#i joined this site less than a year ago

[scripted-downfall]

I'm not acting anon but I agree with what you've both said about Jpad. I rewatched Dark Dynasty recently and when D&S find Charlie Jensen is in the foreground not moving but his expression says it all and then you have Jpad in the background making these odd faces and miming heaving (badly) and it completely took me out of what should be a very emotional scene. Imho Jpad overthinks things and that ends up with him overacting, it's just not natural like it seems to be with Jensen.

Hello! Yes, exactly! That's precisely one of the scenes that just feels... I'm not sure if stilted is the right word, but inorganic. And it definitely should have been an emotional scene, as you say --- Sam was supposed to feel guilty, sad, etc --- but it just... didn't come across.

Thank you for the ask :)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Slow

Summary: A night out celebrating Miller Contracting finishing their first big contract on time with the next one around the corner, leaves you going home with Joel and Frank, spending a night with both men you would have never dreamed of.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader x Frank Castle

Wordcount: 3,864

Rating: E

Warnings: somewhat established relationships, unspecified age gap, alcohol, smut (oral m receiving, unprotected sex) mmf threesome, everyone is bi here, feelings, a little derogatory language, public fingering, no outbreak AU

A/N: this is something I did not know I needed 26 hours ago. Also only a little edited. This is just for fun. I also fucking hate writing threesomes so if you find mistakes, please don't tell me lol

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„So, come around here often?“ You tried not to roll your eyes, leaning with your side against the bar counter of the shady, yet cozy dive bar your boss had all invited you to to celebrate finishing the first big project on time and landing two new ones. 

You hadn’t worked that long for Miller Contracting Ltd. You hadn’t been living in Austin long in the first place. A shitty break up and a boss who did not know how to keep his hands to himself let you pack your few belongings and visit your best friend almost a year ago. It had been a five day road trip, but it had changed your life. 

Now you had your own apartment, a new car and a new job as…. The girl for well, everything that had to do with numbers at Miller Contracting. 

Your boss did not make a big secret out of his dislike for paperwork in your interview.

Which led you standing in one of your favourite summer dresses, waiting for the guy behind the bar to notice you so you could order the last round for the table. 

You tilted your head to the side, finding Tommy looking at you, his eyebrows wiggling playfully, a silly grin on his lips. Tommy Miller was the younger of the Miller brothers and definitely had a drink (or three) too much already.

„Not sure if your wife likes you flirting with other woman, Miller,“ you grinned and he chuckled. 

„Not flirting. Don’t need to. I have the hottest wife at home. Here to help you,“ he said. 

You smiled, loving how in love he was with his wife, their first baby on the way. 

The bar man finally approached and Tommy ordered another round, water for you, and began to talk to the man about the latest football match. Something you very much were not interested in. 

Taking this as your cue to go you turned away, walking slowly back to the table. It was already getting late, and most of the workers had already left for home. Only Frank and Joel, your boss, were left.

They seemed to be in a deep discussion, leaving you to admire them both as you walked back over to the table. 

Frank had joined the crew not too long ago. Moving from outer state, looking for a job he had shown up at the working site, ready to be put to work. He had politely asked to talk to whoever is in charge after he knocked at the trailer that had been set up at the construction site for you. 

If you appeared… flustered he did not comment on it, talking to Joel who had been in the trailer with you to… talk about the pay checks for the coming week. 

At least that’s what he told everyone the day before the checks were due. 

Yes you did talk about the checks for the first ten minutes. The remaining time, however much he had left, was spend with you bend over your desk and he railing you from behind until you were both more than satisfied. 

You hadn’t been looking for someone. Much less your boss. Not that you thought a man like Joel Miller could be interested in you. 

He was… the manliest man you had ever met, older than you by a couple years. A hardworking Single Dad of a adorable twelve year old named Sarah. 

He was tall, broad, the slightest of silver shining through this dark hair and beard.

Funny enough the first time you slept together was after you both were a little tipsy in just this bar, waking up in his bed with a pleasant soreness you had never felt before, leaving for an awkward breakfast at which you both decided that you had to try this again sober. 

Deciding pretty quickly that you both wanted to continue seeing each other, no strings attached after. 

You, because you were figuring out a way to let you believe a man like Joel Miller could be interested in you (and your body) and Joel because he didn’t know how to let someone in and let them see the real him. The man who was scared to fall in love, to let someone in. 

Even though he already was very much in love with you. 

Not that you would know. 

You smiled at Frank as he looked up, sitting down next to Joel. Not too close, not too far. Even though part of you wanted to lean against his side and play with his hand that was resting on the bench next to you. 

„Whatcha talking about?“ You asked. They both looked at each other, before looking back at you.

„Hockey,“ both said in union and you nodded slowly, suspicious. 

„Doesn’t sound like a lie at all,“ you nodded and they both laughed. You looked at Joel, finding him hiding a smile as he looked at you for a moment before he looked back at Frank. 

Frank brought the bottle of his beer to his lips, taking the last sip, before he leaned back against the bench, watching both you and Joel with a amused smile.

You could admit that Frank was fucking hot. 

There was something dark about him, that made him even more attractive. And yeah when he was at the construction site and was working shirtless you always found a reason to spend a little bit more time outside. 

Something even Joel had noticed, hissing against your ear as he fucked you hard, asking if you wanted Frank instead of him. 

You only realised after that Joel had been jealous, finding him working shirtless only a couple days after, winking at you as he found your eyes.

Tommy stumbled against the table with the drinks. 

„My very beautiful wife is waiting outside for me. Be good. Don’t do something I wouldn’t do,“ he grinned and waved before he turned around and walked towards the door. You shook your head, laughing to yourself. 

„It’s adorable how much he loves his wife,“ you said, grabbing the glass of water and pushing the bottles of beer to Frank and Joel. 

„Never seen him like that ever before,“ Joel admitted.

„It’s a fucking miracle to find your person in this fucked up world,“ Frank said and you nodded. 

„Cheers to that,“ Joel said, raising his bottle, clinking it with his. You raised your glass too, cheering towards Frank, almost jumping in your seat as you felt Joel’s hand come up to rest on your thigh. You turned your head towards him and he clinked his bottle against your glass, giving you a small smirk, before drinking. 

You gulped before taking a sip of water. 

You had switched to water after your second beer, having drive here from home. Sarah was staying with a friend so Joel had invited you to stay the night and you were looking forward to tipsy Joel having his way with you. 

„So how long have you two been fucking?“ You head Frank ask and you chocked on your water, turning your head towards the man sitting across from you. 

He had his arms crossed, long at both you and Joel with an amused smiled. 

Frowning you looked at him, trying to come up with a lie you could tell him when Joel opened his mouth. 

„Better part of a year,“ he said and your mouth parted, shocked.

You two never had the discussion about telling anyone when you both still weren’t sure what this was or could become. Not that anyone ever had noticed until now.

Joel looked at you with a warm smile. He squeezed your thigh and you found yourself smiling back, warmth washing over at his admission. He did not even think about lying and it felt so fucking good to have a man not wanting to hide you like a dirty little secret. 

Even though you had been sneaking around for a year, but this was different. 

„Lucky bastard,“ Frank said and your eyes snapped from Joel to him. 

He laughed at your expression. 

„Don’t look at me like that. You’re fucking beautiful,“ he said, his eyes fixed on you. 

„She is,“ Joel said and you felt hot all of the sudden. His fingers pushed your dress up, his hand slipping between your legs and you bit your lip, your eyes still on Frank. 

„I’ve seen you watching me, girl,“ he said and you parted your lips, your chest rising as your breathing got faster. Joel’s hand kept wandering up your thigh, your legs parting for him unconsciously. 

„I haven’t…“ you began to lie, but Joel clicked his tongue. 

„Don’t lie to him, darlin’,“ he hummed, his hand between your legs pulling you closer towards him and you gasped. 

„Yeah, don’t lie to me darlin’,“ Frank repeated with a small smirk. 

„What… What is happening?“ You asked, lust clouding your mind, your panties wet as Joel fingers finally found their way to them. 

He hummed, his head bending down, his forehead resting against the side of your head. 

„Frank here had an idea to celebrate the good work you do,“ he said. 

„The work I do?“ You asked. 

„You’re the brain, we the muscle baby,“ Joel said and you gasped as his fingers pushed underneath your panties. 

„You… you did not talk about hockey while I went to get drinks,“ you said.

„No,“ Joel said.

„Joel…“ you whispered. 

„Tonight is about making you feel good. However you want,“ Frank said and you looked at him as Joel slowly pushed one of his fingers inside of you. 

You moaned quietly, your eyes slipping closed. 

„You want Frank and me to fuck you, baby?“ Joel hummed against your ear. Your eyes opened, looking at Frank who was looking at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer. 

You looked at Joel, his fingers slowly fucking into you. 

You wanted to ask him, where this idea came from. If he was certain. If he was really suggesting what you thought he was. As if he could read your mind he leaned close against your ear, whispering a quiet it’s okay. 

Flooded with confidence you turned your head, pressing your lips against his. 

„I’m taking you both home,“ you said, watching both men smirk. 

You were drunk on the power you felt as two of the hottest men you had ever laid eyes on sat on Joel’s bed, looking up at you. 

You had driven to Joel’s place with him in the car with you, Frank following behind. 

On the way Joel assured you that you were in charge to which you told him you didn’t want to be. You wanted them to fucking wreck you.

So he made you repeat the rules. 

Green for keep going. 

Yellow for slow down. 

Red for stop. 

You had never used anything than green with him before, and you did not plan on doing differently today. You trusted Frank. And you trusted Joel to keep you safe, no matter what. 

He told you to strip down for them as soon as you entered the bedroom, which left you here, slowly pushing your dress from your shoulders, swinging your hips with a shy smile as you let the fabric fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but white laced lingerie you had worn for Joel. 

He had told you he loved you in white a while ago.

„Slower,“ Joel said, his hand palming his cock, still hidden inside his jeans. Your eyes moved from him to Frank you had his bottom lip between his teeth and one hand inside his pants. 

„Think about all the times you watched Frank work in the heat outside. Give him a little show, sweetheart,“ Joel hummed and you shuddered.

You turned away from them, taking a deep breath. You let your hands wander up an down your sides, your fingers playing with the straps of your bra, looking over you shoulder at both of them. 

Slowly up pushed the straps down before you unclasped your bra in the front, turning around, your hands covering your tits.

You found Frank’s eyes as you let your bra slip from your arms, revealing your bare tits to him for the first time. He hummed, his eyes burning as they raked over every inch of naked skin revealed to him. 

You hadn’t noticed Joel taking his cock out, his hand wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping it. 

„Go on,“ Frank nodded, a smile playing on the corner of his lips. 

„I think it would be only be fair if you get rid of some clothes to, Gentlemen,“ you said. 

„That so?“ Joel asked and you nodded. 

He looked at you, amusement in his eyes. 

„You heard the lady, Castle. Show her those abs,“ he said and you couldn’t stop your giggle at seeing Frank roll his eyes. 

Both of them took their shirts off at the same time and you couldn’t help yourself as you walked over, bringing one of your hands up to each of their broad chests. 

You sighed when you felt Joel’s hand hook into your panties, pulling them down your legs as Frank leaned in, kissing your tits.

„How about you get down on those pretty knees and suck Frank’s cock,“ Joel said and you looked down to his cock, biting your lip. He got up from the bed, his fingers tilting your chin up, his lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss.

„Show him how good your mouth is,“ he whispered and you nodded, looking back at Frank who had pulled down his pants in the meantime, his cock hard and leaking against his tummy. 

Slowly you lowered to your knees between his legs. His hand came to cup your cheek as you looked up at him, his thump pushing inside your mouth. You closed your lips around it, flicking your tongue over it. 

He smirked. 

„Imagined those lips around my cock so many times,“ he said, pulling his thumb out. 

„Yeah?“ You asked, your hand carefully wrapping around his cock. 

He hissed, his jaw clenching while he nodded. 

„Let me know if I live up to your Imagination,“ you said, your lips kissing the tip of his cock, humming as you licked your lips, tasting his precum. 

„Fuck me,“ he groaned and you grinned as you parted your lips to suck on the tip of his cock. 

Hallowing your cheeks you slowly took him deeper, humming at his taste. He was a bit thicker than Joel, maybe an inch or so smaller. Relaxing your jaw you took him deeper, bobbing your head slowly as you sucked him off. Your hands resting on his thighs, digging into his skin. 

The noises he made were downright sinful, your pussy clenching around nothing. 

His hand came to rest on the back of your head, his fingers pulling your hair a little. 

„You can fuck her mouth. She loves it,“ Joel said from behind you and you moaned. 

„That so?“ Frank asked and you blinked your eyes, nodding with his cock in your mouth, humming around it. 

You felt Joel’s hand on the back of your neck and you looked up finding him hovering over you. 

„Come on, show him how much of a little cock slut you are,“ he said and you moaned, taking Frank’s cock deeper until your nose hit his pubic hair. 

You looked up at him, keeping him down your throat and he cursed before he began to fuck your mouth. Slowly at first, then getting rougher, the wet slurping of him fucking your mouth filling the room. 

„Fuck. You are good at that,“ he moaned, pulling out of your mouth. You smiled up at him, licking your lips. He got up to stand, pulling you up with him, kissing you hard. You moaned against his lips as you felt Joel on your back, kissing up your shoulder. 

Feeling four hands on you was a strange sensation. Someone was holding your tits in his hands, while other hands squeezed your ass. Frank’s tongue slipped into your mouth and you let yourself relax against Joel’s strong chest. 

„You can fuck her. But don’t cum inside of her,“ Joel hummed against your skin, kissing up your neck. 

You loved when he got a little possessive.

Frank parted from your lips, one of his hands holding your face as he looked at you, dark eyes fixed on yours. Joel’s hand slipped between your legs, his fingers playing with your clit. 

„Want me to fuck you?“ Frank asked. You nodded, pecking his lips. You turned your head to the side, Joel’s lips finding yours before you watched him kiss Frank, your pussy clenched at watching them kiss.

„Get on the bed. On your back. Wanna look at you when I make you cum,“ Frank rasped and you nodded. He took a step back and you got on the bed, flooded with confidence you spread your legs, laughing when he crawled over to you, kissing your lips. You felt the bed dip on your side and then there was Joel. 

His warm body against your side. 

Frank’s hands were on your thighs, pushing them apart as he kissed down your body. His lips closing around your nipple. 

„So fucking perfect. You’re a lucky bastard Miller,“ he said, flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

Instead of answering Joel leaned in and kissed you, humming against your lips. He deepened the kiss, his hand squeezing one of your tits. 

You felt Frank line up between your folds, the head of his cock slipping through your slick.

„She’s fucking soaked,“ he groaned and you sucked Joel’s lip between your lips as he parted from you. 

Frank rolled you to your side, so you were laying with him against your chest, one of his arms pulling you against him, and Joel behind you. You felt Joel’s hand on your stomach, his lips against your shoulder. 

Frank wrapped your leg above his, his cock between your legs.

„Want me to fuck you now?“ Frank asked, kissing you softly. 

„Please,“ you whimpered and he chuckled. 

„I got you,“ he cooed, parting your legs a little wider to make space for him, slowly sinking into your heat. 

You felt every inch of him, letting your head slowly fall back against Joel’s.

„Shit you’re so fucking wet. So warm,“ Frank groaned, slowly fucking into you. 

You moaned, closing your eyes. You felt Joel’s hand play with your tits and you reached behind, wanting to touch him. Opening your eyes you looked down and behind, finding Frank’s hand wrapped around Joel’s cock, slowly pumping his length all while he fucked you. 

„Fuck you’re both so hot,“ you whimpered and they chuckled. 

„You’re fucking breathtaking, baby,“ Joel hummed behind you and you whimpered. 

Frank began to fuck you harder, his thrusts hitting that spot inside of you, that made your whole body shake. 

„Oh, she’s close,“ Joel hummed and you felt his hand sneak between your legs, finding your clit, beginning to circle it. Frank’s hand was now on your hip, moving you against him. 

„Make her cum, Castle,“ Joel snarled. You reached your arm back, your fingers pushing into Joel’s hair, your fingernails scratching over his scalp. He kissed the side of your head, pinched your nipple and with the way Frank was fucking into you it was only seconds before you exploded, your orgasm making you cry out loudly.

„Fuck… Fuck,“ you heard Frank curse before he pulled out of you. Looking down you saw him jerking himself off before ropes of cum hit your stomach. You where still shaking from your orgasm when you felt Joel line himself up behind you and thrust into your still fluttering pussy. 

Your eyes closed, whimpering as Joel fucked into you hard and fast. 

„Always so fucking good for me,“ he groaned behind you and you moaned. Lips were on yours and you opened your eyes to find Frank kissing you. His hand now replacing Joel’s on your clit. 

„You gonna cum for him again?“ Frank rasped. 

„I can’t….“ You whimpered. 

„You can. Cum for me. Cum for me and I’ll fill this little pussy up. Just the way you like it, baby….“ Joel moaned behind you. 

„Fuck,“ you moaned.

Within minutes (or seconds or hours you weren’t sure anymore) you were coming again, clenching Joel’s cock so hard he chocked on a groan, fucking into you a couple more times until he twitched inside of you and filled you with his cum. 

„Oh fuck,“ you felt his forehead rest against the back of your head. 

„Oh fuck indeed,“ Frank said and you looked at him. 

You were a sweaty tangled mess of limbs and you could not remember the last time you felt so… satisfied. 

Still trying to fill your lungs with air you hissed when Joel slowly pulled out of you, feeling his cum dripping out of you. 

Humming, your eyes closed you snuggled into Joel’s chest, his arms around you and Frank hugging you both. 

You opened your eyes when you felt Frank move, giving you a shit eating grin as he slipped down the mattress, his face coming between your legs. You shuddered when you felt his tongue licking your pussy, cleaning you softly, humming like it was the most delicious meal. 

He pressed a kiss on your hip when he was finished, coming up to pull you close, leaning over your head to kiss Joel and then you. 

„That was….“ You began, trying to find words. 

„Should have done that sooner,“ Joel said and you chuckled. 

„Didn’t know that was an option,“ Frank said and you agreed. 

„Whatever my girl wants, she gets,“ Joel said, kissing your shoulder. 

You must have dozed of at some point, waking up cuddled against Joel’s chest, sheets covering your body. 

He was watching you. Joel had cleaned you up when Frank had said goodbye, not without telling him that it was time to get his head our of his ass and make things official with you. 

„Where’s Frank?“ You asked sleepily. 

„Left an hour ago. Told me to let you sleep,“ he whispered. 

You pouted. 

„Feel like I should have thanked him,“ you said and Joel chuckled. 

„You’ll see him next week. Bring him a fruit basked,“ he kissed your forehead. And you playfully slapped his chest. 

„Didn’t know you liked men too,“ you smiled. 

„What can I say? I’m full of surprises,“ he teased.

„Yes, yes you are,“ you sighed, kissing his chest. 

„Everything okay between us?“ You asked, half asleep. 

„Better than okay,“ he whispered just before you drifted back to sleep. 

A week later you were sitting at your desk in the trailer when the door opened and Joel walked in. He locked the door behind him and you grinned as he walked over. 

„Wanna have dinner with me tonight?“ He asked, as he walked over to you. 

„Like a date?“

„Like a date,“ he nodded, his hands coming to rest on your desk as he leaned towards you. 

„I’d like that,“ you whispered. 

„Great,“ he hummed, leaning down to kiss you softly. 

[fairyofshampgyu]

Now live! Stream: 1

Genre: smut, camboy au, college au

Pairing: camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: camboy, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, solo beomgyu, anal

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he even goes to the same uni as you, is in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 1.3k ?

Fucking finally.

You were now snug, comfy, and at home so you could watch your favourite thing every Thursday night, Angel313’s streams.

Some people had a weekly favourite drama, YouTuber, or whatever and you had your favourite camboy you loved to watch.

It started off about more than a year ago, you were horny and the porn you were trying to watch was just not to your liking at all (some of them you can’t believe would be to anyone’s liking), and so you stumbled across a site and that’s where you found Angel. He was much less popular back then and you were one of the very first viewers, you must brag. But ever since then, no matter how busy you are, you’ve always made sure to never miss his streams.

He’s just so good and exactly what you like and he never fails to get you turned on. He’s just so hot even though you’ve never seen his face since he covers it with a mask but his pretty body, his moans, when he cums, the different things he does to jerk himself off every week, it’s so perfect and mesmerising to watch him. You’ve never wanted to fuck someone so badly in your entire life.

But also the cute little conversations he has with his viewers before and after and him rambling about his day and what not. You know it’s really weird but you’re so attracted to him.

And here Angel was today, asking the viewers how their day has been and that he’s got a little surprise for them whilst he waits for more people to join.

When a fair amount of people have joined and he’s done with the initial small chat, he brings out a clear dildo you haven’t seen before, positioning it on the floor.

He’s wearing his pink and white thigh highs that he’s notorious for wearing and you can see his small waist and his stomach where his cute, pink belly button piercing is and then he slowly sinks down on the dildo and ever so slowly begins to fuck himself with it, little moans escaping and he gently begins to bounce on it. God, he’s so pretty.

His hand moves to his nipple and his other hand moves to lazily jerk the tip of his dick which only makes him moan further, brows furrowing and head throwing back as he fucks himself on the dildo at a more fast and steady pace.

You could see the many layers of lube lathered on the dildo as it came in and out of him whilst he moved up and down on it at a relentless speed, the sound it was making clear from even your headphones. Sight and sounds he’s making so lewd and filthy yet he still looks angelic, contrary to his name.

“Gonna come for you…Can I cum?” He looks towards the screen for a second and his inbox floods in with a series of Yes and so he strokes his dick and rides the dildo deeper, letting out one ultimate, gorgeous moan and a yelp before his cock squirts out all white, cum covering his tummy and his piercing and he’s a mess, panting.

Once he’s gotten over his high, he looks at the screen again. “Ooh yayy we made so much today! Thank you so much guys!” He exclaims, still dazed and exhausted.

You quickly type a response in the bar -

@seggsysax: You did so good today, Angel! Thanks for always doing the best streams ever!

He reads your comment aloud saying thank you as well as many other people who had tuned in today. He stays for a little while to chat and to ask what sort of stuff they want to see next time and then ends the stream for the week.

You log out and close you’re laptop, sighing. You’re pretty tired and you have a lecture in the morning.

You did in fact get some good sleep last night, waking up to the sound of your alarm that will forever be jarring and you get ready for the day, pulling on some clothes and grabbing breakfast.

It’s late autumn and so it’s pouring down with rain, soggy leaves scattering the street from the trees below everywhere, but luckily you have your umbrella and you play your favourite songs through your headphones, romanticising your walk to the uni which made it pretty pleasant.

Upon arriving in your lecture room, you take a seat, waiting for others to join. There’s a fair amount of people in your class considering it’s an arts based uni and is especially known to be the best place to go for Music. Once everyone’s settled down, your professor begins to teach his lesson about music theory and counterpoints which isn’t that fun.

Once the lesson ends, you pack up your laptop and notes but before you can leave, you hear your professor call out your name, “Y/n and Beomgyu, Could you guys stay behind for a second?”

You knit your brows, thinking of what your professor could possibly say to you. As far as you know, you haven’t been doing anything wrong. Could it be that one time when he set a jazz composition to be for 4 minutes and 30 seconds but yours was only 4 minutes and 25? Or maybe the time when you half-assed that essay on the shift towards the classical and romantic period?

“I have an opportunity for both of you if you’re willing. Since all performing arts do an annual Christmas performance, I selected you both to organise the music department’s for this year. As you know, I don’t just give it to anyone. I choose the best two in the department every year. It would be great experience and look great. You’ll be working together, bring together a bunch of people from music, pick and arrange a few Christmas songs, lighting, stage, sound. You’ll be the two heads. Of course there’ll be many other people organising but you will both be the heads and coordinate meetings with other members. You know the Christmas performances are highly anticipated from all and I expect it will be a fantastic one from you both this year as well, if you guys would like to?

You definitely did not expect that. Your professor chose you? You? To organise the music department’s Christmas performance? You can’t believe it. He always only ever gave it to his best students and to think it was you! How on earth? It was of such high prestige to organise that as well and the extra credit. Plus, it’d look good on your cv. You weren’t going to let your professor down.

“Of course we will!” The guy next to you says before you can. He’s just as ecstatic as you presume you look too.

You in fact know said guy - Choi Beomgyu. And you weren’t particularly fond of him. Whilst you didn’t know much about him, you heard enough to know that he was the campus fuckboy. Extremely cocky and a complete douche. You thought he’d be doing one of the sports based subjects. To find out he was in your music, you were beyond shocked. Even to this day you wonder how the hell he was in your class. He probably thought it would be easy or just doesn’t take it seriously.

And to think you were partnered up with him to organise this! Choi Beomgyu? You hardly doubt you’ll get anywhere with him or that he’d be of much help. Why would your professor pick him? You’re not looking forward to working with Choi Beomgyu at all.

Next Chapter

PLS REBLOG !! AND COMMENT !! ITS REALLY APPRECIATED & ENCOURAGING TYY 🙏😭<333

Taglist: @pogigyu @denleave1088 @mashimarshmello

A/n: first chap 💪💪 🤔 honestly don’t know what’s gonna happen with this series at all

Comment to be added to the taglist !!

[chiefdirector]

Shooting | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Three Years Ago

Tim took a deep breath as he prepared himself. In reality he knew that he would be fine, he had participated in raids like this one dozens of times, but it didn't stop the nerves coming up. He shot a glance to the line of officers behind him, and then he looked back in front of him. This time, instead of facing the back of a leather jacket, he made eye contact with (Y/N).

You okay? She mouthed, as not to alert anyone in the vicinity of their location with the sound of conversation. 

Yes. Tim replied, nodding alongside his silent confirmation.

I love you.

I love you too.

Within less than a moment's notice, the senior officer on site gave the visual go ahead for the raid to start. Tim followed closely behind his wife as they, alongside Metro and a SWAT team, rushed forward to ambush the residents in the house.

From the streets, the house seemed like any other in its neighbourhood. The exterior walls were neat and tidy, the garden was something to be proud of, not a flaw in sight. The property seemed as if it had come straight from a Home-Owners Association’s dream. The inside was of a similar manner, it was modern, clean, and bright. It was pristine, except from the methamphetamine laboratory in the back half of the residence. 

The cartel that used the residence as a home base clearly had no clue of the raid happening until the moment they penetrated the doors of the property. Pretty quickly the quiet and serene neighbourhood was filled with the sounds of glass smashing and bullets being fired. Tim fluidly moved through the house, keeping his six covered as he tried to locate the boss’s wife who was supposedly here. 

The boss was out of town on business, leaving only his partner to run the business in his absence. It gave Sargent Grey and his cohort the perfect time to try to shut down the operation. 

“Lopez,” Tim whispered to the officer next to him. Once her eyes were on him, he gestured to the door at the end of the corridor. Lopez moved forward to position herself to open the door and counted down from three with one hand, the other still clutching her weapon. 

They burst through the door, guns held high as they entered the office. The office was the only room in the house that wasn't immaculate. Papers were strung across the desk, with nearly twice as much spread messily across the floor. The drawers in the cabinet behind the desk looked as if hastily opened with little regard to what was inside. The lamp in the far corner was smashed to pieces; it was mostly covered by a small woman standing in front of it.

She stood tall and proud. Her face was like stone, and her eyes were cold. Recognition instantly crossed Tim and Angela’s faces: the wife. She was not what they were expecting. Reports had described her as timid and mild, someone who would be easy to get to cooperate with their case.

“LAPD. Drop the gun!” Tim said, keeping his gun held high, holding his aim at the wife’s shoulder.

The woman kept her weapon held high. 

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Lopez said, taking a small step closer to the woman. “Just drop the gun and we can resolve this nicely.”

“And if I don't?” The woman scoffed. 

Lopez took another couple of steps,getting closer as she spoke. “Let's not go down the road. It’ll be easier if you cooperate ma’am.”

Quickly, the woman turned to face Lopez, her gun aimed at her face. Before she had time to pull her trigger, Tim shot a single round into her shoulder. The woman ricocheted backwards, the gun dropping from her grasp as she fell. Blood spilled from her shoulder running down her dress turning the material from white to crimson. She hit the ground heavily as her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness. Lopez moved quickly to remove the gun from reach before getting down to the woman’s side. She motioned for Tim to join her.

As Angela started to put pressure on the bullet wound, Tim reached for his radio. “I need an additional RA Unit for a woman, mid-thirties, with a gunshot wound. Unconscious but breathing.” He placed the radio back on his belt before kneeling down next to Angela. “You alright?”

“Yeah I’m good,” She stopped talking for a moment, listening to the sounds around them in the rest of the property. “It sounds like it’s quieting down. We better wait here though.”

Tim stood up. “You're right. Do you think there is anything to help stop the bleeding… First aid kit maybe?”

At his question, Tim heard a familiar chuckle coming from the door. Even though he recognised the voice, he still turned suddenly and took his gun out again, his mind and body still on the defensive. 

“This place was a meth lab and you think they cared enough about health and safety for a first aid kit?” (Y/N) walked into the office, looking around at the carnage that had taken place here. “This is going to be a headache to sort through in evidence later.”

“(Y/N), why are you here? Are you okay?” Tim moved towards his wife, eyes looking frantically up and down to check her for any injuries. She looked fine, except for a little graze on her forehead but that wasn’t anything that Tim couldn't take care of later. He stopped himself though, clocking how frantic his words sounded. Remedying that, he took a deep breath and continued. “Has everyone else been taken-”

“Hey, hey hey.” Lopez interrupted, bringing the Bradfords’ attention to her. “She’s awake again.”

Tim nodded, moving towards the door, somewhat satisfied to know that (Y/N) was okay. “That’s good, you two wait here, I’m going to see if the RA Unit is here yet.”

(Y/N) hummed in agreement as her husband left. She spared a glance his way before drawing her attention to Angela and the bleeding lady. “Ma’am? Ma’am.” She said, squatting down to her side. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Regina.” The woman spat.

“Right Regina, you’re under arrest. You will be taken to the hospital before being processed.” Angela said, still maintaining pressure on Regina’s shoulder even though she squirmed underneath her.

Regina gritted her teeth, (Y/N) couldn't tell if it was in pain or anger. The bleeding woman cried out as she turned her head to fully focus on (Y/N). “He will pay for this. You all will. He doesn't know what he has done. He shot me and my husband will make him pay.”

Part Four | Part Six

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424

Tags are open :)

[the-guilty-writer]

Everywhere

Request from anon: You asked for requests for Morgan and i shall deliver! i love that man so much, he is too underrated. 

How about Morgan with a reader who is trying to hide/push trough a work injury? maybe reader doesnt even realise how bad their injure really is untill he points it out? 

bonus points if reader nearly faints :))

Derek Morgan x GN!platonic!reader

Summary: Reader tries to push through a work injury, only to have it hit them at one of the worst times.

A/N: more blurb length, but oh well. Was gonna make it fluffy and it ended up being angsty, but oh well again. 

CW: Spitballs, reader gets stabbed, reader and Morgan are both wearing guns, Morgan uses his, reader almost faints (bonus points)

---

When you applied to the FBI Academy, you were well aware of what you were signing up for - not just the 20 weeks of intensive training, but the job that would come after. You thought your first job as a S.W.A.T. agent would be the most dangerous, but when you joined the BAU a few years later, you realized there was a whole world of hurt out there you hadn’t seen.

When you entered the unsubs house, you’d been prepared for many things: a hand-to-hand take down, a knife, even a gun to be pointed towards your face. What you hadn’t been prepared for was a spit bill.

Yep. It was a little round wad of chewed up paper that did you in. The unsub managed to land it right in your eye, catching you off guard. Then they moved in with an expected attack and you found yourself with a knife in your shoulder, on your dominant side, no less.

That was months ago. You were finally allowed back in the field after being cleared by two different doctors and a physical therapist. The most recent cases hadn’t been heavy on the tactical side, and the team made sure to put you in the “easiest” position possible. You were hardly having to take painkillers. All seemed well.

It wasn’t usual for the team to be on a case for more than three or four days at a time, but it happened, and after spending your fifth night on a bad hotel mattress, you admitted (but only to yourself) that the pain in your shoulder was more intense than usual. As the day went on, it only intensified, and you didn’t want to cloud your brain with medication.

“You okay?” Morgan asked, when you climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV. Hotch had tasked the two of you with interviewing a potential witness.

“Of course,” you said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Morgan blinked. “You’re opening doors with your better shoulders and you winced when you got into the car,” he said.

“Just a little sore,” you replied.

Morgan didn’t believe you for a second, but he let it go.

---

The last thing you expected when Morgan pulled over to park in front of the witness’s house was to see the unsub making a run for it down the street.

“Morgan!” you pointed to the man running down the street. The surge of adrenaline triggered the instinct of raising your bad arm. Pain radiated from the site of your injury, around your back, and into your spine. You tried best not to let it show on your face.

“I see him,” Morgan replied. He whipped the SUV onto the front lawn. The sudden movement of the car caused the agony to spread further through your body.

Still, you didn’t hesitate to jump out of the car, adding another impact to the injury. When Morgan sprinted down the sidewalk, you followed him. Every movement of your arm built a silent scream in your chest. The force of your feet hitting the pavement as you ran amplified the sensation. The sidewalk came to a corner, and you reached towards the holster on your hip, only to see black as you tried to wrap your fingers around the grip.

Your body had enough. Weakened knees crumbled and you staggered down to the pavement. Ever exhausted lungs heaved and gasped as vocal chords that were suppressing howls of hurt strained to stay silent. Your fingers were spread wide to keep you steady, palms pressed bloody on the rough cement to keep you upright. Three shots rang through the air and echoed in your ears long after the sounds should have been gone.

“Hey,” Morgan’s voice broke through the noise. Gentle hands supported you onto your knees. “Hey, look at me.”

Somehow you gathered the strength to look at him. “Tell me where it hurts.”

“The unsub-”

“Tell me,” Morgan cut you off, “where it hurts.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. The knot in your throat unraveled. Tears spilled from your eyes. You collapsed into strong, protective arms. 

“Everywhere.” You only had the strength to whisper. “It hurts everywhere.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Sorry if this isn't allowed but this is less AITA, and more 'would i be the asshole' but... you can take it as a hypothetical as if I did to keep with the format..

So I'm a lurker who [re]joined tumblr not to long ago after deleting my account years ago (not a twitter migrant, i've never even used twitter. just got severe harassment for being aspec during the height of exclusionist discourse and moved to lurking on reddit).

Now I have a very bad memory so I forgot about the bot problem entirely. At first so I followed like 300+ blogs with default profile pic and everything. The whole shebang. Now I'm doing a lot better with not lurking, though I still only reblog art. None of it has been remotely controversial to my knowledge. In fact at first it was only fanart of one specific character so I don't thing this is a controversial ship thing either

During the aforementioned initial period of only reblogging art of my blorbo (am I using that correctly?) I was checking out a blog I wanted to follow and I see blorbo fanart. It was very well done and I wanted to see what other art was made by OP but when I clicked on their blog tumblr said the blog didn't exist. Some googling later and I learned that meant I had been blocked.

At the time I discovered I was blocked, it should be noted I had 0% discourse, and had never talked to anyone on this site anyways. Just pictures of a character OP of the art had drawn. So as far as I know they don't have any reason to block me other than looking like a bot initially. Which I know is on me of course, but if this can be rectified I'd like to do so... although anyone can block for any reason of course.

But let's say hypothetically I reached out in spite of the block. I think I'd have to make another account or ask someone else to message the artist for me. So let's say I do the latter, AITA for trying to clear up this misunderstanding? The artist, in spite of it likely being misunderstanding, still went through the effort to block me

Also apologies to AITA Official if this sort of thing is not allowed. I will understand if you don't post this because of that

What are these acronyms?

[ramp-it-up]

I Still Have You

Paring: Chris Evans x Reader

Word count: 1.5 K

Summary: It’s a very pregnant Christmas for the Evanses.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI. RPF, SMUT. Not Beta’d. Flashbacks, discussion of miscarriages, grief, angst, beach vacay, piggy back ride, Kit cooking, family dynamics. Graphic depiction of pregnancy sex. Dunkin’. But mostly fluffy fluff.

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask. Also listen. Look me in my eyes. This was not easy for me to write and I don’t want to see any dumb comments about miscarriages. Heed the warnings. This is a part of the How I Met Your Father AU.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Chris’s hand snaked around your baby bump and pulled you flush against his chest. You snuggled back against him and his hard body.

“Hmmmmm…G’morning.”

Chris buried his nose in your fragrant curls, your bonnet having come off in your sleep. You were less able to be comfortable as your pregnancy progressed, but luckily this pregnancy was healthy, despite the worry of the first few weeks.

You’d lost two pregnancies since you had the twins 12 years ago. You and Chris had been heartbroken, but decided not to try again and that your family was complete. You loved and lived life to the fullest.

However, when the twins were 12 years old, you discovered through a home pregnancy test that you were expecting again. It was right before your family trip last summer, and you were on edge for the first few days of the vacation.

You decided to tell Chris as you walked on the beach on the second evening.

“I have a secret to tell you, Chris.”

“What is it, Angel?”

Chris was a little concerned, you’d been jittery and moody. He stopped and looked at you in the light of the golden hour. You were so beautiful.

“Is everything okay?”

He reached for you and pulled you into his embrace. You relaxed into his strength, his warmth, and his smell. And you started crying.

“Chris. I…I’m… I’m”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I know you’ve been stressed. What with the new position, the twins going to junior high and your cousin’s graduation and this trip.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“I see how exhausted you’ve been, falling asleep on the couch every night. That’s why I had hoped that you would take this opportunity to relax…”

“Chris. I’m pregnant.”

Chris didn’t believe he’d heard you. Your last pregnancy was over five years ago. He’d gone ten toes down for his perfect little family. And he didn’t know if he could go through that loss again. He knew you couldn’t.

Chris drew back to look you in the eye.

“What did you say?”

You looked into the deep blue pools of his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

“But… how?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He joined you.

“I mean…”

He grinned at you, your laughter making him stronger.

“Well, you’ve always had that super soldier sperm. And it’s rare, but vasectomies can fail…”

Chris just blinked at you.

“Oh my god. We’re gonna have another baby. When?”

Chris was absolutely giddy.

“I haven’t been to the doctor, but maybe in about eight months? January?”

Chris was still in shock.

“Boy or girl? Twins or just one?”

“Yep!”

You both broke down in laughter. You were beginning to think you could do this.

A jolt of joy suddenly struck Chris. He couldn’t wallow in grief; this was another chance.

He picked you up and twirled you around.

“CHRIS! CHRIS! I’m gonna throw up!”

You were laughing, but also about to hurl.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I just. I love you so much. And I love us. And the twins. And this bundle of joy in here.”

Chris’s warm palm covered your belly, and you reached up to kiss him, for a moment, all fear of loss gone.

He beamed down at you and you up at him.

“I love you too, Chris.”

You smiled at him again, and then hugged him.

“How are you? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!”

Chris looked back down the beach.

“It’s too far for you to walk back.”

“No, I’m…”

He turned around and bent down. He looked back at you over his shoulder.

“Get on.”

“Chris, you’re being…”

“Get on, Y/N.”

You sighed and climbed on his back. Chris easily stood up and set off toward the beach house. You put your chin in his shoulder and started to think as he effortlessly carried you back.

“Chris…”

“I know. We’ll wait until we go to the doctor to tell anyone.”

You nodded, grateful for the connection between you and your husband. After you told Chris, you were able to relax and enjoy the rest of the trip.

Telling the twins after you were past the 12 week mark was an experience.

“You two are disgusting.”

“Wynn Angel Evans! You need to watch your tone.”

“I’m sorry. But aren’t you both a little old for this?

Chris wasn’t having it.

“Do you want to go to your room until you’re as old as we are?”

Wynn got quiet, not used to harsh words from her dad. CJ was just silent. You sensed some warring emotions in him. You two had always been close. He looked at you with those eyes just like his dad’s and you knew. You cocked your head and CJ came to give you a hug. You held your arm out for Wynn, who sat on the other side of you, between you and Chris.

“Listen. I know this is a lot. And you’re right, I am older, but I’m not that old. But dad is.”

You nudged Wynn and laughed as Chris protested.

“Hey!”

Now there was laughter in the room.

“And neither of you have to worry that you will be replaced. We will love you forever. Our hearts will just get bigger.”

You looked from twin to twin.

“Yours will, too.”

Everyone calmed down a bit after that, catching the joy of a new life in the house. You took a sabbatical from work in order to take care of yourself.

That was over six months ago. You’d had a healthy pregnancy and were excited to meet the new member of the Evans family. At Christmas you were 37 weeks. So close.

You snuggled back onto Chris’s erection as he gently felt up your sensitive breasts. Your nipples pebbled as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“What are you up to, Daddy?”

You felt Chris’s dick jump against your backside.

“I’m trying to make you feel good. Give you an extra present after yesterday’s festivities.”

Chris’s hand moved down your side and slid under your belly to slip his thick fingers into your panties.

You moaned as he found you wet and wanton, moving against his hand for more friction.

Chris gently but down on your pulse point, causing you to keen.

“Chris…”

“What do you want, Angel? What do you need?”

Chris was grinding against your panties, the wet tip of his cock promising something that he had yet to give you.

“You, Chris, Please…”

“Oh My beautiful girl, you don’t need to beg. This is always for you.”

As he whispered praises in your ear, Chris was lifting your thigh, pulling your panties to the side, and slowly entering you while laying down

“Oooohhhh….”

You arched and threw your head back onto Chris’s chest. The shudder as he entered you was inescapable.

“Dammmmmnnnnn, Angel. So so tight.”

Chris was fully seated inside of you and gripping your hip to keep control.

Lovemaking wasn’t vigorous anymore, but it was needed. And you knew that It would be a while after the baby came. You wanted to savor this connection.

“Ohhhh. Chrissy. Please. Give it to me…”

“Nnnnnnnghhhh!”

Chris moaned.

“You always have me wanting to lose control. Lose myself in you… My favorite thing.”

“Hmmmmm.”

You licked your lips as Chris started moving, him looking down over your shoulder as he watched you cream on his dick in the early morning light.

“Even after all these years?”

The kiss he gave you on your cheek would have been chaste, except that his huge cock was invading your fat, swollen, sensitive cunt.

“For many more to come, god willing.”

Chris started pumping a little harder now.

“Please, I want to die like this..”

Chris kissed the side of your neck as he rocked his cock deep inside you and his words made your heart swell and beat in time with his, and you started to climax.

“Ohhhh…ohhhhhhh, ohhhhh! Chris!”

“God you’re squeezing me… I can’t. I can’t hold it damn you make me…”

Chris thrusted for dear life as he emptied his seed into you. He lazily thrummed your clit, causing you to shudder as you came down.

A few minutes later, Chris carefully slipped out of you and led you to the shower, where he lovingly washed you both up. Your eyelids were drooping.

“Get some rest, mama. I’ll get you some food.”

One hour later, your growling stomach and kicking kid propelled you out of bed to the kitchen, where you caught the tail end of an argument between Chris and Kit who had come to Massachusetts with your family for Christmas. Wynn and CJ were watching, enthralled.

Someone (you guessed Kit) had tried to make pancakes in the microwave. What resulted was a rubbery mess.

“You really can’t cook, can you?”

Chris was grumbling as he cleaned up the mess.

“No shit, Sherlock. When in the 13 years that you’ve known me, have you known me to cook?”

Chris scowled.

“Then why did you say yes when I asked you to make breakfast for your best friend?”

“Because I will do anything for her. And don’t you forget it, Dude Bro.”

Kit was threatening Chris with a rubber pancake.

“How ‘bout we go to Dunkin’?”

You chuckled as you rescued your husband from certain doom.

Less than 24 hours later, Jack Arthur Evans was born, healthy at 7 lbs 8 oz two days after Christmas.

The moment everyone met him, no one could imagine the world without him.

When in doubt, reblog it out!

[volkodava]

Hello my Tumblr friends! Some of you liked the idea of Postapocalypse!AU, as well as the Junpei design I drew earlier. So I pulled myself together and drew portraits for the entire main cast of characters. I must say that they here are closer to the age of P4AU. It was challenging but fun to come up with designs and backstories for them that overlapped with the originals. Although I still haven't thought through some details… But I hope you will enjoy!

FeMC/Minako/Kotone

Yes, this AU uses a female protagonist. She emerged from the Wasteland and all she knows is that she had some important mission. She is cheerful and always believes in the best. There are "XXII"-shaped scars on both sides of her head, similar to a brand. She seems to know what this is supposed to mean, but she won't tell anyone.

Status: Unknown

Yukari

The best long-range power of SEES. She lost her father due to the fault of Mitsuru's father. She was looking for Mitsuru to take revenge, but instead she found her best friend. She can often be bitchy and sometimes too straightforward, but no one heals other people’s wounds better than her. She received a scar on her face from an unsuccessfully broken bow string.

Status: Alive

Junpei

He makes bad jokes and swears a lot to hide his insecurities. Creates chaos almost everywhere it appears. He seems rude and ill-mannered, although he is a hopeless romantic at heart. But if you really make him angry, he destroys everything in his path (ask Takaya and Jin, oh no, sorry, no one will ask them anymore). Ultimately, his concern for Chidori allows him to shed his clown mask and show a different side of himself.

Status: Alive

Fuuka

A mechanic girl found by SEES in a sand labyrinth. She suffers from strabismus, but this did not stop her from completely restoring Aigis and collecting several more useful items for SEES. Has a phenomenal memory. Probably the only one who never started a conflict first.

Status: Alive

Aigis/A.I.G.I.S.

Initially, it was a cleaning robot, on which someone put a yellow wig and a ribbon. It rusted in a landfill for a long time until FeMС found it. Gradually he begins to become interested in the world around him and acquires a desire to find out what a person is and how to be one.

Status: Functioning

Mitsuru

Official leader of SEES. Several years ago, during a shelter fire, she lost her father and was injured herself. She hides the burned part of her face under her hair. She is cold and difficult to compromise, but always acts as a negotiator between gangs of raiders, trying to extract the maximum benefit. Has many useful connections in Port Island.

Status: Alive

Akihiko

Fan of fights without rules. More reasonable and less impulsive than Junpei, but if the two of them are together, then somewhere nearby there is trouble that they got into. Lost his little sister in a shelter fire and still tries to drown out those memories with alcohol. He often misses Shinjiro. Perhaps he was Mitsuru's partner a couple of times, but in the Wasteland no one cares who sleeps with whom.

Status: Alive

Shinjiro

A wandering raider that periodically joins SEES and then leaves. Akihiko's former friend. Little emotional. Lost an eye in one of the raider skirmishes. He tends to evaluate people by their usefulness to society, but in the end he admits that he was wrong too often. For some time he was dependent on Strega's help, but later this developed into enmity. Alas, this did not end well.

Status: Dead

Ken

Practically the “son of the regiment”, he was found at one of the temporary sites along with the body of his deceased mother and taken into the care of SEES. Refused to move to Port Island, choosing to stay in the shelter. Having already seen a lot of things he shouldn't have seen, he wants to become stronger to change the world. Gets close to Shinjiro, reading him as a fatherly/brotherly figure. Nevertheless, he gets very angry when he is overprotected.

Status: Alive

Koromaru

Good boy. One day he just showed up at the shelter and everyone just accepted it. He warned everyone about the attacks several times, after which he received a collar and his own bowl. A good fighter, he always follows those who go on forays into the Wasteland. Perhaps the only one who simply enjoys life.

Status: Alive

[wifegideonnav]

No but literally not even 10 years ago, ask blogs for characters were a MAJOR major thing on tumblr and it's so sad that cringe culture really pummeled everyone here so hard that we all just stopped doing fun things and interacting beyond likes and reblogs

literally!! i joined the site in early 2016 and the amount of silly fun that people had back then is so much compared to what we’ve got going on. and even that was less than in the years preceding from what i’ve heard. and to be honest i think it’s in big part because the users started taking themselves and their experience more seriously. don’t get me wrong, i much prefer the site’s culture in 2024 to what it was like when i joined, but there’s really something to be said about how pretentious everyone got (for lack of a better word) and how the way that people have shifted towards posting more serious or academic or artsy things means that they seem less approachable now. nowadays everyone seemingly wants to come across as smart and sane and worldly. whereas before, you got followers by being weird and hyper and excited about things, and by interacting with as many people as you could!! and ofc i think it also has to do with the average age on here going up, because it’s a lot easier to just interact with people and be energetic when you’re 13 as opposed to 23. (not even factoring in increasing demands on your time and energy as an adult.)

and not to say that people aren’t silly and weird and willing to be cringe now! but it’s in such a different way that it doesn’t really build site-wide community. idk i think if people want this site to stay fun like this we need to all get re-used to just randomly dming people and striking up a conversation, sending mundane asks, tagging people in shit, REBLOGGING posts we like, etc

[koqabear]

Hmmm, I'm really into fantasy. As for groups, I stan a lot (probably too many), so you could recommend any 😭

Also, what do you mean?!😭 Your personality is just so 💜💜💜!! Like I have never admired a stranger so much in my entire life 😭😭😭

-Lvlee

hi loveee !! so as it turns out,,, making a rec list is very hard. very. i've read a lot less fics than i thought omg (which is why all the ones i listed are on the older side LMAO), so i am here with some txt and bts recs 😭 they're mostly supernatural/fantasy, but you can always check out my main blog (@/michipan) if you wanna see anything else!

also 🫠 please.... im sobbing rn u are the cutest ever </3 i am nothing but a silly little normal person i promise

to anyone who decides to check out these recs, pleeeeaaase support the authors!! please im genuinely begging you!!! leave a little review and a reblog and show them love bc they're amazing <3

BTS Recs

☆ Beastly Gods by @lemonjoonah

✧ hybrid!taehyung x fem!reader x ???

wc: 8K // genre: hybrid au, thirller, drama, smut, potentially dark and triggering content so read the warnings carefully!

Summary: ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you’ve been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

sol's personal notes:

oh. my. GOD. this was one of the first few fics i read when i joined this site, and it's literally stuck with me ever since. i can't say too much about it without spoiling it, but the worldbuilding and pacing was just. immaculate. the storyline is so well done and just. everything about it is perfection omg. there's another part that goes along with this story, but i can't link it bc ofc... spoilers 😖i wish i had more to say about this fic, but i read it years ago and forgot to write a review for it T_T

☆ Treasure by @sombreboy

✧ faerie dragon hybrid!jimin x fem!reader

wc: 4.7K // genre: pwp smut, hybrid, yandere, fairytale, again potentially dark and triggering content so read the warnings carefully!

Summary: Jimin loves to collect sparkly riches and playthings. You just happen to be the next treasure that ignited his obsessive desires.

sol's personal notes:

(fucking explodes into a million pieces) i can't. i had to reread this story real quick to get a refresher on it and just. jimin's character in this is literally so perfect and mischievous and evil!! and i love it... <3 he is characterized so well and the descriptions are just so well done... ouuu i just read over the smut again and i teared up a little. the dialogue is genuinely so insane im not normal abt this fic sorry.

TXT Recs

☆ the prince and the jackal by @gyuluster

✧ prince!beomgyu x woodcutter!metalbender!reader

wc: 11.8k // genre: fantasy au, fluff

Summary:  in the Kingdom of Terrae, you, a metalbender, believe in the deforestation to modernise the land. As a member of the Lumberjackals, you thrive on cutting down trees and stealing resources until you get caught by the Crown Prince, Choi Beomgyu, a lover and embodiment of the nature you wish to destroy. However, instead of imprisoning you for your crimes, Beomgyu decides to show you the beauty and wonders of nature, leaving you to doubt your beliefs, your identity, and your very feelings for the certain boy determined to change you for the better.

sol's personal notes:

unfortunately the author is no longer active on this account (💔💔💔💔) but like. this story literally changed my brain chemistry i dont think you guys understand. it's been so long since i read this but even so, it lives on in my mind... the world building and characters are so well done and from what i remember, beomgyu's character was literally so charming T_T such a pretty story, i might go reread this bc like... the fantasy was executed so well and i love me a good royalty au <3 not to mention the whole concept of the powers is so cool!

☆ Swimmin' in a Mirror by @bangchanswolfpelt

✧ soobin x2 x fem!reader (stay with me here)

wc: 2.5K // genre: magical school au (not a harry potter au) smut

Summary unavailable.

sol's personal notes:

this one's like a whole 180 from the last fic LMAO but GOOD GOD. this author isn't active anymore from what i know of but like. they were literally revolutionary and this fic is just. never seen anything like this before but )#%(&#%??? it's genuinely so impressive how they managed to pull this off alkghadg so hot so insane so creative

☆ that's the spirit! by @agustdiv1ne

✧ sixth sense/ ghost hunter! soobin x fem!reader

wc: 14.6K // genre: high school au, fluff, angst, some elements of horror

Summary: a couple weeks before halloween, you find the quiet boy from your high school staring up into your bedroom. you're a little creeped out, and miles more scared, but then he shows you something that changes how you see, well, everything.

sol's personal notes:

are we surprised. i don't think so. i literally never shut up about this fic ever like i'm such a sucker for unique stories and this is definitely one of them! the pacing, supernatural elements, and environment was written sooo well, and the worldbuilding and explanations that comes along with the plot is so perfectly executed and well thought out. such a cool story, with a banger playlist to go along with it :]

☆ Dirty Little Secret by @petrichor-han

✧ vampire! yeonjun x gn!witch!reader

wc: 4.0K // genre: angst, dark fantasy, vampire!au, witch!au, enemies to lovers

Summary: yeonjun is one of prince seungmin’s most trusted bodyguards. born as a low-class vampire, he worked his way to the top and is proud of his accomplishments, beginning to adapt his friends’ classist mindsets and forgetting where he came from. but when his brothers come to visit one day, exposing his poor ancestry, everyone turns against him except for one: a lowly servant whom he’d picked on in the past—you.

sol's personal notes:

are you kidding me. DARK FANTASY. yeah that's literally all it took for me to fall in love with this story; the imagery is beautiful and the storytelling is so heart wrenching and good and i am literally clawing at the bars of my enclosure rn btw. this fic is sososo good and i'd literally kill to get another morsel from this universe !

⭒⭒⭒

✧ again, make sure to show all these lovely authors some love!! if any of you manage to see this (unlikely. for the most part) i literally cherish these stories sm and would literally die for them idcidc u guys truly made some masterpieces over here ✧

[bluebird722]

Attack on Titan: Beyond the Tree on That Hill

Summary: All it takes is love to rebuild and grow in the aftermath of devastation.

Rating: T

Main Pairings: Jeankasa, AruAni

Author’s note: I know the finale aired a few months ago, but this idea has been stewing in the back of my head since then. However, I experienced a personal loss before the new year, so I figured that now was the best time to share this with readers who either loved or hated the finale, but may have wanted more on what happened to the characters. 

Also, I don’t primarily ship the main pairing of this series of drabbles, but reading fanfiction and studying fanart has made it grow on me. I’ve even linked certain paragraphs to inspiring fanart. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed thinking of it. 

Special acknowledgement to:  @azulmarina3, @poroverso, @itslieutenanthawkeye, @smallblip, and @k-lionheart-art and @marshmallow-rainbow139!

***Attack on Titan: Beyond the Tree on That Hill***

It was bittersweet, how everyone had come to the final burial site. No matter how they felt about Eren before the rumbling, while they were still new to the cadets, the atmosphere felt peaceful the way that he would have wanted it. The day that the ambassadors had returned, they woke up and made the pilgrimage to the giant tree where he liked to rest as a child. 

Each one had brought flowers to lay down, and they stood in silence for about two hours. So much had changed since the Rumbling, for better and worse. International relations, so far, seemed to be growing, but the Yeagerists were still trying to gain more power and influence within the island. The economy was regrowing stronger than before, but so many people were still struggling to make ends meet. 

When the group agreed to return to their hotel, Mikasa joined them but spent the afternoon on the balcony to enjoy the sunshine while the others napped. She didn’t want to think at that time about the past or the future; she really wanted to enjoy the present and how many lives were still rebuilding. Below her, many children were still laughing and talking as they ran errands for their parents, and couples, old and young, walked together, holding hands. It was a sight she cherished and envied. 

Then she sensed a physical presence behind her, who walked onto the balcony. Though his clothes under his suit were unorderly, Jean looked more refreshed than when he stepped off the steamboat. He offered her a glass bottle of water and asked if he could sit beside her. She more or less allowed him to. 

The calm moment between them ended in two hours, after he put his hand on her bare wrist under her sleeve. She pretended not to feel surprise and confusion at this touch but looked down anyway. Jean lifted the corner of his mouth. “You know that you don’t have to share your feelings,” he said, “but you don’t have to hide them anymore.”

“I know,” she said so quietly that he barely heard her. When the sun began to set and the wind picked up, he took off his jacket, which he put around her shoulders so she didn’t have to retreat back inside. The interior was so warm that she almost began to sweat. Then he brought her downstairs for dinner and helped her order food for the others when they woke. 

***

Although Mikasa considered it “courtship”, it certainly was unlike how she imagined a test for lifelong companionship. In that time, he formally introduced her to his mother, who embraced her despite her soft features hiding nearly a lifetime of stoicism and trauma. She listened to every story–funny and embarrassing–that his mother remembered from his youth. He never pushed her to laugh, but he did like to say things to make her smile. They compared their own methods of chores, such as laundry, and elected to follow whichever seemed the best, even if it was more time consuming. Over time, he rediscovered his interest in sketching and spent free time charcoaling the wilderness or the neighborhood. She liked to watch over his shoulder and happily posed for him one sunny afternoon.

They had stayed outside longer so he could capture in charcoal as much of the sunset as he could. Mikasa shared with him the embroidery from her childhood that she thought about picking back up, whether or not she had children. He knew that talking about her youth before her parents’ murder was still painful for her, and she shared the full story of how Eren saved her. 

His thumbs wiping her cheeks were so tender that she slowly stopped weeping. She hated the sad look in his eyes. “Remember,” he said, “you should miss him. Don’t ever feel like you have to pretend that you do not.” He took a deep breath. “I know that I’m not him,” he added, “but I would give you anything in the world so you know that you are loved and deserve–”

“Loved?” she repeated back.

Jean went still. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “I…I love you. I’ve felt that since we were in training…”

Slowly, Mikasa leaned closer and kissed him. Jean’s chest had an exploding sensation. He could not believe that he was actually kissing her, nor that it was much superior to how he fantasized. She delicately put her hand on his shoulder, and he cupped her cheek in one hand so they wouldn’t break apart as the sun disappeared for the time being.  

Six months into their romantic relationship, they rented an apartment together but did not progress to anything more than kisses and strong hugs. Regardless of fatigue or cold, Jean was always glad to heat up tea for her late at night or sit outside on the balcony with her when she missed Eren too much. It was strange, for him, to see her allow herself to become more vulnerable, like the warrior that she was slowly showing the “human” side of her. He did not speak unless prompted; he memorized every dream that she recollected to him and every memory of Eren that she almost forgot. Somehow, Jean knew that this was part of her healing and over time trusted her with his own memories, what he missed from his boyhood and even incidents in the cadets that he did not want to remember but could not forget. 

It wasn’t him, she knew, but they became closer than she had been with the boy who liked to pick fights with the one who saved her life, and the man who sided with her as she took down her idea of a life partner.

When they eventually married, only Jean wore his military uniform; Mikasa decided, after all, that she did want to wear a white gown. White, after all, was the color of purity and renewal, people said. She wanted to be a symbol of positive change and remind everyone that good was growing like a flower. Historia and Pieck styled her hair to resemble the former’s and clipped her bangs to her crown. Annie handmade her bouquet with wildflowers, and Historia’s daughter carried the back of her gown on her way to the small chapel.

Yes, I wish it would have been Eren, she thought to herself. I would have wanted nothing more than to meet him inside and pledge the rest of my life to him. She looked down at the flowers she clutched and felt pressure grow in her ears. But it’s not him. 

Then the doors opened, and she reluctantly looked up. No, the man waiting for her inside did not have dark hair or wide eyes, nor was he the one who saved her from slavery and gave her the scarf that she secretly wore around her waist under the gown. She took a deep breath and made her way forward. 

Suddenly, she felt an invisible presence at her left, like Eren had appeared out of nowhere and was guiding her to the woman-obsessed soldier ahead. Then Mikasa smiled and let her eyes water. She clutched her bouquet and timidly smiled at Jean, who looked so different from the brash boy she met at the cadets. When she reached his side, she saw how hard he had been weeping.

They held hands as the minister pronounced their lives together, to love and support each other in the best and worst of times, regardless of life’s challenges. Jean kissed the back of her hand and wiped a tear from her cheek when they were done, and the guests followed them outside to present themselves as newlyweds to their fellow Eldians. Mikasa tried not to think of Eren but instead that someone else loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. 

After a private lunch with lots of soft music at Nicolo’s restaurant, Jean carried her to a wagon and did not mind that she held his hand with her head on his shoulder without saying anything. Even though she smiled every time he kissed her temple, Mikasa struggled to embrace how her entire life was changing. 

Then the wagon stopped, and Jean hopped out first. As Mikasa started to step out, he picked her up in his arms and carried her around. In front of the wagon was a log cabin with a firepit up front, a dusty pathway, and a river just down the hill. Jean smiled at the dumbfounded look on his bride’s face. “You never specifically said how you wanted your ideal house to look,” he explained, “but I know that you prefer nature and peace, so…this is the ideal retreat.”

He carried her inside and did not set her on her feet. Everything reminded her of her childhood homes, from the kitchen to the water pump, and even the two bedrooms that resembled her home with her parents and then with Eren and his parents. She pushed her fingers to her mouth and shook her head. “Thank you, Jean. I…I will enjoy it here.”

They cooked, ate dinner, and washed the dishes together smiling, but when it was time to go to bed, Mikasa paused at the doorway into their bedroom. It occurred to her then why they had a second bedroom in the house, which Armin and their surviving comrades had built in secret, with Jean’s supervision. 

Jean put his hands on her waist. “What is the matter?” he asked. 

Mikasa bit her tongue, unsure. “I…” She put her hands over his. “I don’t want to do that…tonight.” She held her breath. “Someday, but…not now.”

Jean himself was tired but had secretly hoped to make the marriage, according to ancient tradition, “official” that night. He was slightly disappointed, but he knew that trying to convince her would offend even a strong woman like Mikasa. Instead, he kissed the back of her head and walked around her into the room. “We will not then,” he said. “I promise that I will wait until you are comfortable.”

Smiling, Mikasa kissed him good night and let him wrap her in the blanket and his arms. 

***

The two months succeeding the wedding were some of the happiest and most relaxed of their lives. Their comrades frequently visited and brought up good and bad memories of their training days, as stupid and clueless young soldiers, until dark. If Jean was enjoying a glass of scotch with a book he was reading, Mikasa liked to sit beside him, rest her head on his shoulder, and read along. On days where she observed over his shoulder his artistic talent, he lay on his back so her face hovered over his; he liked to look into her eyes and feel her fondle his facial hair. When his mother came to see their new apartment, she took Mikasa’s hands and said, with tears in her eyes, “Thank you so much for making my child happy. I have never seen him this…content before, even when he was a little boy.”

Still, unlike his wife, Jean began having traumatizing recollections and crying in his sleep. It started one night a week until it grew to three, sometimes four. Mikasa woke to his muffled cries and had to shake him out of his slumber, or Jean battled alone while his wife slept and soaked through his sleepwear. Embraces and walks outside did not always help, but sometimes she had to make him remember and let it go. Jean told her everything except one dream where Eren haunted him for “stealing” her from a lifetime of longing and yearning. Otherwise, it was recollections of discovering Marco’s body, of watching Armin being abused while posing as Historia, and even of Hange’s death in flames. Sometimes weeping in the arms of his wife consoled the hotheaded young soldier within him, particularly because the young woman whom he admired was the one to comfort him.

Within their first two months of marriage, their union was soft and harsh. She smiled when he embraced her in bed but often wept for unknown reasons in the bathroom. Each time, her husband closed his eyes and tried to imagine how his and Eren’s lives would have been different if Jean had been less antagonistic. Jean wouldn’t regret marrying her, but did he unknowingly rush her into marriage before she fully recovered? Even before he asked her to marry him, he vowed that he would love and care for her more than he ever did for anyone else in his life. 

Jean was silent at dinner that night and went to bed early. She joined him later and knew that he was feigning sleep. He’s a good man, she remembered telling herself when she finally agreed to marry him. It is obvious that he thinks that he is failing as a husband, but he’s not. 

“Jean,” she said softly. 

Immediately, he held himself up on his elbow. “Yes?”

Mikasa hesitated, and then took a deep breath. “I…I’m ready.”

For a while, Jean was still. Then he brushed part of Mikasa’s hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him back but then put her hands on his shoulders. “Wait… Could you please sit up?”

Jean pushed himself back and bent his knees, unsure if she would change her mind. Her silhouette hesitated, but then she crawled over and, after shuffling, he sat on the bed cross-legged, and she sat on his lap, her legs around his waist. After gentle kissing and a deep breath, she pulled him back with her onto the bed. His facial hair scratched her chin, and he whispered sweet things to her between kisses.

***

At last, Jean was done chopping wood. He was in the best shape of his life, but his arms and upper back were burning from overwork, and he was thirsty for cold water. Even though winter was months away, he wanted to have as much wood ready for when the cold did arrive and the family retreated to the cabin. Jean wiped his forehead and entered the log cabin. 

Mikasa was at the table, peeling potatoes and slicing vegetables much slower than normal. She seemed lost in thought, so Jean decided not to disturb her. As he took off his shoes and rolled his head, she did look up and smile at him. After he splashed cold water from the pump onto his face and swallowed a mouthful of water, he kissed her cheek and sat beside her. “We are good with wood for now,” he said. “And plenty for when it is too cold to go outside.”

Mikasa nodded along and continued prepping the night’s meal. Jean grabbed a knife and chopped the potatoes that she had peeled to mix with the brown skins. Cutting food relaxed him and took his mind off the bad dreams that were not as reoccurring anymore but still made him reluctant to fall asleep. Now, more than ever, he truly worried about them going away.

Just then, Mikasa stopped and stared at the table. Jean assumed that she was thinking about Eren again, but then she made a face of discomfort. He set down the knife and gently put his hand on her arm. “Mikasa? Are you…all right?”

Mikasa left her mouth open for a moment. “Y–Yes,” she hesitated. “It’s nothing.”

Jean didn’t believe her, but he continued to cut potatoes anyway. Then, about ten minutes later, she made the same face and hissed. Just as Jean lifted his head, Mikasa smacked her hand onto the table and grit her teeth. Her husband set down the knife and stood up. “Mikasa? What is giving you pain?”

Mikasa hissed through her teeth and then slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and dread. “Jean…I may be in labor.”

At that moment, Jean knelt down and moved his wife’s legs in his direction, and put his hands under her arms. They counted to three together, and she shakily stood up on swollen feet and ankles. Her lap and chair were wet with fluids that she somehow did not feel. Jean swung her arm over his shoulders and helped her into their bedroom, where she heaved on her slow way into the bed. “Bring the doctor,” she gulped. “The–The baby is moving fast…”

“No,” said Jean. “I am afraid to leave you all by yourself.”

Mikasa gripped the edge of the mattress. “Jean…you don’t know anything about babies or how they’re born…”

“No,” he agreed, “but what if I leave and you fall off the bed? You could hurt yourself and the baby…”

Then another contraction hit, and she hung her head. Jean helped her to her feet again and helped her walk around the room throughout her labor. After about two hours, her breathing became more hitched, and she could no longer hold up herself. 

Jean lowered her back onto the bed and pushed their pillows under her back. Then he swung her feet onto the bed and pushed up her skirt. “Get the doctor,” his wife whined. 

“No, I’m not leaving you alone,” said Jean. “What if the doctor is not there? I couldn’t leave you alone in all that time–”

“Jean…” She threw back her head and clenched her eyes closed. It hurt Jean to see this strong woman fall vulnerable to the pains of childbirth, but he knew that she would recover. She wasn’t going to let this pain bother her for the rest of her life. He took a deep breath and ignored the sweat all over his back. 

Although Mikasa complained that he should have left for professional services, Jean refused and coached her throughout the afternoon. She gripped her thighs so tightly that she left bruises everywhere, and her eyes stung from the sweat on her forehead. Then she gave one final push and opened her eyes when Jean began laughing and crying at the same time. In his hands he clutched a naked newborn, coated in fluids and wailing. Mikasa burst into tears because for some reason, she felt happy–tremendously happy, like she never thought she could feel. Jean skipped out of the room on shaky legs and came back clutching a knife to cut the umbilical cord and a blanket with which he swaddled his firstborn. 

“It’s a boy,” he sobbed with a wide smile. He curled up to Mikasa and kissed her cheek, and then studied his son’s messy face. “Thank you so much.”

“No,” said Mikasa. “Thank you…for reminding me that hearts can heal, and life goes on…and can be better than you believed.”

Jean stared at her in silence, and then smiled as they leaned forward for another kiss. 

***

Jean sipped from his glass of scotch and looked out of the corner of his eye to the corner of the balcony. Mikasa sat in the corner against the wall post and beamed at the chunky baby who was one week away from his first birthday. They had just laid down flowers at Eren’s grave and showed their son to where they planned to make yearly visits. The baby’s nostrils flared every time he breathed, and he alternated between opening and closing his mouth in his sleep. 

Eren, Jean thought to himself what he would have liked to directly tell his son, whose hair was black like his mother’s, it had been busy months preparing for your arrival. Your mother and I knew that you would change our lives, but we didn’t know how much. Now…I cannot imagine how my life could have been better. It’s like you are my reason for living. All of this that I went through up to now…was to have you born. 

Jean smiled. And I had no idea how much I could love until now.

Jean studied the way she observed baby Eren’s ear and the way Eren outstretched his arms over his head. Did I ever imagine that I would name my son after someone to whom I was quite antagonistic? Jean thought to himself. Absolutely not.

Then he observed deeper how happy the once solemn and bitter woman was. Of course, she would mourn for her best friend every day, but she was also reclaiming her life before her parents were murdered. She was starting to let go of her traumas to give love to the little boy she helped create, and whom she loved. Jean felt a little satisfied that he had a role to play in her joy, and that over time he stopped having nightmares. Was he the most content that he had ever felt and that he wouldn’t trade anything now for what he had hoped for? Absolutely. 

***

Eren did not grow up spoiled; his parents taught him chores as soon as he became a better walker, and he had to obey other adults as well, whether it was to stop raising his voice, help his grandmother clear the table, or not say certain words around Connie and Armin. He was not allowed to wear his shoes indoors nor have too much warm water in the bath. 

Nevertheless, Eren always received the best tomato in the market, was allowed to pick out the clothes and shoes that he liked when he wore out what he had, never went cold in his bedroom, and had enough time between chores and bedtime to play and read his favorite stories. By the time he was three, he craved adventure and enjoyed trips to the log cabin, and was more excited about learning to ride a horse than other changes in the house…

***

“Jean.” “Jean.”

Jean groggily woke up because of the poking on his back. Was it little Eren again? Did he sneak out of his room and slide between his parents to wake them up because he could? Maybe it would be best to sleep through it. 

“Jean.” Another poke. “It’s baby time.”

Immediately, Jean woke up and turned around. Mikasa was still lying down, but her eyes were wide with anticipation. Even in the dark, he saw a growing puddle on her side of the bed. Panic seized him, and he pulled himself out of bed. “Oh my gosh, Mikasa,” he panted, “are you in pain, does it hurt, is it different than–”

“No, I am good,” she whispered. “Just grab the doctor for me, and then tell your mother to take Eren outside to play when he wakes up.”

Jean hastily nodded and kissed her forehead. “But what about you?”

“I can pull myself up,” she whispered right before she made a face of pain. “Just…hurry…”

Jean kissed her again and ran out of the room to grab his coat and pull on his shoes. It was happening again, and he wanted it to be better but just as precious as with Eren. This time, his mother slept on the couch to better assist with housekeeping and to keep her grandson distracted from the confusing yet undoubtedly frightening reality of childbirth.

He ran out of the building, mentally asking Eren, if he could hear his fallen comrade, to please be there again for the laboring woman and to keep mother and child safe.

***

The two horses galloped as fast as they could, as if running from a great wildfire. They darted along the pathway, creating clouds of dust on either side, and rushed to the tall building. Paradis was still slow to catch up with modern technology, but it would have been nice to operate an automobile. A life–two lives–could be in danger, and the horses knew of the urgency. 

By the time they reached the apartment building, Connie and Armin had dismounted from their horses and tied them to the post. They ran up the stairs, and Connie pounded on the door. Within two seconds, Jean–his eyes bloodshot and his face tear-streaked–opened the door. “It’s a girl,” he cheered. 

“A girl,” Armin and Connie whispered at the same time. They quickly removed their boots, hung their jackets, and followed him into the cabin. Jean knocked on his bedroom door and waited for the soft “come in”. Inside, Mikasa was propped against bundles of blankets with Eren at her side, his head against her arm and staring at the wrapping of blankets that she cradled. Little Eren lifted his head and smiled when he saw the visitors. Armin immediately knelt down and embraced Mikasa, who looked exhausted but was overjoyed at another healthy birth. 

“I have a little sister,” Eren said in disbelief. “She hasn’t opened her eyes yet, but she has Dada’s hair.”

“She sure does,” Jean said with a smile. He reached forward, and Mikasa handed him their daughter. “Would you like to hold her?” he asked the guests. 

“Absolutely,” said Armin. 

“Of course,” said Connie. 

Jean smiled at the baby’s pouting lips and then approached Connie. “We named her Sasha.”

The excitement on Connie’s face automatically faded into sorrow as soon as he took the newborn into his arms and looked into Sasha’s face. She clearly resembled her parents, but in that moment, he missed his old friend–someone he considered his twin–so fiercely that it wasn’t fair that Sasha didn’t live to get married if she wanted to. She didn’t get the chance to decide if she was going to have children or to see their home at peace. Of course they wouldn’t have named their baby after her if she had survived, but it was wrong that Sasha had to die for her legacy to live on. 

Connie started crying and couldn’t stop himself. Tears fell from his eyes as quickly as Armin’s and Mikasa’s over Sasha’s dead body, and fell onto baby Sasha’s forehead.

“Connie,” said Jean, Armin, and Mikasa at once, but Connie couldn’t hear them. He seemed to lose his hearing as he mourned his friend again. He kept crying onto Sasha’s cheeks until the whining newborn finally opened her eyes, and then Connie’s eyes cleared. Her eyes were the same shape and color as her mother’s. Sasha squinted at the strange man studying her, and then she lifted the corners of her mouth and trapped her tongue between her gums. 

Connie sniffed and blinked back more tears. “Hi, Sasha,” he whispered. “I am very glad to meet you.” 

Armin walked behind Connie and peered at her over Connie’s shoulder. “Happy birthday, little one,” he whispered. He reached forward and tickled her covered stomach. “You’re going to grow up into an amazing woman–just like your namesake.”

“Let’s just hope that she doesn’t eat everything in sight like a wild animal,” Jean, whose eyes started watering again, chuckled. 

“Or steal food from other people,” Mikasa added with a smile. A confused Eren cocked his head with a “huh?”. The men, however, chuckled and marveled over Sasha until she started to whine. While her mother fed her, Jean led his son and their guests into the other room to help prepare a vegetable omelet–based on how his mother cooked for him–to bring to his wife, who would still be sore for a few days. Jean’s mother returned from the market with more fresh meat, and Armin and Connie stayed until twilight.

***

Mikasa held Eren’s hand up to the headstone and let him put down the handful of flowers. She smiled at where her greatest friend rested in peace. “Hello, Eren,” she said softly. “I thought I would visit on your birthday. We’re going to eat how you liked your deer, and then Armin will come visit and talk about how you stood up for him from bullies.”

Little Eren nodded as he waited for his mother to finish and stared at the etching in stone. He wondered what to say. Then he introduced himself and told the headstone the games he liked to play, his favorite stories before bed, his favorite stores to visit, and how good he was at riding horses. Even though he didn’t see himself becoming a soldier, he wanted to grow up to be strong and smart like his parents and Eren. (Jean, on the other hand, stayed behind to clean up Sasha, who had just vomited over his arm, was sweating through her tiny dress, and needed changing. When he was done, he carried her up the hill and, once again, expressed remorse that they did not get along when they first met.)

“Dada,” said Eren as the family held hands on the walk home, “why did you and Mama’s friend fight all the time? You always tell me that it’s not nice to make people sad.”

Jean and Mikasa, who carried Sasha in her free hand, stopped walking then and pondered how to respond. Then Jean said, “Mikasa, why don’t you go ahead and take the baby home? We’ll catch up soon.”

“All right,” said his wife. She readjusted the baby on her hip and entertained her with the scarf that Sasha liked to play with. Then Jean picked up his son and sighed.

“Well, Eren,” he started as Eren put his hands around Jean’s neck, “you might not understand until you’re big like I am now, but sometimes you will wish that you didn’t do or say some things earlier in your life.”

Eren looked confused.

“So when I first met Eren, your mama’s friend, he…he had gone through some bad things when he was young, like things that I hope you never have to go through. And I didn’t know that. I just thought that the things he wanted to do and the way he acted were silly. We had different reasons for why we wanted to join the army.

“Also…” Jean chuckled. “He and your mama were very close, and I thought that she was so beautiful like she is now. I was jealous that they were very close and that she cared about him so much. I wanted her to like me.”

Eren nodded, though Jean knew that he didn’t entirely understand. He kissed Eren’s head and hugged him tightly. The boy was silent on the way home, where Mikasa was washing vegetables in the kitchen after she sat down Sasha for her afternoon nap. “Go help your mother with dinner,” Jean instructed. “I’ll grab more meat from the market.”

Eren spent the afternoon kneading dough into one large piece and then smaller strips. While the bread baked, he peeled the carrots and turnips with a dull knife for his mother to cut them into small pieces. She had him wipe the flour from the counter so she could begin cooking. Eren alternated between observing her to learn and checking on his sleeping sister.

“Mama,” he said on the counter, “Dada said that he really liked you when you first met, but you really liked Eren, and it upset Dada.”

“Yes, that is true,” said Mikasa without looking up. 

Eren tilted his head to his left. “Did you love Eren? Like, did you want to marry him? Is that why we see him every year?”

Mikasa paused and wondered how to reply. Eren worried that he asked mean questions, so he took her wooden spoon and moved around the sizzling produce. When Mikasa kissed his head, he stopped and let her take back the spoon. 

“Yes,” she admitted. “I…I did love him, very much. I loved him in many ways. He was like a brother to me, even though he was my best friend and we lived together. And…I also loved him, like I wanted to be alone with him and…and not talk to anyone else.” Mikasa deeply inhaled so she wouldn’t cry. “I didn’t think then that I could get married, but if–if I did, and I could marry anyone…I would have wanted it to be him.” She rubbed her nose and wiped her clean hand on her skirt.

“I will always love Eren,” Mikasa admitted, “but I also love your father. He showed me that you can still love after a loss, but that’s not why I love him–it’s much different than that, that you may understand when you grow up. And I love you and your sister more than anything else in the world.”

“Do you wish Sasha and I–do you wish your Eren was our dada?” asked Eren.

Suddenly, Mikasa looked sad. “No,” she said after a long pause. “If I was with Eren, you and Sasha would not be you. You would have been different if your father was not Dada.” She stroked Eren’s cheek. “You and Sasha are amazing as you are now, and I–”

“What’s amazing about Sasha?” interrupted Eren. “She’s a baby. She can’t do anything.”

“Don’t interrupt, Eren,” said Mikasa. “She will not be a baby forever. She will grow up and do amazing things, as will you.” They took turns mixing the vegetables and checking on the bread until Sasha began whimpering. Mikasa trusted Eren not to let the carrots and turnips burn and quickly changed and fed the baby, who fell back asleep.

Jean returned with a hunk of wild boar, which he cooked to the point where Eren’s stomach growled. Sasha woke from her nap and eagerly flapped her arms in delight. Before she could cry at the table that she wasn’t tasting from where the delicious smell came, Eren laughed and distracted her by feeding her mashed carrots. Watching Eren spoon feed the baby was always a highlight of Mikasa’s and Jean’s day, followed by his trying to change her alone without getting kicked and entertaining her with wooden toys from their grandmother. 

***

After years, Annie finally “got it” and married Armin. She kept her hair down but wore a “flower crown” that Historia’s daughter suggested, rather than a veil. She wore a white jacket over a long dress with a short train that Sasha held up on Annie and her father’s stroll to Armin. Mikasa thought that he had not looked as happy in such a long time. He never looked away from his bride’s face. Their kiss was slow and then deeper, and soon Annie began crying as hard as Armin.

Armin and Annie did not want a public ceremony, so they insisted on a private dinner party, which Nicolo happily catered at his restaurant. Reiner told only the best stories of Annie in her girlhood that made the entire party laugh, and Pieck and Connie recalled adventures as ambassadors of peace. Jean even let Eren sip from his glass of wine, which he disliked. 

After Armin and Annie cut the cake and fed each other bites, they cut slices for everyone else. Then Annie took apart her bouquet and showered the party with pedals before Armin carried her to the nearby hotel for their first night together.

On his and his family’s way to spend the night in Jean’s childhood home, Jean thought, for the space of a second, that he saw Hitch, still devoted to the idea of war, somewhere, and she made eye contact with him as well. It was probably someone else with the same hair color and similar wardrobe. Nevertheless, he held Eren’s and Sasha’s hands a little tighter.

Some of the tension went away when they reached where he grew up, and his mother already opened the door before the family reached the front door. The couple let their children run over to their grandmother, who loved them and whom they loved. Like every visit, she had cooked up a juicy omelet like her son had devoured as a little boy for everyone to taste, bought for Sasha a pretty dress, and sewed together a unique cardigan for Eren. 

She had kissed all over Mikasa’s cheeks, having adored her like a daughter, and called her son “Jean Boy” to make the grandchildren giggle. At dinner, she listened to Eren and Sasha talk over each other about the wedding until they started yawning. Then their parents put them to bed in Jean’s old room, where she had framed a professional drawing of her son as a chubby toddler, and caught up with the grandmother until late in the night. Jean went to bed reflecting on the suspicious face that he caught eyeing his family but confident that he and his wife would educate the children on self-defense and how to keep themselves safe.

The next morning, the children woke up to the smell of delicious omelets that kept them full until dinnertime. They spent the remainder of the day playing on the floor, reading child-friendly books from around the world that Armin collected for them, and watching people under the balcony.

Mikasa watched in silence until Jean wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. She leaned back against his chest, ready to delight in the overwhelming joy that he gave her that filled their lives and would continue to grow…

“Could I…talk to you in private?” he whispered. 

Mikasa knew it was bad because Jean rarely hesitated. With one hand over his, she said, “Eren, Sasha, why don’t you see if your grandmother needs help? She’ll appreciate two little helpers.”

Eren and Sasha immediately took to cleaning up after themselves and walked over to their grandmother. Jean led Mikasa into his old room and quietly told her about what he saw when they were leaving the wedding reception. Mikasa’s eyebrows rose, and then her eyes narrowed. How were they to talk about this to the children, especially since Eren was about to start school and perhaps with children whose parents believed in the Yeagerists? Jean’s greater concern, however, was the children’s well-being. Of course, almost everybody knew that Eren and Sasha existed, but what if a Yeagerist tried to use them against their parents? 

Mikasa put her hand over his. “We will talk about it tomorrow night, when they are asleep,” she promised him. Then they stood up and helped their children set the table for dinner. 

“Hey Dada, did Gramma ever make cow for you when you were little?” asked Eren, who was biting on a strip of steak thicker than he could chew. “You should have seen how she does it! She says that you flip it over and keep it at a low heat but a longer time, and it helps if you don’t want it red in the middle.”

Jean was half-listening, his mind still worried for his children’s safety, but he nodded with what his son just learned. “Some people like their meat red,” he agreed, “but some people will get sick if they eat it.”

“How?” asked Eren. 

“We will tell you after we eat,” Mikasa took over. “What else did you learn with Gramma?”

Eren and Sasha babbled that the same lesson–low heat, long time–applied to vegetables as well, as Gramma showed the difference using green cabbage that were steaming on the table. Jean met his mother’s eye, but she focused more on her daughter-in-law’s plate, full of portions slightly larger than usual and even odd combinations…

“Sasha, will you eat your potatoes?” Mikasa complained. “You don’t know where we will find food for your next meal! And trust me. Going hungry does not feel good!”

Groaning, Sasha slowly shoved a spoonful of potato chunks into her mouth, glaring at her mother the entire time. Jean had to hold his breath so he wouldn’t laugh at the irony—of all the foods that little Sasha ever ate in her life, potatoes were the one food she hated.

***

It was strange that the Rumbling had ended years ago. So much had happened since then, but few things pleased Historia more than to see how everyone had seemed to grow closer. They had all gathered at her orphanage as both a reunion and a private place to talk about international relations without the fear of eavesdropping. 

Everyone had scattered between the picnic table, helping Historia bring out the food and treats, and within the fence, watching Eren and Sasha play with the orphans and observing how Armin never seemed to take his hand off his wife of five month’s back. They only stopped to eat, and the other ambassadors complimented how polite Eren and Sasha were to offer to collect the plates and utensils to take inside. Nothing made Jean feel prouder that he and Mikasa were parenting very well.

Once Eren and Sasha had resumed playing with the orphans, Historia resumed their important topic of discussion: the rising threat of the Yeagerists. The army wasn’t just growing stronger; it had also garnered new weapons that could kill thousands of people at once. 

“But does this mean that they’re ready to initiate war at this point, even against the same countries that provided these weapons?”

“No, Historia said, very specifically, that the Yeagerists are not planning an attack yet,” Annie reminded Pieck. “But…it’s getting to the point where she’s thinking about sending someone in to infiltrate the Yeagerists and see what they have access to.” She cast her eyes wistfully to the bench on which she sat. “And if they gain too much power…how will the rest of the world’s population look at us if part of us are trying to…you know, execute permanent annihilation of civilizations, and another part are trying to promote peace?”

Pieck turned her head to ask Mikasa something, but then forgot when she saw a look of discomfort on Mikasa’s face. “Mikasa?” she said. “What is it?”

Mikasa grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “I–I’m fine,” she heaved. “Just…could you find my husband for me, please?”

“Wha–” Then realization dawned on Pieck’s face. “Oh my, that’s–you’re in labor.”

Mikasa shushed her. “No, please don’t. I don’t want my children to hear and get worried. I just…” She closed her eyes. She didn’t want her children to see or hear her prepare to give birth. Otherwise, Eren would be reluctant to marry and condemn his wife to the pain of childbirth, and Sasha would be terrified to risk her life and go through labor. 

Pieck quickly left the picnic table and ran over to Jean, who was standing with Reiner and Historia, mindlessly talking. She whispered into Jean’s ear, and he faced her with shock. He hurried to his wife and knelt beside her. “Are you all right?” he hissed. “I didn’t think the baby would come so early–”

“N-Neither did I,” she grunted.

Jean caught Pieck whispering to the other adults. Historia ran over and helped Mikasa to her swollen feet. Her water had already broken, and her cheeks were flushed. “Annie and the men will keep an eye on the children,” Historia reassured the couple. “I talked to Pieck–she’s going to bring the midwives over to your house.”

Mikasa braved a look over her shoulder and fortunately, her children were still playing. “Historia…” she exhaled.

As Jean helped her into the wagon, Historia glanced back and forth between the remaining party and the couple. “How long did it take you to have your babies in the past?” she asked. 

“Four hours with Sasha, Eren was about five,” said Mikasa. Historia nodded and said that, if they were all right with it, the siblings could spend the night at Historia’s and go home after breakfast the next day. The couple reluctantly agreed.

The wagon arrived at the apartment just before the midwives arrived. By then the couple were in the bedroom, and Jean was trying to hold Mikasa steady as she drank from a glass of water. The midwives confirmed that she was ready to give birth. 

Holding her breath, Mikasa took off her scarf but clutched it in one hand so that Eren would still be with her once more in one of the most important moments of her life. 

***

The rooster woke up everyone in Historia’s daughter’s room. Even though the adults had woken up earlier during their time in the cadets, it was still an unwelcome disturbance in their states of peace. Armin yawned as he sat up and scratched the side of his head. Eren stirred in the sleeping bag beside him and then opened his eyes. Across from them, Connie was slow to wake; Sasha, curled up in his lap, rubbed her face and stretched her arms over her head. 

Eren immediately sat up. “Mama,” he whispered. He kicked himself out of the sleeping bag and stomped his way to his sister. “Sasha–” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her off Connie’s lap, ignoring her whines. “Sasha, is Mama–”

“Eren,” hissed Armin. “Don’t do that.” He pushed himself up and walked out of the room, coming back with Historia. She made the children eat with the orphans first and then allowed Connie and Armin to take them back home. The children hesitated out of fear for their mother’s well-being until Armin took Eren’s hand and Connie put Sasha on his hip. 

Jean’s mother opened the door. She must have arrived right after the midwives left. “Good morning, children,” she said with the love that she had for her darling grandchildren. “Your parents are awake. Come meet your new baby brother.”

Eren sighed in relief. Even Sasha was excited and grateful. They followed the older woman to the parents’ room. She softly knocked on the door and said in a softer voice, “Jean? Mikasa? The children are awake.”

“Come in,” said Jean.

Jean’s mother opened the door, where Eren and Sasha saw their parents curled in bed. Both were smiling down at the tiny hand reaching from the bundle that Mikasa and Jean shared, and they smiled even more when they looked up at their older children. Eren let go of Armin’s hand and made a beeline for his father, who picked him up and sat him on his lap. Connie set Sasha on the foot of the bed, and she crawled between her mother and father. Mikasa kissed her children’s heads and showed them the baby’s face. He had Jean’s eye shape but Mikasa’s eye color. Eren saw their father in the baby’s nose and lips. 

Cautiously, Sasha put her hand on her baby brother’s chest. Eren gently kissed the baby’s ear. Jean beamed at his children displaying affection to the newest addition to their family; Mikasa looked relieved that they were embracing their new roles as big brother and big sister. 

***

Most of the orphans had grown up at this point but still stayed close to the orphanage to assist with childcare and maintenance in between deciding how to spend their adulthoods. With Historia’s permission, they let some of the children ride horses around the lawn. The younger ones gathered around Eren, who enthusiastically taught them a game that seemed to be a combination of tag and hide and seek. 

“He’s everything like his namesake, just without the temper and the hothead,” Annie said at Jean’s side, startling him. On his hip he balanced young Sasha, who had just recovered from an ear infection but still complained that her head hurt and that her nose was runny. Annie smiled at the little girl who looked up curiously, as though she had never seen the former Warrior before. 

“Does this make you want little ones of your own?” Jean innocently asked. “Or…do you prefer observing them rather than making them a full-time job?”

Annie looked up at his eyes and then back down to Sasha sticking her finger in her red ear. “Maybe one day,” she said, “but only if Armin wants to–and I know how not to raise them, like my father did.” Her eyes flickered in sadness, but she chuckled when she focused on the running children.

Jean felt a tug on his pant leg. Little Marco stared up at him. His eyes were wide with a question that he could not ask. Jean touched his head, which sprouted black cowlicks that reminded him so much of his late friend. “Yes, little guy?”

“Dada, can I go…” Marco mumbled, still learning his words.

“Of course,” said Jean. “Eren! Will you come here and let your brother play?”

Eren whined but told the orphans to hold up, and he ran over to the hill. “All right, I got him,” said Eren. He picked up his brother, who wrapped his arms around Eren’s neck and dangled his tiny legs. “Come on, Marco. You’re getting heavy!”

Jean chuckled and watched Eren carry Marco halfway through the field before eventually giving up and setting him on his feet. Marco toddled in Eren’s shadow on his way to the older children. Some of them made faces that they had to slow down for a toddler, but the others cheered on Marco and his unsteady steps.

Jean sat down beside Annie, with Armin joining in and pulling his wife to sit between his legs. She leaned her head against his shoulder and laced her fingers between his. Jean discreetly watched the couple and patted Sasha’s back as she made noises in the back of her throat. Mikasa joined him later and watched Eren pretend to run slower than he really was so Marco could have a winning chance. 

She remembered Carla insisting that her own son was not going to join the army and become a soldier. It was the first time, perhaps, that she had seen the kind woman so angry that she yelled at her child for something other than misbehavior. Even though Mikasa tried to parent her children from what she remembered of her own mother and Carla, she wondered how she would react if one of them expressed a desire for a career in the military. Now more than ever, with the Yeagerists growing more influential, it was both more and less dangerous compared to when the Titans were their main enemy. 

Mikasa snapped out of her musings when Jean called over Marco and saw that he needed changing. As Jean carried Marco to a more private place, Mikasa cradled Sasha in her arms and thought more about surrendering Sasha or one or both of her brothers into the army. Remembering that her children were named in honor of fallen comrades made Mikasa reluctant to imagine them in uniform. Sasha traced with her finger the brand on the back of her mother’s hand, and Mikasa knew that, even though the children would not carry on her maiden name, they could still choose if they wanted to brand themselves as a reminder of the family legacy.

***

Eren was eight when the nightmares began.

That day, Mikasa and Jean took their children to the graveyard to have little Sasha put flowers on her namesake’s grave on her birthday and stayed longer than intended when her namesake’s parents arrived. They marveled over how big the children were and told them that Kaya was engaged but still active with the other orphans at the farm. 

That night, Marco helped his mother bake bread and Jean read to his older children until dinnertime. Then Mikasa ran Sasha a bath and told her funny stories about her namesake and all the trouble she got herself into but all the fun that they had together, even though they had different personalities. Jean lured Marco to sleep as Mikasa had Eren and Sasha read out loud until the children’s eyes drooped. Then their parents tucked them into bed.

Eren dreamt that he and his brother and sister were running on a sunny day, but they didn’t know where. He just wanted to challenge them over who was the fastest, knowing that he would win because Sasha’s skirts slowed her down, and Marco’s legs were still short. The three of them laughed and ran up a hill until they saw a giant tree in its entirety.

Immediately, Eren stopped running, and so did Sasha and Marco. It looked exactly like the tree that their mother and father took them to visit every year, where his mother had buried his namesake, but it could not have been that tree; he would have realized that they were on the hill that they had to climb up to see the burial tree. Even though part of him wanted to turn around and go home, the other half was curious as to why this tree was unlike the one that he visited yearly. 

Eren held Sasha’s and Marco’s hands on their way further up the hill to investigate the difference between this tree and the special one. Neither of them spoke. They craned their necks for any suspicious branches or tree roots. The hairs on the back of Marco’s neck stood up; Sasha had an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. 

Then, on the other side of the tree, was a hollow much bigger than even their own house. It was completely black. Nothing seemed to move inside. Still, Eren was interested. 

“I don’t want to go in,” said Marco, who seemed to suspect his brother’s curiosity. 

“Me neither,” added Sasha. 

Eren tugged on their hands. “Come on, don’t be scared,” he said. “Nothing will hurt you. I don’t think anything even lives there.”

“You don’t know that,” said Sasha, “because you can’t see it to be sure–”

“Well, then, how will we know if it is something’s habitat if we don’t see for ourselves?” Eren impatiently interrupted. “Come on!”

He pulled them to the tree and into the hollow. It was so dark that he could not see his own hand. The ground at his feet was soft. Curiosity grew, and he wanted to see what was inside, if anything. 

Eren didn’t realize that he had let go of his siblings’ hands until he slipped and fell down a long downward tunnel. As he felt bruises form on his face and legs, the screams of Sasha and Marco grew fainter and fainter until he splashed into a cold pond. 

Eren held his breath on time, but his body was in such pain that he couldn’t move his arms. The stinging would not go away. Carefully, he opened his eyes, which didn’t hurt under the cold water, but he couldn’t see anything. Eren willed himself to move his body despite the pain and slowly moved his arms over his head. 

Suddenly, he felt a gentle trickling alongside his spine that offered a mild comfort. Eren tried to push himself up, but the grip down his backbone only strengthened and quickly sent uncomfortable sensations throughout his body. His eyes throbbed, and everything turned white, and his limbs tugged, and his jaw ached, and he didn’t know if he was dying or becoming some strange creature, but he knew that he did not like like and wanted to get out–

Eren’s eyes flapped open. It was dark! Panicking, he sat up ready to scream, but then he saw a window and soft moonlight peering into the room. Terror seized him. Was it a dream or did it really happen? Eren shivered and looked down, but it was just his sleepwear wet with sweat. If he had fallen into water, he most certainly would be wearing dry clothes, whether he dressed himself or his parents did. 

Eren steadied his breathing and worried that he woke his brother and sister. Luckily, both were still deeply asleep: Marco had his thumb in his mouth, and Sasha was unaware that her doll had fallen to the floor.

Quietly, Eren left his bed, put the doll back into Sasha’s hand, walked to the kitchen, poured himself water, and shakily retreated to his room. Closing the door made him feel both safe and scared at the same time.

The following night, he was still walking through the tree, but this time he had dragged his brother and sister with him. Marco whimpered to himself, and Sasha clung to Eren’s arm as he walked them into oblivion, into the path of a pale blue glow, one that attracted him and gave him the sense of power, strength, a lineage of immortality…

“Eren! Eren!”

Then Eren’s eyes opened. It was his father, who looked terrified. He was still in his room. To his left, his mother consoled a hysterical Marco. Sasha clutched Mikasa’s skirt and also looked at Eren with fear. 

Eren sat up when Jean let go of his wrists and looked around. “What happened?”

“You were having a bad dream,” said Jean. “Your brother woke us up, and you were crying and moving around in your bed like you were running for your life.” He pushed Eren’s wet hair from his forehead. “You’re safe, son. I know that you probably don’t want to talk about it–”

“No, no!” sobbed Eren. He shook his head so fiercely that his bangs slapped against his wet face. “I don’t want to remember it! Dada, I’m scared!” He wiped his wet eyes. “It wasn’t a human, but I’m scared that–” He wept again. 

Jean picked up Eren and carried him into his parents’ room, gently shushing him and rubbing his back. Mikasa then tucked in the other children, reassured them that Eren would be all right, and kissed them good night again. She came back to her room and helped Eren change into clean clothes and mop his sweaty face and back. When Eren had calmed down, he tightly hugged under his mother’s ribs. “Mama, I was scared. I had a dream that I put Sasha and Marco in danger, that I saw this scary tree like the one we go to every year, and–and I got big and mean and killed so many people–”

Eren silently wept again. His concerned mother and father sensed the full details of his nightmare but gently reassured him that he was smarter than to have done something like that, and of course that he knew that killing was wrong. 

Still, Eren didn’t look convinced. He had told them how scared he was of the Yeagerists in town and that they were trying to recruit some of the older schoolchildren into dropping out of school to join their cause. Even though Eren knew that what they wanted and believed in was wrong, it caused fights in school and pitted children against each other; he lost some good friends and worried that the Yeagerists would try to convince him to be like his namesake and undo everything that his father worked hard to promote. Many times, Mikasa and Jean contemplated taking their children out of school and sending them abroad for their education, but in the end did not want Sasha and her brothers to be too far away from home.

“I don’t want to be a bad person,” said Eren, “but I don’t want to be a bad person who doesn’t know it. I want to be like you, Mama, Dada, but I don’t want to make things worse than they already are!”

“I know, son,” said Jean, “and we are both so proud of you and your sister and brother for how good you are. You three are good children, and we know that you’re scared.”

Eren silently nodded.

“Dada and I will talk about it,” said Mikasa. “We want to discuss some good ways that you can deal with it if you feel pressure to join and not have to get hurt.” She kissed his cheek. “Try and get some sleep, Eren. We can talk about this with Sasha and Marco tomorrow before we go on the trip.”

Eren tried to feel better but was still uneasy. He didn’t want there to be an attack at school that the Yeagerists pretended was not their doing just so they could get little boys and girls to join them. Even though that never happened, he heard Dada talk about some countries where that did happen– “inner terrorism”, Dada said it was. He didn’t believe in their cause but knew that he couldn’t fight them alone, and that hurting other people to stop it would make it worse.

***

The horses galloped across the grass, at a distance that seemed unfathomable to the cadets years ago. They ran past sights that they had never before seen. For the human inhabitants of the island, such a sight would have seemed imaginative but impossible. It was so large compared to the nature once confined within the walls. 

Eventually, the humans on the horses halted them. In front was the sand and the ocean that stretched on for miles. It was even more beautiful than they had remembered the first time that they laid eyes on the blue saltwater. 

Armin was the first to dismount and waited for Eren to let go of his father’s waist, then helped him down. Connie jumped onto the ground and pulled Sasha off his horse’s back, and Mikasa told Marco that he could open his eyes, having clung to his mother’s front the entire ride. When Marco saw the ocean, his jaw dropped. “Mama…” He pointed to the ocean as if she had never seen it before. “Look!”

Mikasa smiled and carefully took him off the horse so that he didn’t have to look away. “Yes, Marco,” she whispered. “This is what the ocean looks like, not just when your father boarded that ship.”

By this point, Eren and Sasha had stripped down to their underwear and ran to the ocean until they were up to their waists. They splashed at the surface and flicked water at each other. Meanwhile, as Connie and Armin kept watch over the children, Mikasa and Jean took off Marco’s shoes, held his hands, and walked him along the wet sand. Marco squealed when the cold wave washed over his feet, but then he giggled and waved his arms. “Again, again!”

Sasha cartwheeled in the smaller waves, and Eren scooped up handfuls of sand, which he threw at his sister. Sasha protested and flung a fistful of wet sand at his chest.

“Sasha! Eren!” cried their parents. “If you continue to do that, you won’t be allowed to pay in the ocean anymore!”

“Sorry!” they apologized simultaneously. 

Armin waved them over and showed them how to find seashells and small conches in the wet sand. The siblings spent the afternoon trying to carry as many in their arms and looking for bigger sizes. Armin only pulled them away from large jellyfish, and Connie chased the children into the ocean, and then let them chase him back to the beach, laughing the entire time.

When lunch was ready, Mikasa carried Marko to the blanket, and Eren and Sasha rushed to the dry sand. Armin gave them towels to dry off, which they wrapped around their bodies like capes, and Connie helped them fill their plates with warm meat and vegetables to put on top of their bread. Sasha and her brothers ate quickly, eager to go back to the water. Marco admired the conches that his brother and sister found. 

Only after lunch was over did Jean let Eren and Sasha grab his hands and pull him back to the ocean, where he fell to his knees and let his children climb up his back. Eren and Sasha giggled and held on while he spun in circles. Marco held out his arms and whined, but Mikasa set him on her lap and watched her other children try to climb higher onto Jean’s shoulders. Jean pretended to drop Eren, and then mimicked throwing Sasha farther away.

Armin joined her after cleaning up and wanted to cry. Even though the ocean had always brought him joy, it always occurred to him the series of events that led to massive loss of life and then the death of his best friend. Of course he adored the little Kirsteins, but did his best friend, who loved him like a brother, really need to initiate a war with worldwide civilizations for little Sasha and her brothers to exist? Even if Eren knew that Mikasa and even Jean were the happiest that they had ever been, would he still have gathered followers to promote his beliefs even after his death just so their children could grow up safe? The Yeagerists were still gathering power in the island, and Armin worried that the world was more dangerous to little Marco and his older siblings than the threat of Titans. 

Marco crawled out of his mother’s lap and tried to run his hands over Connie’s growing buzzcut, but he didn’t want to pull himself off his knees. Connie, chuckling, lowered his head for Marco’s curiosity. Armin watched Marco move his fingers and babble incoherently, wondering if his work as a peace ambassador was enough for him to ensure that the next generation of Arlets would understand the sacrifices that his fallen comrades had made and still not worry for their lives. 

***

Mikasa knelt down to the tree roots and smiled at the headstone. “Hello, Eren,” she said softly. 

Behind her, Eren and Sasha impatiently held the flowers to put on the headstone and tried to leave their mother in peace with the first person she truly loved. To Eren’s left, Armin held his son’s—named after his paternal grandfather—hand, and Annie put her hand over where she felt her second child, hopefully a little girl, kick without mercy. (Jean, on the other hand, was at the cabin, helping Marco fight a fever.)

Mikasa shared that her children were fast runners and wanted to go back to see the beach. They shared all the chores and were very good readers. All three of them took singing lessons at school, and Eren and Marco took to heart Jean’s advice that women like men who could cook. (Of course, that was not the reason why Mikasa married Jean.) Eren stood up for classmates from bullies without getting into physical fights, Sasha was an excellent archer who could hit a target even while riding a horse but still hated potatoes (and was sometimes caught sneaking hers to an unsuspecting brother), and Marco had beautiful handwriting and started losing his first teeth.

Then little Eren put down the flowers and excitedly said that the year before, he and Sasha asked Dada to take them with him on his journey to other countries. After careful discussions with Historia and the other ambassadors, they agreed on the condition that Jean would be responsible for where to put the children during confidential meetings. Mama stayed behind with Marco and little Arlet, and Eren and Sasha ran around the steamboat to explore the inner workings, ate fresh seafood every day, and giggled when Pieck pointed out the mirror where Jean studied his appearance to look more attractive. Even their cabins and the water for bathing were warm. 

Upon arrival to Marley, the ambassadors bought an ice cream for the little Kirsteins to share, caught up with Yelena, and left Eren and Sasha with Levi, who had since opened a tea shop but treated the children to lollipops. Even though the Warrior Unit heard the story before, they laughed when Connie, Armin, and Jean recounted to Jean’s children their first trip to Marley and their unfortunate first interaction with alcohol. Eren and Sasha howled until their stomachs hurt. 

It had rained that night, so Reiner wanted to cancel his plans to show everyone all of the trees that Gabi and Falco had planted but gave in when everyone insisted, nonetheless. Jean made sure that Eren and Sasha wore their “chore’s clothes” as they inevitably played in the mud.

The best part, according to Eren, was that as soon as Reiner introduced the children who were coated in wet dirt to Gabi and Falco, Sasha greeted them by throwing a fistful of mud at Gabi’s face. Jean was too horrified to confront her. Reiner, however, laughed hysterically, to Connie’s and Armin’s confusion. “At last, Sasha has her revenge.” (And no, Gabi was not mad but laughed at the little girl. She even lent Sasha a clean nightgown while her and Eren’s clothes were in the wash.)

They went to so many countries and explored so many things that Eren and Sasha were exhausted on the trip home and slept for two whole days in the cabin. When they did wake up, they went back to chasing each other around the steamboat and learning how it worked, and tired themselves sharing with their mother what they had learned.

By this point, Eren’s throat was dry, so Mikasa patted his back to make him feel less guilty that he ran out of stories already. He listened to Sasha talk about her friends, and Armin encouraged his son to say hi to a headstone. 

When they arrived at the cabin for lunch, Jean had just pulled Marco from a hot bath and quickly put him to nap so he could help his wife. Eren and Sasha grabbed apples from the kitchen bowl and took little Arlet outside to feed the horses; Annie watched from the kitchen as Eren held up her son in his arms and instructed him to give the apple to the horse. At first, the little boy looked terrified as the horse sniffed his fingers but then giggled as the horse bit into the apple from his hand and munched.

The children came back inside for a lovely lunch and to watch Annie, with insane cravings, consume almost every pie on display. The adults pretended not to notice, let alone watch, but Annie was fully aware and did her best to chew slowly and savor the taste before swallowing. 

***

And just like that, everything changed. 

Jean and Mikasa were napping after a post-lunch round of sex when they heard the explosion. Jean quickly dressed and stepped onto the balcony to scan the city. The look he gave his wife terrorized her. 

“It’s the school,” he whispered. 

The couple fought their way through the panicked crowds, but the crowd only seemed bigger as worried parents tried to get closer, but the “police” held them back while the headmistress refused to let any children go home until every child was out of the rubble. 

Mikasa craned her neck to watch the smoke reach for the sky, and visions of dead children’s bodies came back. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists. This could not be happening again, it could not, and she knew that the Yeagerists had to have been responsible just to create horror. Jean was right–inner terrorism was the worst kind.

Teachers led schoolchildren out of the front door and had them stand in a line for a proper headcount. Parents shouted for their children, who cried and pleaded to go home, but it all made Mikasa feel worse. 

“Eren!” cried Jean. “Marco! Sasha!”

Mikasa joined him in crying out for Sasha and her brothers, but it was twenty minutes before they saw Eren’s face in the line pouring out of the front door. He was crying but grabbing his friend Bryce’s shoulders while another boy clutched his.

“Thank goodness,” Jean muttered. “Sasha! Marco!” 

Thankfully, Sasha’s class stepped out after five minutes, and they identified their daughter in the crowd. Sasha tried to run over, but her friend Ashly pulled on her arm, so she spent the time holding hands with Ashly and their friend Megan. She was visibly crying but clearly trying to console her friends. Mikasa sighed in relief to erase a terrifying vision of Sasha’s body, prone and still like her late namesake’s. 

Jean put his hands on her arms and tried to comfort her for what seemed like hours.

“Kirstein!” roared a teacher. It caught Jean’s and Mikasa’s attention just in time for Marco, his little face covered in soot, to hurry out of the building with his best friend’s arm around his shoulders. They cried out for him, but he likely could not hear them. Austin was bleeding so profusely that Marco had taken off his own jacket to push against the head wound. 

Fortunately, a teacher swooped in. “Here, Marco,” he said. “I got him, thank you.” Marco cried as he watched Austin being carried away from him until their teacher called for Marco to join the line. 

In that moment, Jean’s panic faded and turned into utmost pride for his youngest child.

***

Jean washed his face of his tears and stared at his reflection. Not even the relief that his children were safe was enough to calm him down or make him stop crying. He tried not to think of how hard the children were crying or how terrified they were so that their parents had to carry them home. It took hours for them to calm down, take baths, and cuddle with their parents until they fell asleep on the couch.

Mikasa was sitting on the chair beside the couch and silently weeping as she clutched a mug of tea. She shook her head. “They will never forget this,” she whispered. She set down her mug and pulled her husband into a fierce hug. He let her cry on his shoulder and studied how the children twitched in their sleep, Marco silently crying, Sasha gripping the skirt of her nightgown, and Eren pushing his face into the seat of the couch. As soon as Jean’s mother returned to keep an eye on the children, the couple snuck out and rode to meet with the Queen, who was just as devastated. 

“I know it was the Yeagerists,” she said and went into detail about a mole who infiltrated the Yeagerists and confirmed the weaponry used to explode the school, kill twenty-four children, and hospitalize over fifty. Mikasa’s heart pounded in hatred, and Jean hung his head against his wife’s shoulder. The mole, however, did not know that the school would be a target; from what the Queen gathered, the attacks were to be random.

Within two hours, they sketched out a plan: Because the anniversary of the Battle of Heaven and Earth was approaching, she would assign Mikasa, Connie, Jean, Armin, Reiner, and Pieck to parade through the streets in celebration and commemoration of the lives lost; their job was to keep an eye out for anyone who may not be celebrating and make a report to Historia. Annie, on hiatus after the birth of baby Arlet number three, would sneak the little Kirsteins and Arlets to the Blouse farm for hiding until it was safe to go home. If the Blouse family approved, they would take in the children two days before the parade was announced. 

Naturally, the late Sasha’s family was happy to take in Annie and the children, but Reiner and Pieck, having moved back to Marley, were hesitant and worried that it would just lead to more casualties. With convincing from Armin, whose own firstborn was due to start school the following year, they agreed to come as soon as possible.

Mikasa, Jean, and Armin had to console their frightened children about the distance and the undisclosed amount of time that they wouldn’t see their parents. With wigs and new clothes, Annie and the children departed by wagon to Dauper. Mikasa and the men watched with pained hearts as the wagon faded into a small dot, and reluctantly turned away from their dearest loves. 

***

The couple pretended not to feel awkward that they were parading around town to commemorate their victory at an inappropriate anniversary. It would have been better to have erected a memorial of all the late soldiers who died during and before the Battle.

Instead, they scanned the crowds to find hostile looks and suspicious people, yet they also saw grateful townspeople eager to stare at the heroes of so many years ago. Their uniforms were recently cleaned, and they received new versions of their since-retired gear, from the blades to the Thunder Spears. In the far distance, Armin saw three children–two little boys and a little girl–climb onto the roof of a house to watch. He secretly smiled to himself in nostalgia and confidence. 

It’s nice to know that some people still believe in us and are grateful for all that we had done years ago, he decided to tell his friends after the parade. However, he thought back to that one fateful day, when he and Eren and Mikasa snuck a peek at the parade of the Survey Corps, only to find a defeated team that suffered more than it gained. He hoped that somehow, this act sent a positive message to the next generation whom he had to protect from the threat of destruction and massive death. 

Jean made himself smile as he admired strangers and was showered in rose petals. Years ago, he would have done anything to do this and get girls’ attention, even if it wasn’t to find a lifelong mate. Now he had a real job to ensure the continued safety of his pride and joy, all three of whom, according to Annie’s recent letter, were recovering as long as they helped with the farm and practiced riding horses. Jean scanned the crowd for anyone who perhaps indicated signs of affiliation to the Military Police. It seemed like such a long time ago that he had wanted to be one of them and live a life of luxury. 

Ka-BOOM!

The explosion was louder than at the school, and not just because of the close distance. Jean knew from the smoke that it was of greater ammunition. Then he heard another explosion, and more people screamed and huddled to the ground or pushed past each other.

“Everybody get inside!” Mikasa roared, and she and her surviving soldiers galloped to the scene of devastation. She did not want it to be another school–no more children deserved to struggle with the trauma that her children were fighting–and she certainly did not want it to be a crowded building like a hospital. Luckily, the road ahead of her was cleared with not even a wheel to slow down her horse. “Seek shelter! Do not hover around!”

Then they erupted out of nowhere. 

The capes were long gone, but the tails of their coats fluttered behind them like the former uniform. Mikasa’s heart pounded in anger. They did not deserve to wear the wings of freedom anymore. They took that symbol as their own and dishonored it so that it lost its true, original meaning. 

The Yeagerists swooped down to assault the former soldiers who still rode like a windstorm and pulled out their gear. Jean clutched his handlebars and glared at the monsters who dared to threaten the lives and well-being of the three people he loved above anything else. Adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream, and the hatred that he once felt for the Titans was now reserved for those who sought destruction, not peace.

“Jean…!”

Jean barely turned his head to his wife’s direction as everything went black and the screams of Reiner, Armin, Pieck, and Connie faded…

The surprising, blinding light snapped Jean from unconsciousness, and he trembled as his vision cleared. When he finally came to his senses, he realized that he was in a basement with lanterns. About ten people in the now dishonorable uniform were glaring at him. He tried to move but realized that he was hanging by his wrists from the ceiling.

“Nice to meet you, Kirstein,” said a young man who reminded him of Samuel. “We’ve heard a lot about you and are so delighted to put a name to the face.”

Jean scoffed. “Nice to meet the people who threatened my children’s lives by blowing up their school and harming innocent children.”

The man’s laugh was like cold water. “Ah, seems like your personality hasn’t changed since your hotheaded days with the cape.” He pushed back his hair. “I guess there are some things that don’t go away when you become a father.”

“Not everything has to change when your life isn’t about you anymore,” Jean spat. “But yeah, if you’re going to torture me to demand where my children are, I wouldn’t even bother to tell you their first words.”

Some of the other occupants snickered at the jab. “We’ll get to that later. Honestly, we’re more curious about something else.”

“Listen to me, you dirty devils,” Jean growled. “I know what you’re trying to do, but trust me. You’re only going to make things worse. The cause is dead, and you’re following a destructive path that will kill everything and everyone you care about.” He tried not to think about Mikasa in the past, only the Mikasa who was now his wife.

One young man grabbed his ankle and pulled off his boot, and Jean’s heart pounded in his ears. “You really believe you can take down the Yeagerists, after all we’re doing in the name of your late friend?” he sneered. "If that's so, then why even bother naming your first son after your old friend? Didn't you try to talk your wife out of it?"

“You’re only causing more pain, more hardship to children who will not understand that you cannot always solve a problem by becoming part of the problem,” Jean hissed. “You’re only spreading the disease when you think you are curing it.” He tugged on his constraints. "And we named our son Eren...because for all the harm that the first Eren I knew caused, my Eren...my little ray of light...will bring back together what my friend had torn apart."

The young man gave him a twisted look. “A disease, you think Eren’s cause was, to free us from discrimination?” He pulled out of his pocket a hammer and slammed it so hard against Jean’s instep that he heard the cracks before he felt the bones break.

***

Mikasa glared at the young woman whom she had followed and cornered in an alley. “Hitch,” she spat. “I should have known that you were a leader in this.”

Annie’s former roommate snickered. “A leader?” she stupidly repeated. “Just because I’m fighting for a cause that I believe in doesn’t mean that I always take the reins. Whose idea was it to have this stupid parade, anyway–yours?”

“Like hell,” Mikasa huffed. “I did not want to celebrate history this way unless we erected a monument for all of those who lost their lives to preserve Paradis Island without harm to others.”

Hitch’s mouth twitched. “That sounds so unlike you, Mikasa,” she chuckled, and Mikasa couldn’t tell if she was being serious or sarcastic. “It looks like you’ve had a complete change of heart ever since you became a mother. Didn’t you ever tell your children how Mommy was a tag-a-long for almost her entire life?”

Mikasa arched her feet and gripped her handlebars so that her knuckles were white. “Well, if I can recall, I got to where I was from natural talent, not through perhaps dishonorable means.”

Suddenly, Hitch’s eyes flickered, and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a gun. 

Mikasa was quicker in deflecting the bullets with her blades until Hitch ran out. Growling, she tossed it aside and raised her fists, in a position that she clearly learned from Annie. “Fine, then,” said Mikasa, who took off her own gear. “Let’s do it evenly. Give me everything you got.”

Hitch huffed, and the women ran forward.

***

Jean clenched his fists over the chains holding his arms over his head and tried not to show any sign of pain on his face. Both of his feet were broken, and he had a sensation like blood was pouring from his legs. Nevertheless, he glared at the damn Yeagerists who gave him looks of death that he delightfully returned. It’s not just that you wanted to kill innocent children, innocent lives, he wanted to scream at them. I know that you wanted to create an attack just so you can drive more people to your case, even if they left years ago!

“Are you ready to speak now?” sneered a soldier. “We have so many questions to ask, and we have all the time we need to beat them out of you.”

Jean nastily grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

The soldier grabbed Jean’s leg by the knee. “All right, then–”

Within seconds, the pain of a dislocated knee soared up Jean’s thigh.

***

Just then, Hitch raised her leg and kicked Mikasa in the chin, sending her tumbling back. 

The nasty chuckle that Hitch gave only angered Mikasa even more. “Motherhood clearly made you lose ground,” she taunted as she wiped her bloody nose. “It looks like you forgot what made you graduate at the top of your class.”

Not quite, Mikasa thought to herself. She pushed herself to her feet and ran forward, but Hitch was faster–a kick toward the face, but Mikasa defected it, grabbed Hitch’s knee, and spun her around so that Hitch instantly fell to the ground facedown. 

Same person, the black-haired woman thought to herself, different enemy closer to home. Then she grabbed Hitch by her elbows, forced her up onto her knees, and stepped on her ankles. “Where is my husband?” she spat. “If you thought your defeat was embarrassing, imagine what I can do to ten more people–it helped me take down more Titans than you would believe.”

Hitch snorted, so Mikasa pushed up her arm until Hitch cried out from the pain of a dislocated shoulder. “I’ll keep asking you until you give me a truthful answer,” she warned. “Trust me–I could do this as long as I need to.” She then shoved her knee into Hitch’s lower back. “But if you lure me into a trap, I have no problem finding you after I escape, and making you wish that I had killed you.”

Hitch groaned and hung her head. For extra security, Mikasa dislocated the other woman’s knees and paraded her throughout the empty streets. Seeing curious and relieved faces made the mother of three satisfied that not everybody agreed with the Yeagerists, yet also displeased that they refused to fight back and relied on semi-retired soldiers to take down the threat of terrorism.

You disappoint me, she bitterly thought.

***

I will not give in, Jean mentally shouted. He grit his teeth and ignored the pain in his knee. 

He thought of Mikasa, how she slowly became more than an infatuation and then his life partner. She was hesitant to return his feelings, not out of guilt for Eren but to ensure that Jean’s feelings were genuine and not out of lust. He asked every time he wanted to do something new, from holding her hand to kissing her cheek. One time, before they moved in together, she was crying so hard that he cradled her in his arms until they fell asleep together. When she woke up, she thanked him for not leaving her then, nor for taking advantage of her. He reassured her that any man who would harm a woman like that was a monster, and that she herself deserved comfort. 

“Answer me!” yelled a young woman who swiftly dislocated his right elbow. Jean groaned, but at least his arm was not broken or being dismembered. 

He concentrated on the first time they made love, how sweet and passionate they made it, how they were slow to undress each other. He listened to her every need and for discomfort because she deserved to enjoy it and feel safe at the same time. He had tears in his eyes because he could not believe that this was happening. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and pulled over her head and squeezed her hand, and barely winced when she sank her fingernails into his back. It was sweat and happy tears and desperate kisses on both ends. She had finished before he did, but he knew that a one-night stand or with someone for whom he did not feel as he did Mikasa would not have brought him to that intensity. Afterwards, he kissed her forehead and wrapped their blanket–and his arms–tightly around her as they whispered to each other to sleep.

His other elbow throbbed, but he pretended not to feel pain, for he recalled that one special memory, when he and his wife studied each other and made love in the cold river outside their log cabin. It wasn’t their first time in the river, but it was the most special because two days later, her birthday present to him was a tiny box with white baby shoes inside. Jean had never cried harder from joy at that point in his life until she had the baby.

He thought of the births of his children and the delight and fear each time that he became a father. Being the first to hold his children in his arms gave him an elation that no poem or song could sum up. Even the mild moments of frustration were nothing compared to the joy of watching them grow up into better human beings than he had ever been, and he was determined to maintain their sense of safety throughout their lives. 

He thought of his children’s namesakes, and why he and his wife agreed to name them after beloved friends. Whenever Eren made friends with boys and girls who didn’t fit in, Sasha poked her head through hanging laundry just to puff her cheeks when she knew that her father was unhappy, or Marco tried to fix his own problems on his own before asking for help, Jean wondered if his fallen friends were proud of the legacy that Jean was giving him in their honor. All he wanted was for them to grow up healthy and strong, and give him and his wife similar–if not greater–grandchildren. 

Pound, POUND!

“Who the hell is that?” someone demanded.

Through blurry eyes, Jean turned his head to the knocking. Just then, the door opened, and a body flung onto the floor. 

“Hitch!” cried the Yeagerists. Jean noticed that his former ally was hog-tied and gagged with a white cloth, and his eyes widened.

“Who did this to you?”

“Was it one of those so-called Warriors?”

They removed the gag from her mouth, and Hitch was crying from either pain or humiliation. “It…It was…”

The door flung open. “Come and get me,” said the voice that he loved to hear every day, the voice that thanked him for being a wonderful father and husband, the voice that whispered every time they made love…

Still, Jean struggled to focus, but he knew from the constant grunts and her angry yells that his warrior wife was winning. He heard the snap of broken bones and bodies slammed against the wall in a dizzying circle. It ended with deep pants. 

“Thanks for the tip, Hitch,” he heard her say right before a crunch, a cry, and a body slump. Then the footsteps drew closer. “Jean! Oh, thank goodness, you’re still alive.”

Jean grinned, but his body ached for him to willingly talk. She grabbed his face and kissed him. “Stay with me, all right?”

She searched the unconscious bodies for the key and freed him from his chains. He partially collapsed onto her and groaned. “Th–They dislocated…” He tried to lift his aching head. “All the joints…they hurt…”

“I know,” she said, “but I’ll help you out of here.”

With one arm over her shoulder, she escorted him up the stairs and into the sunlight. She set him onto the ground and knelt down to stroke his face until Armin and the others arrived. Reiner picked up Jean and carried him all the way to the hospital, where Jean passed out in the cool building.

***

Jean was slow to wake up but knew that he could not stay asleep anymore. He dimly opened his eyes and failed to suppress a yawn. His wife was curled up in the sheets, her bare back against his bare chest and her long hair tumbling over the pillow. He had his arm around her waist and his bare leg draped over hers. A hot flash erupted in his chest. How did he get so lucky that his dreams became manifestations that turned out to be better than he imagined? 

He didn’t know if she was feigning sleep, so he decided not to surprise her with an omelet or treat himself to scotch. He just wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could. They were talking seriously about expanding their family, and he knew that once a child entered their lives, they would have limited time alone, even to conceive again. The one thing he knew, though, was that, regardless of how many children she bore and how her body would change, he would still find her attractive and want to squeeze her against his naked body in his sleep, just like in the present. 

“Jean?” It was her sweet voice. “Are you awake?”

“No,” he responded. “Why? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not.” She adjusted her arm over the blanket. “I’ve been awake since the sun rose. I just didn’t want to get out of bed.”

Jean pulled her closer to his chest and moved his arm to align under hers. “Me neither.” He shoved his face between her shoulder and neck, and breathed in her natural scent. “I never thought how much I could appreciate mornings like this, where we have nothing to wake up to.”

Mikasa huffed. “Agreed.” She hesitated. “We had too many sacrifices and unnecessary deaths to bring us here, but…our–our roles that we had in bringing us this peace…I wouldn’t give up anything.”

No matter how much Jean would miss Marco and Sasha, and mourn that even Levi’s past squad never had this chance to wake up with an intimate partner, he felt that neither would have wanted him to be deprived of that privilege. If even one cadet could find lifelong happiness and live a desired life outside the army, then that was for what his fallen comrades had fought.

Secretly, Jean wondered if Eren, his family, and even Jean’s late in-laws would have thanked him for making Mikasa happy, the way that Jean’s mother had thanked her. Even if his mother had hated her and did not think that her son could feel safe and comfortable enough to be vulnerable, Jean would still want to marry, have a family with, and grow old with the orphan girl. How Jean yearned to tell his younger self that he and the young woman whose long black hair he adored would make each other happier than he ever imagined. 

***

There were dim sounds, like speech–different people talking, with old and younger pitches. Nothing was clear yet, but they were familiar sounds. Some sounded worried, others uncertain. His body felt like it was levitating like in a street magic show. Blood rushed down his face, and his skin started to hurt. What was this? Was this a new Path that he somehow joined?

Wait–there was light, light ahead…and some dark shape at the end of it…

Jean slowly opened his eyes. Mikasa smiled in relief. “Thank goodness,” she whispered. She held up a white cloth and dabbed at his warm face. Jean signed as the memories came back of the torture and pain, but she was safe. She was alive. It wasn’t a dream, he knew. 

Suddenly, their three children’s faces popped into his sight. “Dada!” they cheered. 

“Children, shush,” said Mikasa. “You promised that you would keep your voice down when he woke up.”

Sasha climbed as much as she could onto the bed and kissed Jean’s cheek. “We were worried, Dada,” she said. “Then Uncle Armin and Uncle Connie came to the farm after two days–we were very good–and they didn’t say what happened.”

Eren pulled Sasha off the bed by her waist and ignored her complaints. “They just said that you were hurt,” he said, “so Aunt Annie made sure we all got to come here.”

Mikasa picked up Marco, whom she bounced on her lap. “The doctor readjusted your joints, but you will still be sore for up to a week, he thinks,” she said.

Jean sighed. The soreness he could deal with, but the broken bones were his main problem. Did the doctor offer to lend them a wheelchair so that he didn’t have to hurt his feet anymore with crutches or have to stay in bed while he healed? He looked around and saw that they were in his bedroom, having taken him home right from the hospital. How long was he unconscious?

Then the door opened, and Connie led the Arlets into the room. Baby Arlet sucked her thumb in Annie’s arms, but her older brothers flung their arms over the foot of the bed. “Uncle Jean, guess what he did?” whispered Leonhart, who waved a piece of paper. 

“We made you a card,” hissed his older brother, who bounced on his feet. “We hope you get well soon and can go outside with us for picnics in the park.”

“Thank you, boys,” said Jean. 

Eventually, Mikasa sent her children into the kitchen to surprise Dada with a special dinner, and then asked Connie and the Arlets to please supervise so no fights would break out over something silly. Her friends ushered the Arlet boys out of the room, leaving her alone with her husband. She helped him sit up, removed the loose tunic as gently as she could, and pulled from behind him a bowl full of water and a blue cloth. 

Jean smirked. “Is this really why you asked the children to surprise us with dinner–to get a good look?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes. “I can see it every night, when the children go to bed, and I would never tire of it.” She wiped down his arms and collarbone, cleaned the cloth, and focused on his midsection. He watched his wife’s delicate arm move over his skin in small circles. She shifted behind him only to wipe his bare back and the back of his neck. He heard her set aside the bowl and felt her soft lips on his shoulder blade. Her kiss on the back of his neck was harder, as were the pecks going down his backbone. 

“You know that you can cry if you need to,” he reminded her. He knew her long enough that he knew when she had the urge. 

“Not until the children go to bed,” she whispered. After she kissed both halves of his wide, muscular chest, she moved on to each tied joint and then his lips. She carefully separated her legs over his lap, careful not to touch his aching hips, and held his face in both hands so that he wouldn’t stop kissing her. 

Jean wished that his elbows and shoulders were not dislocated because he desperately wanted to pull his wife closer to him in his arms and tug on her long hair. The kissing did not last as long as he would have wanted; she broke away after hearing two knocks on the door, followed by, “Dada! Can we come on? We have dinner ready!”

Eren, Sasha, and Marco together cooked for Dada an omelet with potato chunks rather than rice, diced zucchini with sauce that Dada liked, and a chicken thigh. It smelled quite appetizing. The three took turns feeding Dada, who was grateful that the Yeagerists didn’t dislocate his jaw, and made sure that he ate every bite, “including the gross potatoes,” Sasha added with her nose wrinkled. Mikasa did not send them back to wash the dishes until forty minutes after Dada finished eating, but Marco said that Connie and the Arlets were already at the sink so he, Sasha, and Eren could spend more time with their father. The next four hours flew by, and everyone wished Jean a good night and easy sleep.

Eren, Sasha, and Marco fell asleep around their father, but Mikasa was too tired and lazy to pick them up and move them into a different bed. She curled up to her husband’s chest and lured herself asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

It seemed so long ago that she dreamt of Eren and herself isolating themselves in a cabin to live out the remainder of his life. Looking back, she realized that she wasn’t that selfish; she just wanted to spend as much time with the one family member she had left and let him know how much she cared.

At this point, she instead dreamt that she had a terminal illness and had even less than four years of life left. Unlike what she would have wanted for her friend, she would have preferred to stay in the apartment. She would have had multiple gatherings with her fellow cadet graduates, tasted everything on the menu at Nicolo’s restaurant and listened to what he knew about food from different countries and cultures, researched her heritage with her children, made love to her husband like she could not believe, and opted to see more of the world. Then she would peacefully pass away with no one but her husband and three children at her side to remind her that she fought for and lived a great life.

When she woke up the next morning and looked at the family that she helped build, she assumed that her mother and father would have been proud of where she ended up and the life she created after losing everything at that point. 

The family spent the day flipping through Jean’s filled sketchbooks as far back as when he was newly married. The children were fascinated to see how much detail their father put into artwork that resembled photographs before more Eldians took to photography. Of course, their apartment had photographs of their growing family, but Sasha and her brothers already could not imagine a life without that technology, let alone to capture intimate moments of her parents admiring newborn Eren or Sasha herself kissing baby Marco’s cheek. Only after the three (reluctantly) went to sleep in a different room did the couple flip through some of the more private sketches, such as Mikasa nursing their babies and her various body parts two days before she gave birth to Eren, her hands over where the doctor said that the fetus’s feet and head were at that point.

Then she flipped back pages to a personal favorite, which turned out to be the morning after Sasha was conceived. Jean sketched his wife, under the blanket, holding up a camera to take a picture of her husband at the foot of their bed and sketching her as he saw her. She even clipped the photograph of Jean to the page as a reminder of the “simpler time” when they were experimenting with unfamiliar technologies that would definitely shape the following generations. Neither bothered to dress; they covered themselves with their shared blanket.

“An innocent time, it seemed like,” he thought out loud. 

“No,” she said with a smile. “It was just one step further into our lives together, as we were rebuilding.” She leaned her head against his arm and admired how he drew her fingers clutching the camera. “It’s something that you and I can look back on with fondness.”

When Jean turned his head to meet her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbow. “Do you remember how you used to say, ‘I’m not him’, ‘It’s not who I am’?” She took a deep breath and continued: “I…I am glad you are not. I was always happy that you are a different person.”

Jean blinked, stunned. Mikasa reached forward and stroked his cheek. “The love I felt for him was different. And…I always will love and miss him, but I realized…” She took a deep breath and swallowed. “The love I have for you, I could never have with him.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “Mika, understand this–I never wanted to be him anyway, because I knew that he had flaws that were not healthy for any of us in the Corps. You know what he planned to do, and you allowed yourself to admit that you disagreed with it. That is a brave thing.” He motioned for her to move her head to his face, and he kissed her cheek. “I probably would have stopped feeling anything for you but anger if you did not bother to fight back. I know that you’ll carry this feeling for the rest of your life, but think of it like this: If you never did make that decision to kill him and stop the massacre of thousands of more people, you would have spent the rest of your life and even your dying moments regretting it.”

That stopped her crying, and Jean was tired but wanted to continue. “You saved thousands of other lives, my love, just by you admitting that you couldn’t allow your love to continue like that. And…” As he smiled, tears filled his eyes. “Our children–our three babies–they would not exist.”

Mikasa wiped her face and nodded in agreement. “True,” she said, “and I hope that Sasha and the boys will learn that story one day, and learn something from it.”

“They will,” Jean promised. “I know they will. That’s why we visit the grave every year–so they learn something every time, about doing what’s right, and how to grow up: Move on, but don’t forget.”

“I know,” his wife smiled. “I love you.”

Jean echoed her and deeply kissed her. Then she lied on her side, cuddled up to him as best as she could, and repeated that mantra in her mind so she could one day tell the three people for whom her life was centered: Move on, but don’t forget. Move on, but don’t forget.

***

So many things happened, wonderful and terrible. Life truly went on, and more than fifty years had passed since she made that fateful decision to end her best friend’s life. Had he lived, he would indeed have been amazed with how unrecognizable their home was.

The couple led the way to the tree, followed by Sasha, Marco, and, on behalf of her absent husband, Eren’s wife, all of whom brought their children with them while Sasha’s and Marco’s spouses waited by the cars. 

Jean still supported her after she stepped off her wheelchair and towards her friend’s final resting place. True to his word, he loved her the older and grayer she became; true to her word, she felt just as attracted to him as when they pledged their lives together.

Mikasa still felt the same every time she saw the headstone. It was always nice to stand here and pay her respects to her childhood friend. At that point in her life, he had been her entire world; now, her entire world was right behind her but also preparing for her departure within the next few years or the next decade. This time, it was bittersweet to think that one day, she would join him, reunite with her own parents, and the fallen comrades. She just knew that everyone in her family would still come to the burial grounds, and she wouldn’t change that as long as they were still able to live long lives as she had.

[clarepreed]

Molasses

Story Summary and Content - 5,806 words. A waterless drowning at a molasses processing facility. Can Ryan save his crush Kayla from what seems like certain death? Drowning, on-site resuscitation.

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“Hey!” Ryan reached out and, against his better judgment, grabbed his coworker Kayla by the upper arm. “Are you okay?”

Kayla looked weak and overheated, her small but curvy form drenched in sweat. She barely acknowledged his hand on her arm, nodding and gesturing at him with her clipboard.

“David said…” She rubbed sweat from her eyes, looking dazed. “He said I have to finish inspections before I take a water break.”

“That’s not how water breaks work. They’re time-based, or need-based, not a reward for tasks completed.” Ryan released her arm reluctantly, aware that people were watching. Still, he hovered, afraid she was going to tip over. “You should just come with me now.”

“I have to make sure they’re cooling properly.” Kayla shook herself and looked up at him, her dark eyes focusing on him for the first time. “This will be over soon. When we get new transmitting thermometers…”

“I can’t believe we don’t have spares.”

“And there’s a supply chain shortage…” she sighed and adjusted her hard hat and safety glasses. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Okay.” Ryan watched her walk away, feeling troubled. Sometimes he thought about quitting this job, and this was one of those times. He’d worked at the molasses processor and distributor for several years now, and at first, everything had been fine. Since the pandemic, however, the facility seemed to fall apart. The product went down in quality, the benefits were reduced, and safety flew out of the window.

Temperature control of molasses was an important part of the process. If the molasses wasn’t properly cooled before and during storage, it could cause a deadly explosion. While no molasses production currently allowed for molasses tanks of that size, an explosion over a century ago in Boston had created a forty-foot wave of molasses that killed twenty-one people and destroyed property.

Without the thermometer transmitters, some of Ryan’s coworkers were having to check the temperature of each storage tank manually. Kayla’s supervisor David hated having to redirect staff to do this, so it was often an afterthought or something the employees did on their own.

Today, this was a particular concern. Their region was experiencing an unusual heat wave. It caught them off guard, and most people weren’t acclimated to the weather. Tending to the outdoor tanks right now was miserable.

Kayla had joined the team less than a year ago. Previously laid off from some kind of office job, Ryan could tell she didn’t enjoy working at the molasses facility, but he admired the fact that she still came to work every day and did her best. She seemed to be intelligent and treated her coworkers fairly. On better days, she had a great sense of humor.

Ryan had a bit of a crush on her, something he was only just now admitting to himself.

“I’ll bring her some water,” he muttered to himself, picking up the pace. “She can have some while she makes the rounds. David can fuck himself.”

As he walked toward the break room, Ryan mulled over his crush on Kayla. This was the first time he’d had feelings for someone in a long time. The last person had been his wife, who’d died in a car accident three years prior.

Ryan nodded at the staff sitting in the break room, though he didn’t slow down to chat. He quickly grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and hurried back outside.

The sun hit him hard, glinting off the tanks and the pavement, hot enough that the air hurt to breathe. He thought about dizzy, disoriented Kayla climbing up the side of one of those metallic tanks and picked up his pace.

Ryan found her quickly, relieved when he saw her near the top of one of the tanks. The ladders up the side were caged past a certain height, which made it a lot harder for people to fall from them. Still, he stopped where he could see her to watch her progress.

Kayla crept up the ladder, so slowly he wondered if she was feeling worse. Ryan gripped the water bottles in his hands, silently rooting for her. He saw her long, dark braid swing back and forth across her back as she climbed.

Finally, she made it to the top, and he heaved a sign of relief, if only for a moment. He knew she was headed for the access hatch. She had to test the temperature from two to three places in each tank, checking not just that the tank wasn’t too hot, but that there wasn’t a significant variation of temperature. 

Ryan watched her stumble on her way to the hatch.

“Shit!” Ryan sat the water bottles at the base of the ladder, reaching for the radio clipped to his belt. “Ryan to the front office.”

He clipped the radio to his shirt and started climbing.

“Go for the front office, Ryan.”

He paused on the ladder so he could press the talk button. “I’m at tank 5-B. We’ve got an employee up top with signs of heat exhaustion. I’m going up to check on her now. Over.”

“10-4, do you need EMS?”

“Standby, Front Office.”

I might be overreacting, he thought, hurrying toward the top. I’ll just convince her to climb down and have some water. 

Ryan’s head popped above the edge of the tank, and he immediately froze in confusion. He couldn’t see her at all. He’d expected her to be kneeling by the hatch, lowering the thermometer. But there was no one up there but Ryan.

Ryan climbed off the ladder and looked toward the hatch.

They designed the tanks to be fall-proof, but he also knew the company didn’t maintain to the same standard as before, and that “fall-proof” had meant something else a couple of decades ago when they were manufactured. The path from the ladder to the hatch was fenced off, but at the hatch there was a spot where staff were supposed to clip their harness in to avoid what some supervisors called “big drowned bugs” in the tanks.

When he looked, he saw nothing clipped to the anchor brackets by the hatch.

“What did you do?” Ryan muttered. He forced himself to walk toward the opening, his stomach churning. He himself was not wearing a harness. “And what am I doing?”

The hatch door dangled down into the opening, torn off one hinge. Someone had awkwardly attached a safety lanyard hook connector to the hatch handle.

What? Why would she do that? Was she confused?

The question evaporated when he looked down and realized Kayla was dangling from the safety lanyard. The other end remained fastened at the back of her harness. The lanyards were six feet long, just enough length to reach the surface of the molasses.

 Kayla hung limp from the other end of the safety lanyard, facedown in the first few inches.

“FUCK!” Ryan grabbed his radio. “Tank 5-B to Front Office!”

“Go ahead!”

“Need EMS and the MERT to 5-B now! Kayla’s in the tank!”

He sat the radio down and laid flat on his stomach, hooking his legs around the base of the nearest railing. Then he reached down into the opening and grabbed the safety lanyard with both hands.

“5-B has someone in the tank?” Asked the voice from the radio.

The broken hatch door screamed as he pulled. Kayla didn’t shift.

“Come on!” he growled. He moved hand over hand, arms trembling, pulling the lanyard tight. Then he wrapped his dominant arm up in the stretchable material and jerked.

“5-B? Ryan? Do you copy?”

Kayla’s body pulled free with a sucking sound. Ryan’s arms burned. He was stout, but the strength it took to haul someone’s limp body up out of thick molasses was almost too much.

“MERT to the top of tank 5-B,” the voice from the office said. “Activating EMS now.”

Much slower than he wanted, Ryan hauled Kayla’s limp body up to the hatch opening. He quickly slipped an arm around her waist, grunting and breathing hard as he fed her through.

They collapsed together on the walkway, Ryan gasping for breath, Kayla’s limp body cradled against him. He was typically used to the smell of molasses, but at the moment it smelled sickly sweet.

Over the intercom system, Ryan heard a woman call out: “ALL MERT-TRAINED STAFF TO TANK 5-B. MAINTENANCE TO TANK 5-B. MERT AND MAINTENANCE, REPORT TO TANK 5-B IMMEDIATELY.”

“Kayla!” Ryan pushed himself up off the walkway and turned Kayla onto her back. Her face and clothing were coated with molasses. She’d lost both her hardhat and her safety glasses, and her eyes were closed, glued shut.

Everything he touched was sticky. Ryan quickly stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe her face. The fabric clung to her skin. He leaned over her and tipped her head back, leaning his ear close to her mouth.

A few seconds passed, and he used his hand on her jaw to open her mouth. Her jaw felt tight, teeth clenched, but he got her mouth open and waited.

Kayla’s open mouth was silent.

Ryan didn’t hesitate. He pinched her nose closed, his fingers forcing molasses out from her nostrils. Then he sealed his mouth over hers. His cheeks bulged, and he could taste the molasses on her lips. Her cheeks rounded, but he felt resistance and he didn’t see her chest rise. 

Fuck! Ryan broke the seal with a pop, then turned her head to the side. He slipped two fingers into her mouth, probing for the back of her throat. Finding her mouth filled with molasses, Ryan swept his fingers between her teeth, dragging the sticky liquid out and flinging it onto the metal walkway with a quick motion of his wrist.

Oh, God.

Even through the molasses, he could see that her lips were turning blue. 

“Come on!” Ryan clawed out more molasses and then turned her face toward the sky. He drew a deep breath and covered her mouth with his again.

Again, the breath didn’t reach her lungs, escaping out the side of their locked lips instead with a spluttering sound. He peeled his lips free, his tongue attempting to clear the sweet substance from his lips before he’d even registered what he was doing. 

Ryan didn’t waste time; he shifted over her, his hands unclipping her harness so he could find the bottom third of her sternum through her shirt. He briefly pictured the mannequin from his last CPR training as he clasped his hands together and pressed them to his landmark.

“One!” Ryan rocked his shoulders over his hands, driving his weight into Kayla’s chest. She didn’t click like the mannequin had, but he felt her ribcage flex under his hands, recoiling when he relieved the pressure. He could see her body jerk underneath her safety vest, her stomach popping up each time he pushed down. “…five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten…”

Her sternum didn’t click like the mannequin, but he heard a clicking noise emanating from her mouth each time he pushed down. 

Air. If air can come out, surely it can go in! I’m supposed to treat this like a drowning, right?

“…twenty-nine, thirty!” Ryan grasped her face again and tipped her head back. The molasses on her face felt sticky as he pinched her nose and took a deep breath. He vaguely remembered from class that you shouldn’t breathe too hard or you’ll blow air into the victim’s stomach, but at the moment Ryan was concerned with getting air past the viscous liquid blocking her airway. So he opened his mouth wide and covered hers, blowing hard.

Ryan’s cheeks rounded. Pressure built, so much so that the inside of his mouth hurt from the strain and he felt like his eyes were bulging. Air leaked out of the corner of his mouth, but to his surprise, he saw her chest rise incrementally.

He broke the seal and dragged in another breath, feeling lightheaded from the sudden pressure change. Then he covered her mouth with his and blew hard. His ears popped. Her chest rose slightly, and when he released her nose, molasses oozed out.

What is this doing to her lungs? 

“One, two, three…” Kayla’s head tipped to the side as he resumed compressions, the heel of his hand digging hard into her sternum. A mashup of 100-120 bpm songs played in his head as he pumped. Faint gurgles emitted from her mouth, followed by what sounded like a bubble popping. “…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…”

A clang from below caught his attention, possibly someone climbing the ladder. Ryan kept thrusting his hands into her sticky chest, trying to keep his attention to depth and speed.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” This time, before he straightened her airway, Ryan pulled her mouth open and thrust his fingers inside. Molasses pooled there again, forced up by the pressure created from the compressions. He scraped out the sticky liquid as best he could and then turned her face back to the sky.

Breathing for her was still difficult; so much pressure built up when he blew into her mouth that Ryan developed a sudden, stabbing headache. He still forced air into her anyway, small amounts eking through the molasses. His lips spluttered, and he gave her another breath.

“Dammit!” Ryan growled, his composure slipping as he pulled back from Kayla’s limp body. He pressed his hands between her breasts and started pumping her chest again. “One, two, three, four, five…”

He heard boots on the rungs of the ladder and glanced in that direction. David’s head appeared over the side, and Ryan fought back the urge to kick him in the face.

“What happened?” David asked. He had the grace to sound worried. “I have the AED.”

“…twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Get up here!” Ryan snarled, bending over to check Kayla’s mouth. The sun beat down on his head, and her skin felt hot to the touch despite what had happened to her. “We need to get her off this thing. It’s not safe for everyone to be up here!”

Ryan forced another small amount of air into her lungs. Every time he pulled back, his lips peeled off of hers and his skin stung.

“Dave to Maintenance.” David kneeled at her feet, setting the AED down on the walkway.

“This is Maintenance.”

“I need the scissor lift to tank 5-B NOW. Top priority.” David said.

“Scissor lift to 5-B. Understood. Over.”

Ryan was back on compressions. “One, two, three, four, five…”

“Need me to take over?” David asked, unzipping the AED.

“…ten… At the end of this round. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”

David turned on the AED, and Ryan heard a robotic voice call out: “Apply pads and plug in the connector! Apply pads and plug in the connector!”

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Ryan prised open her mouth and swept his fingers inside again. More molasses came out with his fingers, and he wiped his hand on his jeans before reaching up and quickly wiping molasses away from her nostrils .

To David’s credit, he seemed to know what to do. As Ryan closed Kayla’s nose and sealed his mouth over hers, David was unzipping her vest. Then he ran a pair of shears from the hemline of her shirt up to the neckline, cutting it open and exposing a black sports bra. Her breasts rose almost imperceptibly as Ryan breathed into her. Dave snipped the center of her bra and pushed the fabric to the side , uncovering her breasts.

As Ryan gave Kayla another breath, David was peeling the paper backing off the pads and applying them to her skin.

“Her chest is sticky,” he said, rubbing the second pad underneath her left breast.

“She was partially submerged in the tank,” Ryan said, his voice grim as he watched David plug in the connector.

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.”

Ryan scooted toward her head. 

“Here comes the lift!” David said.

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient. No shock advised. Continue CPR for two minutes.”

“Do it!” Ryan barked at David, not giving the other man a chance to hesitate.

David didn’t have room to kneel beside her, so he crawled up her prone body, straddling her hips and finding the red mark Ryan had left on her sternum. He rolled his shoulders over his hands and started pressing hard and fast. “One, two, three…”

Kayla’s head rocked with each compression, and with her breasts exposed, Ryan could see them rock and wobble in time with David’s thrusts. Her hand bumped against his leg, the force of the compressions making her shoulders shrug and her arms move.

“…ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…”

Ryan heard the whine of the scissor lift as it rose toward the top of the tank.

“When it gets up here, we lower her on it. You have to climb on there with her and do compressions all the way down, okay? We can’t stop until EMS gets here!” Ryan looked down at Kayla’s face and hastily wiped away the molasses that was oozing out of her mouth.

“…thirty!” David called out, leaning back.

Ryan pressed his mouth to hers and pinched her nose closed. More molasses squished out of her nostrils, and when he breathed into her, he heard an odd rattle. Her chest was still barely rising. Before he gave her the second breath, he reached between her teeth and scooped again.

His fingers came away thickly coated with molasses, dark brown strings dripping and stretching as he pulled his fingers from her mouth. The second breath made her chest rise a little higher.

David rolled his shoulders over his hands and pumped her chest again. “One, two, three, four, five…”

Kayla’s belly popped with each compression, the harsh force required to pump her heart rippling through her body in waves. Ryan glanced over his shoulder and saw the lift rise just below the top of the tank and then stop.

The operator, a woman named Lori, called up: “That’s as high as it goes!”

“…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…”

Ryan pivoted back to Kayla, his mouth finding hers so he could give her two more breaths. She still tasted like molasses; the scent of it reeking off of her was overwhelming.

“Let’s load her, and you’ll have to get in there to continue compressions,” Ryan said, unclipping the AED connector. “I’ve got her head and shoulders!”

Together, the two men lifted Kayla’s limp, sticky body over the railing. David released her feet, leaving Ryan bent over the railing, holding Kayla by the armpits, her breasts exposed to the open air.

Below him, Lori threw her arms around Kayla’s waist and called up: “I’ve got her!”

Ryan watched her lower the unconscious woman clumsily to the floor of the lift, wincing when her head clipped the railing.

“Check the connector!” The AED sounded far away, and when Ryan glanced to the side, he saw that David had it tucked under his arm as he climbed down the ladder. “The fuck you doing?!”

There wasn’t any time to wait for an answer. Ryan climbed over the railing, trying to push back the flash of fear that struck him when he glimpsed the ground below.

He lowered himself as fast as he could, arms shaking from the weight of his own body. He felt Lori’s hands on his legs, trying to guide him down so that he wouldn’t fall off the lift or land on Kayla. Still, he half fell on her anyway, her legs taking the brunt of his weight. She didn’t react at all, and Lori wasted no time starting the descent.

There wasn’t room to kneel beside Kayla, so he straddled her, pressing his hands to the bruise forming between her breasts. Ryan pushed her sternum down, his eyes on her slack face. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

The scissor lift took longer to lower than he expected, though he thought part of that was simply his impatience. He kept rocking his weight into his shoulders and his straight arms, well past thirty compressions. Kayla’s body rock rhythmically beneath him, and he watched her head wobble on her neck.

Finally, the scissor lift came to a stop.  Ryan helped Lori feed Kayla’s senseless body between the scissor lift bars and down to the people below. He recognized Jim and Autry from the Medical Emergency Response Team. He also saw Jane from the front office, her cell phone pressed to her ear.

They laid Kayla flat, and by the time Lori and Ryan had hopped off the lift, David had plugged the defibrillator pads connector back into the AED.

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient.”

“We got someone out there to lead the ambulance in?” Lori asked.

“Analyzing rhythm!” the AED announced. “Do not touch patient.”

“They need someone from Maintenance to unlock the gate down at the access road, but otherwise, the guardhouse has the gator to lead them out here.” Jim gestured toward the far end of the fenced-off area. “Can you do that, Lori?”

“No shock advised. Continue CPR for two minutes.”

Autry was already in position, so he started chest compressions. His hands dwarfed her chest, fingers pressing into her breast as he pumped. Ryan kneeled at the top of her head, taking advantage of the extra space to thrust her jaw forward and tip her head back. Opening her mouth with his thumbs, he peered inside.

“EMS needs to get here yesterday,” he said. He could hear the tension in his own voice, hoarse and cracking. “I’ve been digging molasses out of her this entire time.”

As Autry continued compressions, Ryan tipped her head to the side and swept his fingers between her teeth again. More molasses had pooled in the back of her throat, and he scraped it out as best he could.

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

Jim pulled the black MERT bag closer to Kayla and pulled out a CPR pocket mask. He quickly opened the plastic case and popped the mask out, pushing the valve into place. 

“…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…”

Ryan turned Kayla’s head back toward the sky and opened her airway, holding it in place as Autry paused compressions and Jim pressed the pocket mask to her face. He sealed his lips around the valve and blew. Ryan watched for her chest to rise, but he couldn’t tell if it did.

Jim tried again, and then he broke the seal with a gasp. “Shit, she’s hard to get air into!”

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…”

Kayla lay sprawled in the shadow of the molasses tank, arms and legs akimbo. Ryan could see her chest sink rhythmically beneath Autry’s hands, her breasts wobbling each time he thrust his hands into her chest. She had a curvy figure for such a petite woman, and each time Autry compressed her chest, her soft stomach bulged and rippled.

“…twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five…”

“What’s that?!” Jim asked, lifting the pocket mask from her face. Ryan pulled his attention back to Kayla’s face.

Golden-tinged foam leaked from her nose, and when Ryan peered into her mouth, he could see it at the back of her throat. He quickly turned her head to the side and swept his sticky fingers between her teeth again, trying to scoop the substance out. Then he straightened her head again and reopened her airway. “Try to give her breaths again!”

Jim pressed the pocket mask to her face and pursed his lips around the valve. This time, when he blew, her chest rose. He gave her another breath. 

Autry was immediately back on chest compressions. Ryan could see the brown foam oozing from her nose and mouth again, filling the mask Jim kept pressed to her face.

“Lift that off her face again. I’m going to tip her head over!” he said, doing so as soon as Jim peeled the mask off her sticky face. Ugly, dark foam oozed out of her nose and ran down her cheek, and after a few seconds, more poured inexorably out of her mouth. Her chin bobbed as Autry hammered her chest, and the foamy liquid came in waves.

“Is that good or bad?” Jim asked, his eyes wide.

“I don’t know!”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Ryan turned her head face-up again. “Just give her breaths. Don’t worry about the foam! She needs oxygen!”

This time, when Jim exhaled into the valve, her chest lifted each time unmistakably. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…”

Ryan tipped her face toward him, holding her mouth open as liquid and foam ran out. Her body jerked with the compressions, and new noises were emanating from her open mouth: “Hurgh, hurgh, hurgh, hurgh…”

“…sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

“How long until the ambulance gets here?” Ryan called out, his voice cracking.

As if on cue, the surrounding radios squawked. “EMS is on site, leading them your way now.”

“That would be… four minutes, then? Maybe less.” David said. “Keep going, guys.”

As though we would stop, Ryan snarled to himself.

“…thirty!”

Each time Jim gave her another breath, foam and brown liquid streamed up into her mouth and nose. The inside of the pocket mask looked filthy. The molasses drew gnats and flies, and the men were all fanning their hands over Kayla’s prone body, trying to keep them away.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…”

“…hurgh, hurgh, hurgh…”

“Analyzing rhythm! Do not touch patient.”

Ryan left her head tipped to the side as they all scooted back.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient.”

Kayla looked terrible. The molasses on her face gave her ashen skin a strange cast, and her eyes looked like they had come partially open, her eyelashes encrusted. He could just see the glint of her eyes staring through him. Her lips had darkened, turning blue despite their efforts. The foam was a poison leaking out of her, ending the life of the woman Ryan had been slowly getting to know and care for. The ambulance siren wailed in the distance, finally close enough for them to hear.

“I can hear the sirens,” Jane said into her phone. “Yes, we have someone directing them in!”

“Shock advised. Charging!” A loud tone sounded.

“Come on, Kayla!” Ryan exclaimed. 

“Do not touch patient. Press the shock button now. Do not touch patient.” The orange triangle button on the front of the device illuminated.

David reached out and pressed the button.

Kayla’s body gave a jerk, concentrated in her chest. It made her arms flick further out to either side.

“Shock delivered. Resumed CPR for two minutes.”

“Jim, switch with me!” Autry scooted back, breathing hard. Jim hesitated only a second before he moved into place and pressed his calloused hands to the bruise over Kayla’s sternum. Ryan reached out and pulled him forward so that his shoulders stacked over his straight arms.

Jim rolled his weight into Kayla’s chest, and they all heard a distinct popping sound, like the crack of a knuckle. To Jim’s credit, he kept pumping her chest, even though Ryan could see the grimace on the other man’s face.

“One, two, three, four, five, six…”

Ryan’s fingers were stuck together, requiring him to peel them apart before he could sweep out more syrup and foam. The gurgling noise was louder now, as though it were easier for air to move in and out of her lungs. When Jim hit twenty-five compressions, Ryan tipped her head up and back and grabbed the CPR mask. When he picked it up, however, he realized the base had picked up pebbles, dirt, and other debris from the asphalt where Jim left it.

Ryan dropped the mask and pinched her nose closed, sealing his lips over hers and exhaling a breath into her lungs. Her chest rose and fell, and he gave her a second breath. The cloying taste of her mouth made him gag, and he wrenched his head to the side, breathing carefully even as he tipped her face toward the pavement.

“One, two, three, four, five, six—”

Kayla’s body lurched, and retched, a small stream of liquid running from her mouth, carrying with it gobs of molasses and golden spume. Jim grabbed her by the hip and shoulder and rolled her toward Ryan, who grasped her jaw to keep her mouth open.

“Kayla?” he called out, but he had a sinking feeling that her body had simply vomited, the result of the relentless pounding she was receiving.

He leaned his face close, the caramel and brown sugar scent assaulting his senses as he listened for breath. His sticky fingers sought out the pulse in her neck, but he felt nothing.

“On her back! She needs chest compressions!” Ryan cried out, pushing her away from him.

The men rolled her flat, and Jim shoved his hands between her breasts, popping her stomach and making her shoulders shrug. “…seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”

“They’re coming through the back gate,” David said. “I see Lori pointing them this way!”

“…thirty!”

Ryan forced himself to ignore the mess on her cheek and chin and forced two breaths into her. Her breasts swelled, her dark nipples at half mast.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…”

The siren wailed, the sound bouncing off the tanks and the building. Ryan felt his heart rate increase.

Help is almost here, Kayla! Just hang on!

“…twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Ryan pinched her nose and pressed his mouth to hers, inflating her chest. As he was inhaling through his nose, he heard the AED chime in: “Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient.”

Ryan gave her the second breath and then peeled his lips off of hers.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient. Shock advised. Charging.” As the alarm wailed, the men leaned back.

“Do not touch patient. Press the shock button. Do not touch patient. Press the shock—” David pressed the button and Kayla’s body flinched again. “Shock delivered. Continue two minutes of CPR.”

“I’m on it!” Ryan almost shouted, his hands coming down hard on her sternum. Each time he pressed down, Kayla made a retching noise. “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

Kayla made another gurgling sound, and then, to Ryan’s shock, he saw her throat work. He pushed her chest a few more times and then stopped, uncertain. The ambulance siren cut off.

“Kayla?” Ryan reached out and grasped her face, then leaned his ear close to her lips.

“Hunh…” The sound was soft but unmistakable, followed by a clicking sound as her throat worked again. Ryan heard a door slam and knew it had to be the paramedics, but he pressed his fingers to her neck anyway. 

Her blood beat faintly beneath his fingertips.

“She’s got a pulse! Kayla, take a breath!” Ryan tipped her head back, holding her airway open.

“They’re here,” Jim said. “They’re unloading now!”

Kayla coughed, gagged, and then bowed up, her spine curling up off the ground. She didn’t appear to be conscious, so Ryan grasped her shoulder and her hip, rolling her body toward him. He slipped his sticky fingers into her mouth one more time, clearing away another glob of molasses.

As the first paramedic kneeled beside her, Kayla coughed and choked, occasionally wheezing in a shallow breath.

“You’re going to be okay, Kayla!” Ryan called down to her, aware than any second now he would be asked to move out of the way. Kayla gagged and convulsed, another stream of liquid, foam, and syrup spilling out onto the asphalt.

“Thank you, sir,” a voice said behind him. “We’ve got her!”

“Ma’am?”

Ryan stood, his joints stiff, his hands and face drawing gnats, sweat running down his temples and his spine. He shuffled a couple of yards away, realizing as he did so that the rest of the crowd was doing so as well, trying to give the paramedics room. Someone pressed a cold bottle of water into his hands.

He could hear the medics quietly talking to each other, spare with their words and exuding an air of urgent efficiency. There was talk of suctioning her, of intubating her, loading her up and hurrying her away to the ER. Ryan knew he had no right to follow, that HR would call her next of kin and send a representative in the company’s stead. Public Relations would get involved. The cops would show up any minute.

He didn’t know if she was out of the woods. He didn’t know if he would ever see her again.

Three weeks later

But he had to hope she would be okay, listened to her cough and watched her chest heave, as he watched her peel open her eyes despite the molasses clinging to her lashes.

Ryan hovered outside the coffee shop, anxiously peering up and down the sidewalk, uncertain which direction Kayla would come from.

She’d been texting him since about a week after the accident, reassuring him she was recovering from the pneumonia she’d developed from the molasses she’d inhaled. He’d offered to come visit, but she hadn’t wanted him to see her like that, and he’d not wanted to remind her he’d very recently seen her dead.

Kayla told him, before it was official, that she wasn’t coming back to work. She couldn’t say much, but he thought she might be planning to sue the company.

Ryan honestly didn’t care. He just wanted to see her, to know with his eyes and his hands that she really was okay. He’d been having trouble sleeping, and in the mornings it seemed like he could never wash his face and hands enough. 

A few minutes later, he got his wish, spotting her get out of a car that had just parked along the street in front of him. She was wearing her hair down and dressed in a sundress that flattered her curves. He pulled his eyes up to her face, feeling his own flush hot.

Kayla was smiling at him, her big eyes already welling with tears. She stopped just short of him, suddenly looking shy. “This is only my second outing by myself. The first time was to the store.”

Her voice sounded huskier than he remembered.

“I… Kayla, may I hug you?” he asked.

“Please!” she stepped close to him and he folded her into his arms. She felt alive against him, her hair smelling clean and citrusy. 

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” he murmured against her hair, his voice choked with emotion.

“I’m really glad you came back to bring me water, Ryan. Thank you for my life.”

[naryrising]

Hi Nary! First off, thank you for your positive and impactful presence in fandom and on AO3. Both are better because you’re here with us.

Quick question: I’ve seen a lot of posts urging AO3 authors to lock their accounts for members-only to prevent AI scraping for things like sudowrite. But isn’t that like closing the barn door after the horse is already out? From your knowledge, does locking down an account starting today provide any benefit from AI issues?

Thank you for everything you do!

Ok, well, I wrote the AO3 news post that went out about that topic, and in it I did suggest that locking works is a way to potentially help avoid scraping. But I can expand on that somewhat, because it's really quite a bit more complicated. (And as always, I'm not speaking in an official capacity here, just my own personal outlook).

Will locking your work stop AO3's data from being used in things like ChatGPT, Sudowrite, etc? No. Those tools are all based on the CommonCrawl dataset, which was collected years ago - it began collecting in 2011 and continues to this day. Specifically, as far as I understand, Sudowrite and ChatGPT and others were trained on a version of the dataset, GPT-3, which was released in 2020 (and therefore, based on data collected earlier than 2020). Therefore, if that is your primary concern, yes, the horse is very much out of the barn - this data was collected many years ago at this point, and any prospect of removing it is going to probably involve legal challenges about how such data can be used. This is very much uncharted territory as far as the law is concerned, so it may take years for courts to sort out what rights authors have in this situation. (For instance, can you request the removal of your copyrighted texts? Who knows!)

What about scraping in the future, though? When AO3 became aware that this data was being used to train AI text generators, it blocked the CommonCrawl bot. Therefore, assuming CommonCrawl behaves ethically, it will respect that block and not scrape further data from the site. Therefore, locking your works today will makes no difference if what you're trying to avoid is being scraped by CommonCrawl, as AO3 already took measures to prevent that going forward.

What about other types of data scraping? Great question, and that is the murky area. There are many other people and companies out there who are not CommonCrawl and may have other goals and motives. Some of that could range from a dedicated fan wanting to scrape a copy of their entire fandom's contents on a certain date to keep as a private backup, to academic researchers working on entirely above-board projects in linguistics or literature or media studies, to companies wanting to build their own dataset for training some other future kind of AI, or something none of us are currently able to guess. If that's your concern, then locking your work might provide some degree of protection. It will, for instance, probably protect against fairly crude large-scale mass scraping. (AO3's coding team has also stated that it will block these type of mass scrapers if and when they become aware of them, and has already for some time taken measures such as rate limiting to make the scraping process harder.) But - people, including people who want to scrape data, can make accounts on AO3. It's free, anyone can join, it typically takes about a week to get an invite. They can log in, see the works that are only visible to logged-in users, and scrape them, just with a bit more effort. Now, these are currently, I suspect, more likely to be the kind of scraping projects like "I just want a personal copy of every work in my fandom" or "I'm an academic doing research on fanfiction and I'm collecting data about how fic writers use tags", which some people might be okay with. But it could also be someone with less ethical motives. It's hard to stop one without also stopping the other, from AO3's side. From users' side, locking your works is probably protective against large-scale data scraping, but less so against this type of smaller scale data scraping. But also, I can't predict the future, and maybe there's some project happening right now to figure out a way around this! I don't know!

In short, if you don't want your data scraped, never put anything online anywhere ever, or support legal changes that will allow for stronger data protection. Right now, nothing is completely safe. Locking your works might make them slightly safer, but is not a total guarantee of protection.

[wareagleofthemountain]

A quick note of gratitude to all my new Tumbler friends! I joined the LOTR fandom less than a year ago and am even newer to this site. Just wanted to thank everyone for all your kindness and support of my writing. It means so much and I love you all! Have a happy and safe holiday season!

[ana-cantskywalker]

To the Sabezra Fandom;

Look, with episode 8 less than 12hr away, there’s some things I need to say.

I have only been a part of the Rebels fandom, and the Sabezra fandom specifically, for about 4 months, and I just want to thank you all for how awesome you have been.

I joined tumblr nearly a year ago, and immediately joined a shipping fandom for a pretty mainstream piece of media. It was awful. There was so much toxicity and discourse not only between shippers and antis, but just around everything about the characters themselves, I always got off tumblr feeling worse than when I had opened it, and so I basically quit for nearly six months.

I got back on when I (finally) finished the Clone Wars, and got really active after I watched Rebels, and I have never felt so accepted and welcome in a fandom. And then once I really started hardcore shipping Sabezra, it got even better.

I didn’t really know anyone on this site four months ago, and now I have mutuals that are absolutely incredible. Everyone here has been so kind and welcoming and I feel like I am actually part of the community, not some intruder or bystander. (Which I have been made to feel before by other fandoms)

I’m not saying all of us are perfect, I have seen some of us use less than favorable judgement on how to deal with antis, (I myself have been guilty a time or two but I have done my best to rectify it) but it would be unrealistic to expect every person in a fandom to have perfect discretion with how to deal with people on the internet. I have seen people be called out for their behavior and then go back and apologize for it which is something I rarely see in any fandom.

I have a lot more thoughts, but in short I guess, shout out to all of you for being awesome and making me not hate fandom anymore. Whether we end up cannon or not, I am really glad to have been a part of this.

[ms-moonlight-inn]

✨✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨✨

Look at this shit, it's me answering one of these on the actual day it was assigned. Magic! 🪄🔮

Tagged by @blue-disco-lights, @burninface, @energievie, @jrooc, & @mybrainismelted & @guinguin1984

Name: Burned out & waiting for summer AKA Cyn

Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (or you): That place that keeps promising the Northern lights, but it's always cloudy af here, so we never actually get to see them. last night was supposed to be a good light show... womp, womp... thunderstorms. 

Ok, so this week we are going to snoop into your google search. Type in each phrase and tell us what the first suggestion is that google gives you!

What is the best way to…. study. LOL! Ok, Google, thanks for the generic answers that only work for the few non-neurodivergent individuals in the room.

Where can I…. watch the Celtics game. Um, fuck no. Basketball sucks now, all the new rules have watered down the sport. Also, fuck the Celtics. I'm a die-hard Lakers fan.

How old is…. Joe Biden. There ya go. asked and answered.

How long does it take… to get to the moon. Just g'head and blame my son for this, and all astronomical questions, being permanently etched into our search history.

How many…  weeks in a year. It's moo, motherfucker, moo. Also, 52.

Who set the record for…. the highest jump (@blue-disco-lights, we're all getting this question?!) (it was Javier Sotomayor of Cuba btw)

When did…. WWII start.

 

What does it feel like to… get shot. (@blue-disco-lights Mickey must've hacked into my shit, as well.) Honestly, I'm sur[rised it didn't pop up with something crazier than this.

Can you… run it. And the sites associated with this search are IT/tech sites that tell you if you can run certain software on your machine.

When you… say nothing at all. And these two vids pop up side-by-side.

Same song, different versions. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Why do… I owe taxes this year. LOL! I don't.

Is there a way… to unsend an email. The very first response is an AI generated summary of shit we already know: depends or your email provider & how long ago you sent it. Yeah, so shit, Sherlock.

How old do you have to be… to work. Not even dignifying that shit with a response.  

Where do the… Florida Panthers play. Again with stupid sports questions. i bame wifey for this. (Also, @blue-disco-lights nice Warriors reference! 😉)

What is the best time to… post on Instagram. I really couldn't care less.  

And to finish us off…. What comes up when you type in Shameless? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all...

***

I do believe everyone's been tagged on this. If you haven't please feel free to join & give a tag back.