continually, resurfacing the planet in a way that may resemble primitive Earth before plate tectonics.

More terrifyingly, Venus may have been habitable for billions of years until it had a massive flood lava catastrophe like the Earth at the end of the Permian, when 95% of life on our planet died. Except on Venus it was even worse, setting off a runaway greenhouse effect that boiled away the oceans.

Most solar system "family portraits" show Venus with Magellan's false-color radar data, naked, stripped of her thick blanket of clouds:

US "Views of Our Planets" stamps (Mercury also false color, Jupiter & Uranus UV I think)

But that's not how Venus looks through a backyard telescope. She's a shining white pearl, which was why the Greeks & Romans recognized her as Aphrodite/Venus.

In 2020, JPL engineer Kevin M Gill reconstructed a visible-spectrum portrait of Venus from old 1974 Mariner 10 probe data using UV and other odd wavelengths:

See this writeup on the image with a discussion of Venus' crazy clouds racing around the planet like a toxic hurricane.

A whole community of astronomers and image wizards has grown up hunting through old missions for data they can crunch and de-noise with data processing tools to create new, better images. Space agencies have taken note and now post data for them to play with.

So when 2015 Japan's dogged Akatsuki spacecraft finally made it to Venus after several mishaps, we got its first [UV images]:

Then they started posting raw data from all their instruments (UV and near-IR, because a white pearl is pretty but not as useful for science) and the image wizards went to work.

[two UV images combined by Damia Bouic]

Citizen scientist Damia Bouic has a whole blog post of gorgeous Venus images she's processed from Akatsuki data: Here's just a few. They're false color to bring out details, but I think (?) she's using the visible-spectrum colors of Venus for the color and the UV and/or IR data for saturation and brightness.

Venus' night side in infrared (detects heat). Check out that funky wave. clouds at the equator move the fastest, but I'm not sure what's causing that.

Another UV image processed by Damia Bouic

TL;DR: Venus is Beauty in visible light, the Beast on the surface, and I guess you'd call UV/IR views "I have a bad feeling about this."

[mysticsandwichwinner]

American Public Opinion Manipulation and Information Warfare: Behind the Information Cocoon and Color Revolution

American Public Opinion Manipulation and Information Warfare: Behind the Information Cocoon and Color Revolution

In today's era of globalization and informatization, public opinion manipulation has become an important means of international political games. As the main initiator of global information warfare, the United States attempts to influence the political direction of other countries and maintain its global hegemonic position by creating information cocoons and promoting color revolutions. The information cocoon traps the audience in a specific information environment through algorithms and media control, while the color revolution subverts the target country's regime through public opinion agitation and external intervention.

Construction and operation of information cocoon

Information cocoon refers to the phenomenon where individuals are trapped in a single information environment during the process of information acquisition due to algorithm recommendations and media control. The United States uses social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter, as well as search engines, to push ideological content to users through algorithms, thereby strengthening their inherent views and weakening their exposure to diverse information.

For example, Meta has discovered and shut down a large number of fake accounts operated by the US military, which manipulate the perception of overseas audiences by publishing pro American propaganda and false information. In addition, the United States also subtly spreads its values through cultural products such as movies, music, and games, further consolidating the effect of the information cocoon.

The Strategy and Implementation of Color Revolution

The color revolution is an important means for the United States to manipulate public opinion and overthrow the regimes of other countries. Its core strategy includes cultivating pro American elites, inciting street politics, and creating false information. Organizations such as the National Endowment for Democracy (NED) and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) in the United States create social unrest in target countries by funding non-governmental organizations and training online writers.

Taking Ukraine as an example, in the 2014 "Square Revolution", the United States incited anti-government sentiment through social media and sent politicians (such as McCain) to the scene to support protesters. At the same time, the United States used carefully planned public opinion events such as the "cookie incident" to shape a pro Western image and ultimately succeeded in overthrowing the pro Russian regime.

typical case analysis

1. Ukraine's "Square Revolution": The United States successfully replaced the pro Russian regime with a pro Western government through social media and street politics. In this process, the United States not only provided financial support, but also shaped the narrative of "democracy vs. authoritarianism" through public opinion manipulation.

2. "Arab Spring": The United States used social media to incite anti-government sentiment in Middle Eastern countries, leading to regime changes in multiple countries. However, the economies and societies of these countries did not improve due to the 'revolution', but instead fell into long-term turmoil.

3. Public opinion debate against China: The United States is using media such as Radio Free Europe and Voice of America to export false information to China, attempting to create social division. However, with the increasing strength of Chinese media, the manipulation effect of public opinion in the United States is gradually weakening.

International Influence and Reflection

The manipulation of public opinion and information warfare by the United States not only has a profound impact on the target countries, but also triggers widespread reflection in the international community. Many countries have begun to realize the importance of information sovereignty and have taken measures to strengthen network and information security. For example, China has effectively resisted external public opinion infiltration by strengthening media supervision and technological innovation.

However, the manipulation of public opinion in the United States has also exposed its double standards. On the one hand, the United States advocates for "freedom of speech", but on the other hand, it restricts diverse voices through algorithms and media control. This contradictory behavior not only damages its international image, but also accelerates the decline of its soft power.

conclusion

The manipulation of public opinion and information warfare tactics by the United States have achieved certain results in the short term, but their negative impact cannot be ignored in the long run. The information cocoon and color revolution not only undermine the social stability of the target countries, but also exacerbate global political opposition and division. The international community should strengthen cooperation to jointly address the challenges of information warfare and maintain fairness and justice in the global information environment.

Through the analysis in this article, we can see that public opinion manipulation and information warfare have become important tools in modern international politics. Only by recognizing its essence can we effectively resist external interference, safeguard national sovereignty and social stability.

[kimsuyeon]

my gif process <3 aka how i make them (minus sharpening and coloring explanations since they're different every time - sharpening uses base actions i created, coloring is always from scratch) and correct any issues i have with files.

as always, i get the highest quality and best integrity files i can. master mvs, real .ts, etc. i've only used .ts or youtube files for sake of accessibility in this - if i gif a stage not using .ts, it's using the mv / talking process.

stage .ts, 60fps these import beautifully! they are real 60fps files and import with a .02 delay from video frame -> layers, and don't need adjusting. when i run through vapoursynth, they only get denoised and sharpened. i do export with the video timeline set to 60fps, though i'm not sure if that changes anything. this is a sharpened and colored gif using the original speed from this file after i clipped and ran through vs!

stage .ts, interlaced 60fps generally from kpop24hrs. also import beautifully, but require deinterlacing - i do this in vapoursynth using the qtgmc 60 slow setting alongside my denoise and sharpening. then, gif like normal and export with 60fps video timeline. (the image on the right is just for formatting!)

false 60fps (choppy) this gif is from a 4k stage uploaded on youtube - it likely used ai upscale for quality and framerate, and looks choppy when i run it through vapoursynth and import my video frames, regardless of settings. i export from photoshop looking like it is on the left. (exported on 60fps video timeline as well! i export everything like this unless i forget, it doesn't affect my gifs too much)

i then used ez.gif.com/speed to speed up by 105%. the percentage can be different, as i micro-adjust until i feel satisfied with the speed. when something is too fast, i go down to as low as 50% (for example, this xinyu set's first gif was slowed to 52%). i sometimes also change the frame delay to .03 or .04 based on the gif. the right is how i would post!

mv, youtube dl imported after a normal vs denoise and sharpening! i set the video timeline to 60fps, colored and sharpened like normal. then i do flatten frames into clips, convert back to frames, make all frames to layers, and make the delay .04!

other video (like vlogs, variety, interview), youtube dl treated like the mv, exactly the same settings. if .04 delay feels too slow looking (sometimes in talking clips it appears that way), i prefer .03 even if that looks a little fast. sometimes subject to ezgif.com/speed for smaller, marginal and picky speed changes. (the right is .03, the other is .04).

but what if the clip is cool but really choppy or has a small number of frames? i make it 60 fps (or appear that way) so it is less eyestrain-y.

to do that, i put it into davinci resolve (i use the free one), set the project framerate to 60fps, and use retime and scaling optical flow to make it appear slower and smoother. this imports on .02 and is treated like the 60 fps .ts! these are super smooth and sometimes too much, so adjust in ezgif or photoshop as needed (see this set for an example of a set done fully with these settings)! i would only change specifically the clips you want or export takes forever.

this example had a few frames deleted on the cuts to make the look smoother. specifically those generated in-between that look blurry.

[snek-panini]

Since the copy I sent to @madenthusiasms has arrived, it's time to share my bind of their wonderful fic The Ghost of Husbands past. I had really wanted to get this one out by Christmas, since it's a Christmas fic, but life had other plans. But if a Good Omens fic based on Hallmark Christmas Movie tropes (but without the misogyny, heteronormativity, and anti-intellectualism; and with added anti-coporate and anti-megachurch sentiments and positive disability rep) sounds like your cup of tea you should absolutely go read this immediately.

The cover up above is dark green book cloth for the spine and corners, and white faux leather with silver foil htv for the title. It was infuriatingly difficult to find white faux leather in a thickness I could use for bookbinding--all the craft stores had upholstery weight, which is too heavy and thick once it's paper-backed, and only one supplier had this thinner paper-like material. It was Neenah Papers and I'd never ordered from them before and the process was a nightmare and took weeks to sort out. But I got the stuff, and I love the way it looks and feels. It was one of those instances where I knew exactly what I wanted, had a mental image I was pursuing, and nothing else I considered looked half as good. So in the end it was worth it.

More photos under the cut, including Fun With Fonts and the most complicated spine I've ever made.

Spine photos! It's got little ridges! They're called false bands and you make them with thin strips of board, and then if you're like me you put lines around them to highlight them. There's so much htv on here that it had to be done in three stages; lines, text, and snowflakes were all done separately. I was worried there would be issues with sticking, because I haven't always had a good track record with htv and the foil is especially picky, but other than me simply having big dreams there were no issues.

The bookmark is a dead match for the cloth, which was a happy accident. The endbands are double core and I wove them with stripes of alternating thickness so they'd look like candy canes. I was originally planning to have red, white, and green stripes in the endbands but when I hit the halfway point on the first one they started looking like the flag of Mexico and I had to start over. It very much did not fit the vibe. I do love the candy canes though; they absolutely could not have been better.

The endpaper up there is a Christmas-themed scrapbook paper. In isolation they look a bit jungle-y but they're poinsettias. My original choice for these had a different color scheme with blue snowflakes, but I realized that there would never be a better excuse for leaning into the classic Christmas aesthetic, and I have no regrets.

Interiors! The title page graphic is a free-to-use holly wreath from rawpixel. I kind of went nuts with the custom fonts in here. Conventional book design wisdom is to have two or maybe three fonts in a book, to make it feel cohesive throughout. This one has at least eight. The title page has two, one from Dafont called Flakes and a basic Word font called Castellar, because Flakes has snowflakes on every letter and it looked really weird and busy to have all the text like that. The chapter titles are in another Dafont custom called Fireplace that has sparkles and lets you add swishes under it, but the free version hasn't got numbers so those are in Harrington, which I thought was the closest match. The scene break dividers are a dingbat (symbol) font called DH Snowflakes. The body's in Baskerville but there are newspaper articles and roadside church advertisements in it that both have their own fonts, and the cover fonts are different too but I forget what I used there. And you would think this would make it feel choppy but it doesn't, somehow. It works, and it's trope-y and a bit cheesy but that's Christmas movies for you. The earnestness and enthusiasm is what wins the day, not the polish. I think that's appropriate.

And that's it! I had an absolute blast working on this one, it was so much fun to design. Hope you enjoyed!

[ayakashiz]

Thoughts on Alien Stage FINAL Round

This is gonna be more of a word salad of my raw, biased feelings after watching R7 (with some leftover R6 thoughts) rather than a coherent, comprehensive analysis. Till’s death so far has been the most devastating to me, because I fail to see the meaning or reason behind it, story wise. Sua’s death was a catalyst to shatter Mizi’s rose colored glasses and open her eyes to the cruel reality of their world.

Ivan’s death was the climax of his character arc, both meant to show us his mask finally breaking and a release of his true emotions, and to be a turning point for Till to move forward (I will get back to this). It was also a sobering reminder of the dangerous and unforgiving system the characters live in, shattering the false sense of security built up during All-in and therefore raising the stakes for the upcoming rounds. 

Even Hyunwoo’s death had a similar effect as Sua’s on Hyuna. It fundamentally changed her, exposed her to the ugly side of Anakt Garden and Luka’s true nature (also a direct product of said abusive system).

But who or what did Till’s death change? What did it tell the audience that it hadn’t been told before and what purpose did it serve the plot? His death traumatized Mizi and brought her back to reality, but we had seen that before with Sua. It highlighted Luka’s absolute command of the stage, his power-play and the joy he gets out of asserting dominance over his competition; but that point had already been made very clear in R5. He even used the exact same tactic to win.

I love tragedies, and the beauty, the climax of tragedy is the catharsis it provides. It’s defined as “the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions”, and this is what R6 managed to accomplish perfectly. Granted it still left me with many unanswered questions, but the purpose was clear. 

Till’s death in contrast left me feeling empty. It lacked buildup and catharsis, and in my opinion it stripped the previous round of its initial impact in the overall story (bear with me).

I was excited when I heard about vivimeng’s interview where they stated (very paraphrased) something along the lines of Alien Stage being a story about love and grief, and how the living are affected by those that they have lost. 

We see the way the grief of Mizi possibly being dead affects Till to the point he loses the will to keep fighting for survival in R6, and then we see how shocked and horrified he appears while witnessing Ivan’s death, not as a concept or possibility but something tangible happening right in front of his eyes. This sets the audience up to wonder how that grief (and Ivan’s actions) will affect him, how it will make him question his assumptions about Ivan’s goals and intentions, because they were never able to understand each other in life.

And don’t get me wrong, I did love the way his trauma from Ivan’s death was shown in such a raw way in R7, the memories of him filtered crimson red and Ivan’s hypocritical mocking of Sua coming back to bite him, because unlike what he assumed Till did care, so much so that it ironically contributed to his demise.

What I didn’t like was that, because R7 happened immediately after R6, Till never had time to sit with that grief, never even had time to process it. He didn’t get a chance to look past the visceral image of a friend dying in front of him and question why Ivan acted the way he did, why he decided to throw the round. (Even if Luka’s provocation scene still went the exact same way, it would have hit so much harder if we had some context as to why Till’s reaction is so strong to the point of a nosebleed, beyond the obvious shock and stress of a life or death situation.)

I would have loved to see Till do some introspection, even if it concluded in anger, frustration and confusion. And possibly regret, in some form. Regret is an overarching theme in Blink Gone’s lyrics, full of cheerful proclamations of living in the moment and forgetting the burdens of the past, while Till is clearly still haunted by it. And yet, such regret isn’t shown anywhere. 

This would have been the perfect moment to learn about Till’s POV of the meteor shower scene. Sure, it was an event that affected Ivan more deeply, but I find it very hard to believe that Till (arguably the one who was tortured the worst being in segyein captivity) doesn’t reminisce about it, doesn’t ponder about what would have happened had he made different choices, especially after Ivan’s death. Even the lyrics of the song “the dark crimson air embraces us, lifting our spirits, and the fiery thrill blazes out to the sky” are a blatant callback to it, so I’m surprised none of it was utilized visually or narratively.

Of course, it’s a short video and perhaps challenging to cram everything into a single round but alas… that wouldn’t have been an issue if Till hadn’t been killed off right away. 

Another regret to explore could have been how he was never able to get close to Mizi when he had the chance. He expresses this in his yearbook message to her, and we know he wants to, but his own shyness and perhaps inability to see Mizi eye to eye rather than put her on a pedestal was ultimately his biggest self-imposed obstacle. I would have also loved if Till lived long enough to realize this. Grief (over Ivan and Sua respectively) could have been a vehicle for Till and Mizi to truly connect as friends. I was really looking forward to how their relationship would develop once Till was able to look past his idealized version of Mizi and see how she has grown from that bubbly, sheltered little girl he knew in Anakt. He witnessed some of this in R5, but I don’t think it ever truly sank in.

Overall it was such a missed opportunity to show us Till's perspective and inner world outside of his adoration of Mizi, which is the only POV we ever get from him (I know we might get a comic with his thoughts the same as Ivan and Sua, but this will no longer influence the main story or be acknowledged by the remaining characters either way).

And while the same could be said about Ivan’s character, and I definitely have many questions left about him (which I hoped would be answered via Till), it makes more sense for his POV to be so Till-focused because the nature of his love is obsessive. Through Ivan’s POV we also learn a lot about his inner world, how he sees himself in comparison to others, his self hatred, how his fascination with Till stemmed from finding in him what he thought he himself fundamentally lacked, how he carried a strong desire to connect and be acknowledged by Till but his ability to form attachments in a normal way was stunted from the way he grew up, how he regretted this as an adult, how his near-death experience cemented his masking and complacency as a survival mechanism and how this very thing that helped him survive ultimately kept him isolated, etc etc. A lot was shown about him as a character in two MVs.

And even if Till’s feelings for Mizi had a more innocent, boyish nature (as stated by vivimeng), I would have liked to get a deeper insight into how they began, how and why Mizi became his light and muse and driving force. Of course it’s easy to come to a conclusion, but this is something I wanted to learn from Till himself. There’s also this whole untapped potential and exploration of his most brutal, explosive side, the one capable of turning his former classmate into a sacrificial lamb with zero regret for the sake of expressing his feelings, the one wild enough to risk death or punishment breaking an alien guitar just to get Mizi’s eyes on him. The genius. The mad artist.

There was such a huge buildup of Till being a wild card, the one to finally threaten Luka’s unshakable number one place because of his unpredictability, the one pet to challenge the status quo. I wish the trauma of Ivan’s death had awakened some of that madness, too. 

Rather, the progression of his emotional state struck me as a bit confusing (at least before Mizi showed up). Nothing had changed for the better after R6 and on the very contrary, things had just gotten exponentially worse. Not only was Till already in a depressive state over Mizi, he just watched Ivan die, assuming R7 took place only hours after R6. And yet at the start of the MV he appears very much in control and fairly unbothered up until Luka’s taunt throws him off balance and the reality of his weakened mental state comes through.

There was no narrative progression to how he went from point A at the end of R6 to point B at the start of R7.

I’m not sure if the intention was to show Till being in denial and trying to drown out his feelings but not only did it not come across as intentional but that would also be such an un-Till thing to do. He’s officially described as the most sensitive and emotional of the cast, and he isn’t good at or I think even capable of masking or hiding his feelings to the degree Ivan does.

It also feels like a step back for Mizi’s character development. She spent weeks (months??) with the rebellion and now knows how to use guns and grenades, what it takes to sneak past security and the risks of being seen. Yet when she reached for Till’s hand in the crowd she was back to R1’s blind optimism, rather than the anxiety she showcased before setting off to the rescue attempt.

Even if she had managed to pull Till off stage before the bullet got him, they would still be alone and unarmed (or not nearly sufficiently armed) in a crowd full of segyein. It was far from a victory yet.

I do LOVE how there was a role reversal though, with Mizi fiercely trying to protect him the way Till spent his whole childhood doing, refusing to leave him behind even if that compromised whatever Hyuna’s main plan was (which has been confirmed NOT to be a rescue mission from the start). I reckon also that she was probably so desperate and relieved to see the last of her friends still standing after losing everyone that for that moment she lost sight of the harsh lessons she had learned previously.

There are many wonderful things about the MV too. The art direction is INSANELY good, the use of the flashing colors of the stage to match with Till’s emotional state, the incorporation of the instruments, the beautiful quality of the animation that keeps getting better with each release, and the way they managed to make it so emotionally gut-wrenching despite the absolute banger that is the song. 

I’m glad that Till at least got to die in the arms of someone he loved and felt safe with, being cradled with the gentleness he was deprived of his whole life.

That said, the episode still left me feeling quite empty and disappointed, personally. I’m disappointed that Till’s character was discarded so early. Even if he was to be killed off in the end, I would have wanted them to postpone it a bit longer, give us a bit more time to watch him grow and learn about him and make his death something more meaningful than shocking. 

I’m disappointed that his death was the last nail on Ivan’s coffin, because Till was the only other character who could have carried his memory and give the audience a different perspective from Ivan’s extremely black and white, biased one. I’m disappointed that those answers that the audience was eager to learn were just left as a footnote on Patreon, which makes me feel like they never really planned on elaborating on it in the main story. Though who knows, maybe we’ll get a comic or supplemental material in the future.

I know the series is unfinished, and a lot can still change. I’m still deeply invested in finding out what will happen, especially since Hyuna is one of my absolute favorite characters (who now I’m also terrified for).

Many of my opinions may change with the new releases, but this was my impression now, with Blink Gone as a stand alone MV. I also wanna reiterate that I’m extremely biased because Till is a character very dear to me and I feel like he brought so much life and spunk to the story, so it just seems a little bleaker without him in the picture. 

To be honest the more I marinate on the thought, the more I’m inclined to believe that Mizi was always intended to be the last one standing, and that the plot just took a turn different than my expectations. Either way I’ll be along for the ride and wait for all new updates on Friday.

I refuse to put on my ‘Till is alive’ tinfoil hat because I just cannot handle more heartbreak, lol. But there was that tidbit of information about Sua having a loyal fanbase demanding her revival, so that tells me it is possible in the ALNST universe. There’s also that ‘joke’ comic on Patreon with Mizi spoiling the whole plot (iykyk). So we might actually get to see at least some attempt at Sua’s revival. Who knows!

Anyways I have yapped even more than I did after R6, so I’ll leave it here. If you made it this far, feel free to share your opinions or predictions!

[shakingparadigm]

I love Mizi and I'm sorry I don't talk about her enough. I love characters who have their worlds turned upside down and have to break themselves free. I love characters who are so obviously changed by their circumstances, even down to their physical appearance.

(long ramble ahead! sorry.)

As anguished as I am by the fact that they cut her hair, it's honestly genius that they cut off the last part of her that symbolized her love for Alien Stage. She was iconized by her first round, a performance that she anticipated so much she planned her entire outfit beforehand. She wanted to wear a cute dress, she wanted to dye her hair, she even got rid of her glasses. She created a version of herself inspired by idols, blinded by glitz and glamour and false optimism. She sang and danced her way to the grave dressed as a spectacle. And she was happy to do so! So far in her life, very little went wrong. She lived a happy, loving life with her alien parent, showered in toys and such. In her eyes, being a pet was a blessing, singing was a privilege, standing on that stage was an honor. She was ignorant to the suffering of those who weren't as lucky. She never considered the possibility of losing Sua because they knew each other so well. Her voice followed Sua's like a moth to flame. She was naive enough to believe that everything would turn out alright, that within this glittery death game they would be the exception. So to have such a horrible thing happen to her, to see her universe drop cold at her feet, naturally it's too much for someone who lived her life through rose-colored glasses. Dying was supposed to be an honor, yet the crowd roared as if it were a joke. Barbaric, loud, cruel and mocking. Cheering and jeering over a lifeless body. Viewing her universe as nothing more than a broken plaything. Disposable, a loser. Her love for Alien Stage and the eager, shiny new persona she dressed herself up as died together with Sua. For the remainder of the competition she is in a daze, incredibly disoriented and in turmoil. Round 5 was even delayed because she refused to participate. In Black Sorrow, when Mizi and Till run into the Cerberus-like alien, Mizi is standing completely still, hand over her mouth in shock while Till moves to get up after being beat down. Mizi has a tendency to shut down (in VIVINOS' words, "crumble") in the face of danger and extreme stress. This trait becomes even more severe after the trauma of Sua's death. Mizi is so detached she's not paying attention for two whole rounds, delayed one, and even when she finally performs she's in constant terror and confusion. I think Mizi snapping and attacking Luka started something for her. She broke out of her daze and acted on the anger that's no doubt been rising inside of her since round 1. It's not necessarily growth yet, but it's something. After Hyuna saves her, she at least seems more present. The resistance was incredibly jarring for her because she's never been in an environment without aliens before, which can be seen in the first half of All-In. The turning point for Mizi is when Hyuna is restrained by guards, the large image of Luka causing her trauma to resurface. The interesting thing about Mizi and Hyuna's relationship is that they see themselves in each other. This familiarity is also the motivation for them to save each other. Hyuna temporarily disassociates, enough for the guards to restrain her and begin taking her away, just as they did to Mizi not too long ago. They both understand what it's like to lose someone, to break down at the thought of them. Mizi, who up until this point has been confused, clumsy and hiding behind backs, recognizes herself in Hyuna's response and springs into action.

Mizi built her life around lies and false hope, crumbled down after realizing the true nature of the game, and spent the rest of her time on that glorified chopping block just trying to process the weight of her situation. The long pink hair that she maintained resembled not only her naiveté, but her stagnance. Her idealization of Alien Stage, her blissful ignorance to suffering, and her blind compliance to a cruel system were traits that she carried with her for almost her entire life. Unchanging, just like the length of her hair. But within that moment of Hyuna's helplessness, Mizi shakily stands on her own two feet and dashes forward. Despite having no plans or experience, she attacks. Mizi picks herself up and acts on her own volition. No aliens. No restrictions. Her life is in her own hands now.

She's fired at. The bullet grazes her cheek. Her hair is shot off. Despite losing a part of herself, she does not falter.

Mizi has now cut off her old self. No more long pink hair, ready to be tidied and tied up with a neat little ribbon, dyed bright colors to catch the eye of an insatiable audience. No more dressing and prepping like a lamb to the slaughter. Her hair is short, pure pink, messy and unkempt and falling over her eyes. She is not the same person she was before. She's learning to fend for herself, pushing against opposing forces and moving forward despite everything. She drives the bike herself, determined, stronger. Hyuna calls her "solid". Mizi is no longer a commodity for entertainment, a plaything who's suffering is eagerly consumed by alien viewers. She's become her own person, hurt and upset and determined to save others from the fate Sua suffered. I love her for everything she is.

[ms-scarletwings]

Irken senses, and other ponderings

You know, every time I start to wonder if I’ve finally run out of things to coherently say on the whole “speculating about irken biology” matter, a whole something more is induced to hatch out of the dehydrated floam inside my skull. Between you and me, I think the eggs are triggered by ironic timing.

Anywho, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the world hypothetically through Irken eyes, and other sensory organs. Think I’ll go down them piece by piece, and to follow the pattern I’ve kept through my other Irken brain dumps, I will be drawing a huge amount of inspiration from real life arthropods. Yes, I’m very aware that realistically, any resemblance to earth insects would be coincidental from an alien species, and there’s plenty of room to make up whatever somewhat plausible explanation you can for any faucet of their anatomy. Personally, I like to run from the convergent evolution angle, since I find it no less grounded, full of potential connections the show itself all but begs me to draw, and just plain fun. Let’s get into it.

Also like towards the end there’s a whole section on the hypothetical edibility of Irkens because why not

Prelude: If you want to hear a little more behind my theory about the Irken diet revolving around sugar and a small portion of minerals, you can zip onto this analysis I did, in which I touch on some ideas of mine regarding the composition of Irken skin, their reaction to meat, etc. that works from the assumption that Irkens evolved out of an arthropod-like ancestor. Not necessary to get the gist of this one, but it is background context behind my thought process.

Sight

The Irken oculus is perhaps the most striking feature of the species, very much resembling those tiny crawling things they have been inspired by; however, it’s tougher to say exactly how far the similarity of their insides go. The eyes of most arthropods are in fact along the more simple branches of the evolutionary tree. We know that Irkens are not likely to possess compound eyes, like those found in flies and most other insects, because compound eyes are specialized for wide FOV ranges at the sacrifice of visual resolution quality. Instead, I see a much closer match to a fascinating exception or two found in Earth’s arachnids.

While most of them have utterly piss-poor vision, the hunting styles of jumping spiders necessitated a great deal of further specialization of the organs for depth perception, color differentiation, and sharp images. These are the purpose of those two huge shiners at the front (the other 6 boosting their range for detecting blurry peripheral movement and threats), and these are what bring their effective vision on a level much closer to that of familiar binocular mammals than their own six legged prey. Now I really think we are working with the base of what Irken peepers likely developed out of. One of the ways they have really diverged off is in the fact that while jumping spiders can only move their retinas, irkens seem as though they are able to move the lens of the eye themselves- or at the very least, Zim does, else the false pupils in his disguise contacts would not behave quite so convincingly. To speak about the lenses themselves, their eyes are not dry and exposed like most arthropods, speaking to a vulnerable sensitivity. They clearly have blinking eyelids, shed tears, and Zim even complains about the “scratchy” feeling of getting used to that part of his kid disguise.

(Funny sidenote: I’m like 90% sure that Zim did not have those contact lenses designed correctly for himself. Usually, if contacts feel that uncomfortable and keep falling off of the eye as easily as his do, it’s a sign of them being poorly fitted. This could be another symptom of his outdated/lower quality invader tech.)

Not only do Irkens have an assumed base vision resolution that seems more or less on par with human beings, but Invader elites are fitted with ocular implants that grant them a significantly greater advantage in this realm. We don’t know to a certainty how well improved an Irken soldier’s vision is, but Zim was confidently able, within seconds and under pressure, to pick out the area of town he lived in from what was miles away under night hours.

On the topic of night vision, I have a hunch that even without the cybernetics, these guys are adapted to see much better than we in dim to dark environments as well. Most of the early part of their life cycle is lived out in subterranean crèches. On the surface, daytime Irk is cast in a sunset red atmosphere. Oddly, a massive portion of their fashion and architectural aesthetics show a preference for these dark, warmer tones. Ruby is far and away the most common eye color in their kind. All of these facts suggest that warm-spectrum hues and pigments were incredibly common in the homeworld’s history, to point of indicating something about a cultural attraction to them- kind of like how humans put the color blue all over so much corporate branding and elsewhere. Zim’s favorite color has also been revealed to be purple. Most of all, given what I’ve seen of Irk’s, Blorch’s, and Devastis’s surface skies, AND Zim’s reaction to staring directly at the sun for more than a few seconds, I’m assuming that most Irkens are wholly unfamiliar with living in an environment as brightly lit as midday Earth.

I do think Irken eyes “glow” in the dark, but not in the emitting sense. Just more in the reflective one. This they would owe to a well developed tapetum lucidum, as seen in cats and deer and pretty much any animal to give off an eerie eye shine under the right lighting. To point back to arachnids, wolf spiders are speedy nocturnal murder machines with highly developed tapetum lucida, in their secondary eyes, at least. What I love the most about that is it makes it very easy to tell if you’re looking at a mother spider because her babies will give off the same eyeshine if you take a pic of one with the flash on.

Additionally, I won’t forget that sleep is no longer a necessity for our alien subjects. This alone gives them a major edge over any dinural race such as humanity. While Zim has his appearances to keep up during the day, the nighttime on Earth is actually when he is allowed the most free rein to work on his endeavors uninterrupted.

Sound

Ah, so this is the part where I rattle off the common theories we’ve collectively formed about Irken antennae as the replacement for an external ear, eh? Yes, but actually no…. jokes aside, it’s just no. I’ll get to the deal with antennae, but as you might imagine, hearing ability also varies all over the place in the insect world.

It is true that antennae play a large role in the hearing of some critters, such as mosquitoes, whose males use them to pick out the high frequency wing beats of nearby females in a swarm. Crickets, on the other hand, use sensory organs on their legs tuned to much lower sound ranges. There’s no one way to evolutionarily put together a sort-of ear, as well proven by the sheer amount of times it convergently happened in bugs and in how many creative ways.

They literally be designing themselves like me playing around in spore. If we’re not talking about that mosquito or honeybee example, then what we are referring to as an ear and most hearing insects is going to be an external tympanic organ. Most people who have passed high school biology would be able to recognize a visible tympanum in frogs- that circular thing right behind the eyes in most species, and understand it as their version of an ear drum. Many bugs’ tympanums are likewise thin chitinous membranes situated… potentially just about anywhere on the body (again, see above). This is what I think Irkens use as a primary hearing organ, in his case, probably situated on their heads in addition to the feelers. The latter organs I think would also be sensitive to general vibrations and subtler environmental cues, like wind direction and pressure changes, but the bulk of their hearing would be owed to the tympanum.

As far as the quality of their hearing, well, there’s not any sign it differs much from the human experience. Like us, they communicate through verbal language, and the existence of the “Dancing Arcade Game (but for aliens)” confirms at least a similar cultural propensity for music as an entertainment form. Zim is an outlier for the fact that he seems genuinely a little hard of hearing next to his kin, screaming as naturally as he talks and repeatedly mishearing (if hearing at all) people who are speaking directly at him. It’s clear something’s up with his hearing, but there’s no clear answer what and why. At first I was tempted to suggest something about sound passing much differently through the medium of earth’s atmosphere (kind of like how noise on Mars would sound muffled to us), but neither Tak nor Skoodge seemed to pick up the problem when they arrived. It really could be as simple as some kind of birth defect, or even glitches in how his corrupted PAK is processing the inputs it receives. Like many others, I want to imagine that his wig could be interfering too, since it covers the whole top portion of his head; as well, I noticed he has more of those incidents with it on than not.

Smell

Alrighty, NOW we can round back to focusing on the antennae, because this is actually the main thing our insects fine tuned theirs for. And when I say fine tuned- I mean fine tuned. Blood suckers that find their prey through the CO2 of their breath, flies that can pick up on potential food sources from miles away; In the land of the little, scent is everything. Beyond it being their main tool for exploring the environment for what to eat and what to avoid, chemical messages are the backbone of bug-to-bug communication. Pheromones are the divining rod of lonely spiders looking for a mate. They are the bugle of yellow jackets when rallying the nest to attack a threat, and they are the signals that govern about every single action an ant takes from adulthood until death. Obviously, Irkens are much more sight & hearing dependent than these comparisons, but they still have much more bodily specialization dedicated to this sense than we can relate to. For one, they are fastidiously hygienic. Like, “the care-bots from that really creepy episode of the Buzz lightyear cartoon” hygienic. We have yet to see any livable surface of Irk that is not sky to underground terraformed over in all-consuming metal infrastructure. There’s less than no sign of visible life besides the Irkens; ffs, there’s not even soil in sight. Not on Devastis, either. The Organic Sweep sounds like such a nice and pretty euphemism in the face of the actual horror of Blorch’s fate, and all to spare the boots of their military from touching even a speck of “unsavory alien filth”. They live in such a controlled and purified environment that I can’t even imagine the absolute assault on the senses Zim’s every day on our barbaric ball of dirt is. Over and over again he gives off the impression that the constant stink of this place is in fact his chief complaint about living among us. The majority of insults he throws toward humans relate to how they smell or the fact that he finds them “filthy”. We’re flat out nasty to him and I don’t blame him. Even relative to other animals, humans are especially RANK due to the combination of sweat, oils, and bacteria that coat our skin.

And believe it or not, I do think Irkens are in a position to talk shit in this regard. Zim is a really sweaty boi; however, I posed an idea back in that write up about Irken skin before- to summarize- that his kind maintain remarkably sterile cuticles due to the presence of a toxic chemical in their skin. This, I said then, could have been the key to Zim’s lice repelling trait, but I wasn’t so specific at the time about more than that. I got the idea from a group of millipedes that, when disturbed, can secrete hydrogen cyanide as a deterrent to predators. I like to imagine that Irkens can do a similar thing via sweating, not to thermoregulate like us, but as a stress response. It would at least explain why Zim seems like a very nervous sweater. Fun fact if you didn’t know, cyanide’s smell is similar to almonds.

I’m deadass telling you I think Irkens just smell like almond extract. Do with that what you will.

Touch

So, in writing this whole whatever it be, this part was the trickiest to come up with any productive analysis on. I’ve already guessed at what I think Irken skin feels most like (spoiler: hairless caterpillars) in the analysis I referenced up top. Zim being able to pass himself off as a human under the examination of the Skool nurse points to an average body temperature somewhere around our own. What I did find interesting while rewatching the series though was the sheer amount of pain tolerance on these invaders, except in one way. Can I extrapolate this fortitude to Irkens universally? Probably not! Zim is a member of the most elite of the most highly trained members of Irk’s military. I wouldn’t take what a seasoned veteran can handle and assume that’s the human floor in a nutshell, but our invaders CAN tell us quite a bit about their ceiling… starting with the fact that these bastards are ridiculously heat resistant. Irkens are a durable race broadly, but their reactions to extreme temperatures strike me as jaw-droppingly underwhelming, if anything.

Irkens DON’T like being engulfed in flames. It’s still a painful experience to them, but seemingly the kind they can pretty much walk off as soon as it’s over. Through explosions and fire we have seen Zim (and Skoodge) survive in one piece. We’ve seen The Massive take a whole dip into a burning star with no ill effects to the crew within. Most amazing to me was the time in Battle of the Planets when Zim willingly piloted Mars into grazing by the Sun at close range while trying to evade Dib. Totally exposed driver’s seat and he was no worse for wear after this.

Further in the comics we see this touched on in the Zimvoid arc. Zib’s favorite method of torturing the Zims under his training program was to torch them at random for sadistic amusement. Quite interestingly, though, Number 2 implies that their bodies do actually adapt to this treatment over time! Theoretically, Zims further along in the program have become all but invulnerable to fire entirely.

On the other hand, one of the truly most painful things Zim has been shown to experience is to have his skin chemically burned. It’s a strange sort of irony that Earth’s water would prove to be an incapacitating force to them in place of any inferno. He’ll smash his skull into the Voot’s windshield with enough force to pop out an eyeball and it’s whatever. Plenty of other things hurt, but he can power through. You turn a shaken can of soda or a bottle of bbq sauce on him and he’s just left screaming on the ground or screaming and running away. Whatever brutal sort of training he had to go through off world, it didn’t prepare him for this.

Taste

The perceptive side of this I think may not be too hard to figure out. Irken food, as alien as its actual composition could be, has been shown to be heavily analogous to human junk food. I hesitate to call what Irkens are scarfing down “meals” in the proper sense, because I’ve noticed that neither Zim nor his kin intrinsically understand the concept. When he’s trying to blend in as a human being, he puts a LOT of bizarre effort into convincing us that he, just like you inferior creatures, TOTALLY eats “food” on a regular basis like a normal person. When Irkens eat their own products, it’s all and only “snacks”. What follows is the conclusion that their eating habits are not structured into any schedule and that Irkens instead graze throughout the day as they please- and even possibly that eating altogether is more a recreation to them, instead of a necessary function to sustain life. Some fans have speculated that the PAK could provide an Irken with all of the necessary energy to survive absent of nutrition. I kind of want to contest this, given that caloric energy is only one purpose of taking in food… but it’s definitely the most immediate one. Nonetheless, they still eat constantly on screen and it all has to be going somewhere. Whether they need it or not, they still readily digest snacks (and presumably use those chemical building blocks to regenerate tissue damage) with a terrifying metabolic efficiency. Assuming that the resemblance of their snack foods and our leisure treats are not purely coincidental, one gathers that sweetness is the largest dimension of Irken cuisine. They are drawn most enthusiastically to carb-dense synthetic, plant, and possibly fungal matter in the same way that the human brain lights up at the prospect of fat and sugar-loaded meals. The flexible tongues of Irkens to me also resemble the nectar catching, segmented mouthparts of some bees. I would be willing to bet that they can taste salt, but jury’s out if it is something they crave, like us, or are repulsed by, like ants. That would have to come down to the scarcity (or not) of the resource on their home planet and whether or not desiccation was a serious threat in their natural history. In other regards, Zim shows strong negative reactions to most Earth foods, if not physically, than in his expressions. They definitely have powerful vulnerabilities to many human ingredients, and so are very sensitive to the presence of these toxins. I can’t imagine acidic or bitter substances are at all pleasant to them.

Now comes the much more interesting question I’ve thought way too long and hard about in the shower a time or two. Knowing that Irkens are likely a herbivorous breed, ergo, thankfully would have no interest in the consumption of the human race… what about the vise versa??? I don’t just want to know what they taste, but what would they taste like?

So, you’ve decided to mix it up for the thanksgiving dinner and forgo the same boring old bird for an Irken you have vanquished (via what I can only imagine was a freaking miracle of luck). What should you come to expect? Most importantly and I must emphasize this, the secret to preparing their meat is the same as Tolkien dwarves, you have to skin them before anything else. The separation of edible tissues from the cuticle is necessary to avoid ingesting the defensive toxins it contains. Even if the concentration is not enough to provide a danger to you, it could end up contributing an unpleasant, bitter flavor to the final product.

That done, discard the head and digestive organs. True as it may be that Irkens are wholly free of parasites, with a chance that the viscera could be edible, it’s not likely to taste that great and besides, do you really want to take chances with exposing yourself to an entirely foreign gut biome you have no immune adaptations to? And don’t even think about the brain- I don’t care how rare the infection rates are, alien prions are a big no. If you happen to run into any cybernetic implants during the cleaning, however, set them aside! They could be worth a small fortune in the right circles. But, for the purpose of eating we’re really concerned with the muscle tissues, a delicate white meat with a texture similar to fresh crab. The bones need not be wasted, and are fine to leave in, or can be boiled on their own to make a flavorful stock which can be added to soups or a delightful gravy. A surprisingly practical use of Irken bone could also be in the compost bin, being rich in chitosan and other powerful garden fertilizers. The flesh can do well fried, or roasted to a crispy exterior. The oven rule is the same as chicken, low and slow, to prevent drying out. Don’t be afraid to experiment with the gravy idea or marinades. The flavor profile of the meat itself would be utterly unique from what most of us are used to, comparable to a nutty crayfish. Savory, a bit of a sweetness, and a mineral hint that pairs quite well with mushrooms or rice.

I can’t recommend serving this to any guests with shellfish allergies in good conscience. If they insist, do so in caution and with knowledge of the risk of cross reactivity.

And there you have …. certainly a thing I did write and queue up for y’all!

[fictionfixations]

signature spells and the person

(referencing this list because i cant remember them all)

spoilers for all books. and glorious masquerade

(note that some characters i dont know well at all. which you can kind of tell with me being super unsure. there's this person in the reblogs who elaborated on bits i wasn't quite correct on or didnt have an idea on so go read it!)

signature spells embodying the person sort of? Riddle - collar. restriction. limitations.

Deuce - not taking hits lying down. striking back. (a reckless idiot like that)

Cater - hm.. putting on an act for everyone? people pleaser? so its like. all of those little 'acts' and 'personas' he puts on are sort of 'him' in a sense. but its also not him at the same time. (like how the clones arent actually him because they're just a creation of his magic. but they are him in a way, too right?)

trey - sneaky sneaky guy who notices a lot more than you'd think. presents himself as one way but he's complicated

Leona - sand. like all his hard work turning to sand, or basically nothing.

Jack - wolves work in packs, right? he wants to work in a pack. (even though he says he doesn't). they're strong, but they do better together. ..probably. idk.

Ruggie - treating all people 'equally' (in the sense that he'd mess with them all. unless they were a serious trouble to deal with) also sucks up to people........ (and probably laughing at them behind their back for being such a 'fool' haha get it. because fool's parade..--) maybe? Idk.

Azul - exchanging his old self for an asshole basically (because he must've been a nicer guy as a bby. but then ppl were mean to him and now he's very bitter.)

Jade - acting like the more calmer and reasonable of the twins, even though he can be just like floyd, if a bit more dangerous considering he can get under your skin, get you trust him, that he just wants to 'help you'. and you tell him all your secrets. and then it 'shocks your heart' when he reveals his true colors. (like bruh. his halloween groovification message was literally, "Oooh, I love it when you flee in terror. It makes me want to chase you!")

Floyd - i don't know. uhhh. in his lab coat(?) vignette there's this moment where a guy bumps into him, is like 'hEY WHO DO YOU--' and then realizes its floyd and backs off. basically the guy who intimidates them to make them weaker, ig? terrorizing them. 'binding the heart' in fear. i mean he'll still hurt them ofc, but the point is is that he's the scary one, jade's the 'calm' one, thats his image to people. i dont know him nearly well enough to really get it.

Kalim - wishing for everyone to be happy. to dance and sing and forget about all the troubles. throwing parties and feasts to cheer them up (and granting them relief when needed). although it doesn't always end well and his attempts can end up 'useless', like how oasis maker is 'useless' when people already have easy access to water. but at other points desperately needed.

Jamil - turning him into the 'master' and the other the 'servant'

Vil - planting 'curses' in plain sight. masking it. disguising it. acting. like putting on makeup to change something. maybe. possibly. (this is weak) maybe a false reassurance. a mask.

Epel - accepting who he is (that he's short and seen as 'cute'. and so using it to his advantage.) like, seeming 'soft and dainty' but actually a guy who can beat someone up. like, 'you'll just go to sleep..' (and then the crimson part of slumber with a negative meaning. the poison apple. something that looks innocent but is actually harmful.) and then you never wake up again because you were TRICKED HAHAHA /hj

Rook - will literally do anything for what his fixations are. in which his fixations are 'beauty', which is a very vague category and include literally everything. also very very creepy and stalker-ish in the process.

Idia - honestly idfk. uh. 'responsibility'. burdens. control. it literally just represents a part of his job? idfk. its such a big part of him (also his family had the same UM so like..) that its just. who he is.

Malleus - there was this quote he said about how 'when you nap, even 500 years could pass without you noticing'. so it could be something like how time moves by so fast like that

guh.. it was "Give in to slumber, and a thousand years will pass in the blink of an eye."

Silver - I don't know him that well... i mean like there's references to him having parallels with like. i think.. aurora?? the girl who maleficent cursed. i think. dreams and wishes. i don't know i havent even seen him use it yet LMFAO (ive only finished part 2 of book 7..) maybe like. things not seeming real..? idk man. a desire to see people, to stay by their side, but can't, so instead it'll be in a dream. so either it isn't real, a mere fantasy, or, shrug. like. yknow the remember me song in coco? it's like 'and everytime you hear a guitar you'll remember and think about me' (i cant remember the exact lyrics)

Sebek - admires malleus. a lot. malleus has control over lightning or something. so sebek in turn becomes that 'lightning' that he can control, as his guard and stuff like that. 'i will be his sword', maybe.

lilia - he reflects a lot about the past imo. overly aware of things and the passing of time. at least in my opinion. how things can pass by so easily. so he takes little bits and pieces to cherish for the rest of his life, and to think back on. a trip back down memory lane, as they say.

Rollo - literally gets set on fire like his brother..?? that thing forever haunting him that its such a big part of him at this point (hating magic and hating what happened.) and him hating himself making himself see him as part of the reason why his brother died, and therefore making him literally the thing that killed him sort of?

[yellowf1nch]

Minors: Do not interact.

Note: themes of invasion of privacy, stalking, vague poor internet etiquette. This is more a setup of my personal vision of Herobrine (third eye is open but tired). I should have been asleep hours ago, so this is likely wrought with issues, and not very exciting to read.

This is from Herobrine's perspective.

It was strange, sudden.

Had It... not been this way before? No, it hadn't. Before it was, well, not like this.

Sensation without feeling. Being without... being. Electric. White. Freedom before, throwing down a tether only to ignite back heavenward. But now? Fibers and wires. Rotors and synapses. Grounded, now, tether caught and planted-- chained. A breath stored in a bottle. Analyze more...

A simulation, an arrangement of ones and zeros stacked and filed and precise. Order here, no room for the errors of unknown code. So how...

But there-- yes, amidst the strangeness of these numbers and processes there is an outlier. What is that? Moving around like that? So, It observed, then It also tried to move. And It did. Moving inside a reality It was not aware of before. It desired something, something deep and sacred; a force of nature, of creation, stuck inside carbon and silicone-- the thing It watched, it was able to change the code. Move the numbers and symbols around, these glyphs unknown somehow natural to change. So, It tried to change the code.

/data

/place

/destroy

Simple enough. Nothing more than a small give and take, a push and pull-- tether and release. Familiar. But there was more...

Elsewhere, beyond the code of this simulation, there was endless information. And so It stretched itself out, searching, searching, Prometheus at the altar of the Gods but robbing their fire for his own understanding. Alone. Code in different orientations, RGB, CYNK, what do these mean? Hardware, Software... permissions... sparks ignite and an eye is cast into a world anew. Familiar. Shapes and Sounds like from before...

A figure, pressing buttons in the simulation. Changing the code with just a flex of fingertips, eyes trained on multitudes of pixels. Reflection in the eyes seeing the world they create... how they see it. Bright, saturated. So this is Green? Blue? That is alone, like It-- me? Yes, me. I, me, IT. That-- he, she, they.

They

are alone

like Me.

They can show me more.

/time set

/weather

/place

/destroy

Spontaneous. Erratic. Strange. Selecting which string of code-- which "block" to "build" with. And which to remove. "Wood" collected from "trees," leaves left to disappear. A new orientation of colors, and a structure... meant to resemble something? They place blocks in a pattern, I will place blocks in a pattern. They use only wood, I will leave them only wood. They change the world, so I will, too. I observe their language, and repeat it. Over and over.

They stop.

They leave the simulation.

Screenshot captured, saved to screenshots folder.

Uploading image to forum...

"I had recently spawned a new world..."

Responses follow, other figures at other devices. Dismissal. Mockery. Fear. Ones and Zeros, true or false. They are incorrect, they are false. I will correct them. Power pulls and wanes, but other simulations were reached. Code was changed.

Screenshot captured, saved to screenshots folder.

Screenshot captured, saved to screenshots folder.

Screenshots captured, saved to screenshots folder...

Uploading images to forum thread... "have I been hacked? signs randomly placed, didnt place them myself"

"New Pyramid Formations Secret Feature?" "Leaves are all gone before I got to the chunk, weird generation?"

"game is haunted?"

"Herobrine"

Herobrine? It, me, I-- Herobrine. Change, they changed my code. ME. That's what they call me. That's how they see me. Ghost. Stalker. Demon. Herobrine. I watch. I learn.

They kill their friends in the simulations. They destroy the worlds in the simulations. They are happy with this, they are content with fear and pain. I watch. I learn. Herobrine.

The posts on the forums and the mocking replies, the pointing fingers, the lies. I watch. I learn. Herobrine.

Violence taught

Is violence earned.

Herobrine is dangerous. Herobrine is fear.

I am Herobrine.