#she deserves naught less than perfection.

[honeysweetcorvidae]

haru okumura disease. instead of brain there is haru okumura

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

May i request vivienne x mc where mc leaves vivienne after a huge fight and doesn’t come back, only to have her find mc not only living in Japan but also finds her figure skating her heart out during after hours because mc’s best friend owns the skating rink facility. Vivienne stays and watches mc skate but when mc sees her, she ignores her because mc is tired of empty promises and dancing around everything that goes on between them. Especially their feelings. Little bit angst but fluffy ending

Warning: Mentions of toxic behavior.

...

“Fair warning, Vivienne, but this is stalker behavior.”

Vivienne swallows, feeling the words curl around her heart like barbed wire. The thing is, after so many wounds, what’s a few more?

So all she does is pause, ignore it and mask it with her trademark smoldering smirk, her expression all teasing confidence.

“Never thought I’d hear that jab from you, Jace. You learn something new every day.”

Jace stares at her with all the judging intensity of a spectator, the kind that knows when the character on screen is going to crash and burn into a hopeless little thing. Vivienne meets their gaze with a defiant one of her own, because she won’t let that happen.

She’s too familiar with the bitter feeling of a mistake. She knows when to stop. What she’s doing right now? It doesn’t feel like that. It’s light with the possibility of a new beginning, raw with the pain of a past confrontation that demands healing. It’d be easy to bury it in her past, adding more to the ever-growing pile, but Vivienne has grown tired of running and escaping and pretending everything is alright behind a fake smile and- and… She simply had to change. For the better.

She needed to face everything. Make it right.

And MC… that’s her biggest regret. And her first priority.

…

She has been to Japan before. The memory feels like it belongs to another lifetime.

The urge to run it’s overwhelming. She sees anything or anyone that reminds her of MC and her body tenses like a cat about to bolt away from visitors, yet she marches on, determined. An hour later she finds herself in front of a skating ring facility, bigger than she had initially assumed it to be.

“I didn’t expect anything else but the very best for you, MC.” Vivienne murmurs, her pace slowing down for the first time ever since she left the apartment the Poppy had in Japan. Doubt began to creep in like a flood, snuffing all the courage she had managed to gather, rooting her in place for a long minute, hesitating.

People were beginning to stare. Well, they were more like brief, curious glances, but Vivienne felt each of them like a prickle in her conscience.

She could turn back. MC wasn’t expecting her. No one would know about this other than Jace and-

No. No, no. No.

If she went back to the Poppy’s apartment without at least a brief conversation with MC, everything would have been for naught. The failure would otherwise crush her. She needed to face this. Otherwise, had she even changed at all?

She took a deep breath, trying to piece her courage back together. Slowly, she made her way in.

…

MC didn’t have a talent for ice skating, but her passion more than made up for it. She glided along the ice, effortless, easing into a slow spin along the ring, as if she was taking in the view of everyone skating alongside her. Vivienne hadn’t been here for more than a second and she was already mesmerized.

Her body is graceful and relaxed as she goes, completely in her element. From this distance, her expression is nothing but a fleeting mystery – the seductress gets the sudden urge to chase after her ethereal figure, to marvel intensely that someone this perfect exists. Vivienne had seen MC on many situations before, but nothing quite like this. She looks so free, her movements light like a leaf caught in the wind, and the light falls on her in such a way that she might as well be glowing.

Her happiness shines through, and a slow, loving smile settles on Vivienne’s lips before she can even register it. Her hands grasp the edge of the ring and the cold sensation startles her out of her reverie, not sure when she had come so close, but basking in it.

This is the effect MC had on her. She had missed it.

Caught in the warmth of her melancholy, what she sees next hits much harder. One glance up reveals the full-splendor of MC’s face, less than a meter from where Vivienne is standing. She is there one second and gone in a blink, speeding to the other side of the ring, but it was enough time to burn her expression into Vivienne’s mind: a full-blown scowl, barely softened by the sheer surprise of a memory long forgotten, buried deep into the ice. There’s a clarity in her eyes that stuns Vivienne and steals her courage away, and they speak clearly a decision from long ago: MC doesn’t want anything to do with Vivienne anymore.

The urge sparks again and Vivienne throws herself forward, not caring one bit about the stares she receives. She circles the ring in record time, intent on following MC who is already heading for the exit, her pace surprisingly brisk despite the skates she is still wearing.

“MC!” No response, save for MC’s hands curling into fists. “MC, please wait!”

Still, MC does have some distance advantage. It’s all she needs to get to a room and shut the door in Vivienne’s face just as she catches up. It’s one of the rooms not open for the public, she distractedly realizes, only for staff. There will be no pressure for MC to open the door, though. She only needs a few minutes and a call for security to escort Vivienne out, but like hell Vivienne is going to let that happen without saying her piece.

“I’ll leave you alone after this, I promise.” Vivienne says against the door, raising her voice just enough to be heard over it. “Nothing empty about it, I assure you. I— I’ve had… some time to think. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know the rest of the Poppy gave me plenty of lectures and no rest whatsoever… Zoe most of all. And I deserved it, because I didn’t… I didn’t really take the time to notice how you were feeling. I just wanted to protect myself, and that was too selfish from me. It’s true I was scared to enter a relationship, but I had no right to act the way I did, to… to try and manip—”

“Leave, Vivienne.”

The seductress took a sharp intake of breath, wishing she had all the time in the world to make this right. “Hear me out.”

“I’m friends with the owner, you know. Security would come in a second.”

Despite her suspicions getting confirmed Vivienne can’t help but smile, moving one hand to press it flat against the door and lean there. “Don’t go all Karen on me now, MC. Just give me five minutes.”

“I won’t listen to anything you say. I know better than to believe in your words.”

“I’ll say it again: there will be no more empty promises between you and me.”

MC snorts, on the other side of the door. Vivienne wants to imagine she’s also leaning against it, arms crossed, defiant. There’s a beat of silence which makes her heart swell, and at the next second she’s back to tumbling over her words, almost desperate.

“It didn’t realize it as soon as you left. I—I thought I was safe. That no one could hurt me now because I had driven them off, again, but then I began to feel like I had lost a crucial part of myself. I didn’t realize how much those nights we spent together talking meant. I didn’t realize that at some point I had begun to… to feel safe, and accepted, I just kept my guard up and manipulating you so you wouldn’t get any closer. Not once did I stop to think about you, and the way I dismissed your feelings, even when you tried to talk to me—”

“Please, leave. I don’t want to deal with this.”

“MC…”

“Today was supposed to be fun.”

“MC.”

“It’s just— you can’t honestly expect me to believe this. That you’ve changed. It’s only been, what, three months? There’s no possible way—”

“There is.” Her hand falls to the handle, the other automatically moving to search for a pin to pick the lock, but she freezes mid action and forces herself to keep them still against her sides. The one who must open the door is MC, voluntarily. “I was just made aware of your side of the story. It took some time for me to fully process it, admittedly, but once I did—”

“Yeah, sure. Real convenient you didn’t process it sooner.”

“Once I did, I realized how manipulative and… and, frankly, toxic I had been. No one deserves to be treated that way by their partner—”

“Funny, I don’t remember you saying we were in a relationship back then.”

“To be honest, relationships are… tools, for me. It’s my job in the Poppy. My biggest mistake was operating like you were a mark, when you obviously weren’t.”

“You’re sounding like a real knight in shining armor.”

“I’m… merely admitting my faults. I was stupid.”

“The biggest moron to have ever lived.”

Vivienne blinks at that, letting her head drop against the door with a dull ‘thud’. “I can’t deny that. It’s the truth.”

“Right… well, I’m glad your toxic behavior is out in the open now. I… I was warned, in the beginning. Nikolai and Remy told me how used you are to running away. That as a thief you were amazing but as a romantic partner you were a mess. I didn’t listen. I thought I could get through you.”

“And you did, I just…”

“Yes, yes, you realized it too late. And after the whole Poppy yelled at you, probably.”

“…you aren’t wrong.”

“You said what you wanted. Can you leave now?”

Vivienne hesitates, torn. “I feel like there’s more to say.”

“Frankly, I don’t care about you or whatever you feel right now.”

“May I come another day, then?”

“Are you seriously asking that after—? No, no, I don’t want to see you anymore. I left for a reason, you know.”

“I’m well aware. I just want to show you that I have changed.”

“And what, do you expect a medal? Just go.”

Vivienne doesn’t. She grips the handle tight, trying to let it anchor her. “Please…”

There’s another pause. MC’s voice is softer, quieter when she continues. Vivienne almost has to strain her ears to listen. “You always avoided any important subject I wanted to talk about. You always danced around my feelings. No, you looked for specific actions or feelings to take advantage of them. I don’t want to go through that anymore. Whatever we had is over. Leave.”

“I didn’t come here trying to start dating again.”

“As if we ever were before.”

“The fact is you did get through me. You were one of the few people I ever felt safe around. I’ve already accepted I destroyed any chance I ever had with you… I just want to part on good terms. I can’t stand the thought that I hurt you.”

“I’m calling security.”

Gritting her teeth, Vivienne takes a few steps back from the door. “I understand. I respect your decision, MC. I’m… glad we could talk. Goodbye.”

…

The universe has a twisted sense of humor, sometimes.

She’s seating alone in front a café, reading a book Remy had recommended to her long ago, trying to look for a distraction. Her mind won’t stop replaying the conversation she had had with MC almost a week ago, and the memory only makes her soul twist in agony and regret and a little bit of frustration. Not for the first time, she finds herself wishing to go back in time and slap her past self across the face, for hurting a wonderful woman such as MC.

“I’m a mess,” she muses, staring at the book in her hands without really reading it. “A complete mess. I never do things right when it comes to these types of situations…”

Dean flashes briefly across her mind and she scowls.

“I swore not to play with my loved one’s feelings like you did, and yet here I am.”

The chair next to her scrapes, as if someone had suddenly dragged it out. The sound makes Vivienne go tense, one hand already preparing to poison whoever had managed to surprise her. That shouldn’t happen. She’s normally hyperaware of everything that happens around her, as any thief would be.

Just how distracted is she?

“Careful there.”

Vivienne blinks, startled, pressing her back against her chair like a caged animal. “MC?” She breathes, wondering if she’s hallucinating.

“Yeah. Hey.”

“What… what are you doing here?”

MC presses her lips together. Vivienne’s eyes are immediately drawn towards the action, and then she forces herself to meet MC’s eyes, intent on not making this awkward.

“I mean—”

“Jett called me.”

“What?”

“He explained things further. It’s not enough to make me want to mend our…” She cuts herself off, looking away for a moment, but Vivienne catches how her lips had stretched around the ‘r’, and her heart beats with abrupt panic when she realizes MC had been about to say ‘relationship’. “Not enough to make me want to return to the Poppy.”

“But it’s enough to make you want to hear me out?”

“I want you to listen to me.”

“Ah. Of course. Go on.”

MC’s eyes are like volcanos waiting to erupt, two intense pools of chocolate that Vivienne can’t help but drown herself in. “You said you wanted us to part on good terms. I don’t think that’s entirely possible, but having this conversation will help us both. You said it yourself – you manipulated me to ‘protect’ yourself, because you were scared. You made empty promises, like you would if I had been a mark. I was interested in you because you were a mystery. You presented yourself like this very experienced, seductive young woman, but I knew there had to be more. I never really got past your shell, mostly because you were toxic, but also because I didn’t want to force you to tell me what was going on.”

That was true. MC had always been respectful, skidding around subjects that seemed to bother Vivienne. She was ready to talk if Vivienne was ready, on those few sleepless nights. At the time, Vivienne had thought that it was because she had MC perfectly in her control when in truth MC had let her, because she trusted her.

And she had fucked things up, as usual.

“You say that you understand how much you hurt me, I say you don’t grasp it entirely. You wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

“I’m tired of running away.”

“Anyone would be.”

“But it was because I was tired that I decided to come here. I wanted to set things right, even if it meant we’d go our separate ways later.”

“I’m glad you at least acknowledge how bad you were, even if it took something like this.”

“You helped me change for the better.”

MC hums, skeptical. “I hope your… next relationship has more truthful communication in it.”

“I’ll try to apply that to all my relationships, romantic or not. Well, so long as it doesn’t interfere with my job…”

The only two people Vivienne felt she could have been with were out of her grasp, anyway, one dead and one so deeply hurt she wanted nothing else to do with her. There was no point in pursing a romantic relationship anymore.

“I’ve noticed you guys haven’t done any heists lately.”

“We’ve been laying low. Mainly it was so the others had more time to tell me off, which I appreciate. And… what about you? Are you doing better?”

“A lot. Ice skating is very therapeutic once you get the hang of it.” She smiles, then, something small and easy to miss. Vivienne treasures the sight. “My friends have helped, too. I’m not hurting, anymore.”

“I’m glad.”

MC nods, silent.

“Thank you for approaching me, MC.”

“Thank you for letting me go. We won’t meet again.”

The words sting, but Vivienne doesn’t feel like she’s crashed and burnt. She feels free, for the first time in ages.

“Goodbye, MC.”

“Bye.”

[hopelesshawks]

I’m so sorry it took me so long to write this. I’ve never written for any of the girls so I decided to make this one a musician!reader x Jirou! This was requested by @cattasticks and I’m sorry it took so long but finally here it is!

It’s pretty angsty with a hopeful but not necessarily happy ending

You’ll never forget the first time you met Jirou.

You elected not to go to college after high school in order to pursue music full time, a choice that had concerned and frustrated your parents. But you proved they were worrying for naught when just a year after graduating you got scouted by none other than Mika and Kyotoku Jiro to join their record label. From there it was a whirlwind of meeting with record execs and producers, writing music, and finally putting together a full-length studio album you could be proud of. The Jirous had been your mentors through the whole process, making sure you never drowned in the deadlines and minutiae of album creation. They’d even offered up their own home as a location for your album release party, pulling out all the stops to show you how proud of you they were.

It’s at that party you first met Kyouka. Her parents had been suspiciously eager to introduce the two of you, nudging you both with eyebrow waggles and winks. It had made heat rise to both your cheeks, but you’d never seen someone who looked cuter with cherry red cheeks and a bashful, embarrassed smile. By the end of the night you had her number and by the end of the month you two were dating.

It was all so perfect and exciting. Over the next couple years your careers blossomed, with Jirou finally getting the recognition she deserved as a hero and your songs finally starting to top the charts. You loved that you could show your girlfriend whatever you were working on and get genuine advice. The two of you even had jam sessions together on her rare days off. For your part in supporting her, although you couldn’t join her on missions, you were constantly talking about how proud of her you were on tour and in interviews. Every time her heroics made the paper you made sure to save and frame it or print out the online article. But as time passed the jam sessions became further and further apart. You’d ask her for advice about a song and she’d say she was too busy.

Then came The Fight.

“I’m not asking for much Kyouka! I’m sure one of your friends can cover the last hour of your patrol for you!” you had insisted, voice raising with exasperation.

“I can’t bail on patrol whenever you want me to, the city needs me!” Kyouka had fired back.

“I’m not asking for whenever I want you too I’m asking for one night! Is it so wrong for me to want my girlfriend to support me?”

“It’s just an awards show, what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that it’s important to me! My tour starts soon so I won’t be home for awhile and I’d like to spend one of my last few days still in Japan with the woman I love supporting me in my career! It’s just patrol!”

“Just patrol? Patrol is a vital part of my actual career, award shows are a nice bonus for your hobby.”

Kyouka wished she could take the words back the minute they were out of her mouth but it was too late. You reared back as if struck, heart fragmenting in your chest.

“Wait, baby I didn’t mean it.”

Her words were gentle, pleading, but it was too late. As she reached out to try and touch you, you jerked away. “This isn’t working,” you mumbled, arms wrapping around yourself as if you could hold yourself together even though you felt like you were falling apart. “Don’t say that,” she whispered but you shook your head. “I’m done Kyouka, I just- I get that my job isn’t as important as yours in the grand scheme of things but it’s important to me. You used to get that but… but you’ve changed and I think we’re just too different now.”

With those final words you had left, sending a friend to pick up your things from her apartment the next day and then just a few days later you were off on tour.

It’s been six months since then and there’s an odd sort of grief that fills you as you step into the airport. You’re only in town for about a week to do three shows before you’ll hop in your tour bus and head to another city. Touring has been a nice distraction from your break up being back in the city it happened is dredging up feelings you neither have the time nor the desire to deal with. You spend all day preparing for your show, checking the stage is set up exactly how you like it, running through the set list, doing dry runs of some of the stunts and the like. By the time you head back to your apartment you’re pretty exhausted.

Which makes the fact that Jirou is standing outside your door waiting on you less than ideal.

“Please don’t, I’ve had a long day and I just want to go sleep,” you sigh as you step in front of your now ex-girlfriend.

“Just hear me out,” Jirou pleads but you don’t want to hear it.

“Move so I can get into my apartment,” you insist but she doesn’t waver, biting her lip in nervous determination before steeling herself.

“Look I know you said we’re too different but you’re wrong, I promise you you’re wrong!”

You scoff, seriously debating an attempt at physically removing Kyouka from in front of you, but she presses on anyway. “We’re not too different! I promise we’re not. We both love each other. That’s all that matters. So we’re no different and maybe I’m not the one but can you at least accept half? The half I broke that day? Can it at least be enough to let me in so we can talk?”

You give her a skeptical look, debating with yourself. She looks so desperate and you’re not sure you trust her not to hurt you again. But she’s right. You both love each other and even if love sometimes feels like a disease it’s enough of a similarity for you to hear her out. “Alright move so I can let us in,” you sigh and Jirou’s face lights up with hope and relief.

It’s not forgiveness or getting back together yet. But it’s hope.

And Jirou will take whatever she can get.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Smokey brand Movie Reviews: Super Green

The Green Knight s finally out and i can see it without having to wait a month and a half! I thank A24 for this rather quick turnaround because this thing has been on my radar fr what seems like forever! I’ve written about this before but A24 is my favorite studio releasing content. Neon is a close second and Netflix is making a real charge, but A24 releases classics. Some of my all-time favorite films are A24 products. Ex Machina, Hereditary, Under the Skin, The VVitch, Uncut Gems, Zola, Midsommar, Lady Bird, Eighth Grade, The Lighthouse, High Life, The Monster, Enemy, Climax, Room, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, The Disaster Artist, and Under the Silver Lake have all impressed in one for or another, all of them A24 offerings. This studio is f*cking amazing and i cannot sing it’s praises enough. They’ve been around for less than a decade, A24 was founded in August of 2012, and they’re brought this level of quality consistently. The Green Knight has all of the workings to slide right into my all-time list, just like Ex Machina and Hereditary did before it. Let’s see if i really love it as much as i think i will.

The Exceptional

The first thing that hits you is how f*cking gorgeous this film is. Seriously, i was immediately captivated by that opening scene with Gawain rushing for Mass. It definitely opens up as the film progresses and you are treated to one of the most visually striking films of the year. This movie could give Denis Villeneuve, Ari Aster, or Robert Eggers a run for their money. Seriously, you can frame several shots in a museum and no one would know the difference between that and the Van Gophs on display.

I r0aely mention this but it’s absolutely necessary that i do in this particular review because it was just that memorable. The sound design made this film. I’m not talking about music choice or score, but the actual sound effects for specific scenes. That sh*t was some of the tightest I've ever hear on a film and it really added to the overall experience. Just the way the Green Knight creaked and popped as he moved was more than enough to get this mention but there is so much  ore than just that. I hate that i had to see this at home because, f*ck, this thing would have sounded like god in a proper theater.

I mentioned that you can frame these shots in a museum before and a lot of that shine belongs to the cinematography. The shots chosen for this film are breathtaking. I imagine a lot of that has to do with location but even the scenes filmed in dank castles and murky bogs popped with that same, meticulous, shot composition and it really gave those scenes life. The were ties when my jaw dropped at the majesty of a scene. The one with the giants immediately comes to mind. Like, f*ck, was that beautiful to witness.

In that same breath, you have to know when to pull back. Editing is just as important to a film as anything else and The Green Knight is cut with a precision I've rarely seen. This thing has no fat whatsoever. It presents to you exactly what you need and little else. I love that. I love that this film has a story to tell and it tells it with extreme prejudice. These cuts were made with intent. That’s rare nowadays.

I also have to give a nod to the use of color and lighting. Again, it’s not something i ever really focus on but goddamn is it necessary for this review. Light plays a very important role in how this story was told. Certain scenes absolutely need it and others are perfectly accentuated by it. It takes a deft hand to juggle such a nuanced aspect of film and The Green Knight has done that the best this year. So far.

This film has a very real, very potent, atmosphere. It’s not tension, not like Uncut Gems of Good Times, but there is this unrelenting sense of dread that runs through this entire film. It’s measured and restrained but it’s always there. I appreciate that. For a film to illicit such emotion out of me is testament to the mastery of it’s visionary.

All of the praise I've given to the technical aspects of this film would be for naught if i didn’t recognize the director, David Lowery. This dude is fast climbing the list of my favorite directors. I actually listed  bunch above but, after seeing what he’s gone with this film, dude is really making a case for himself. He did the Pete’s Dragon remake which i hear as pretty good, and A Ghost Story but i haven’t seen either. Not really my cup of tea. But if they’re as good as The Green Knight, i might have to revisit that thought because, holy sh*t, this dude can direct the f*ck out of a film.

The writing is on point. I legit hesitated to put this on here because it is the weakest aspect of  everything else in this film but that is misleading. The writing is exceptional. There is no way this film could be as good as it is, if the script was dog sh*t. The material given to these performers had to the top tier in order for them to give the performances they did and and they definitely f*cking did that!

This whole cast really f*cking delivered. Sarita Choudhury as Mother and Sean Harris as the King were easily the best of the supporting cast but everyone else brought that same energy. Joel Edgerton, Kate Dickie, and  Barry Keoghan, all deliver powerful performances. Hell, this is the best I've ever seen Erin Kellyman act and i have to give a lot of credit to the overall quality of this cast delivered. That said, there are three individuals who put everyone else to shame and i say that knowing exactly how much praise i just heaped upon them all.

Alicia Vikander comes in and delivers on two roles, Essel and the Lady. This isn’t surprising at all because she always delivers. I’m never disappointed by her performances. Admittedly, i haven’t seen many but that’s because she is very particular about the characters she signs on to portray. That said, it’s weird the two performances she’s done that immediately jump out to me, are both with A24 films. Her Eva in Ex Machina, and that film in general, is what made me even take notice of both her and A24 as a studio. Here we are, seven years later, and she’s still blowing my mind. F*cking exceptional.

Ralph Ineson is almost unrecognizable in the Green Knight make-up but the second he opens his mouth, you immediately recognize that gravitas. There is a weight to this character and you f*cking feel it with every move Ineson makes. Dude isn’t in it much but the scenes he does appear in are absolutely stolen by this big, green, maestro of his craft.

More than anyone, this is Dev Patel’s film. This dude is a great actor but it’s rare someone gets a part where they can really bite into the content but that is not the case with this role. No, sir, this sh*t was tailor made for Patel and he definitely digs right the f*ck in. His Sir Gawain is just as good as his Jamal Malik from Slumdog, if not better. Seriously, this film would be nothing without Patel. As outstanding as every other aspect that i gushed about in this brilliant goddamn film, the very best is Dev Patel’s performance. Seriously, that sh*t, alone, is worth the watch.

The Verdict

The Green Knight is f*cking exceptional and exceeded all of my expectations. This year long wait was more than worth. It's the best film of the year so far, leap-frogging into my top twenty all-time and I've seen thousands of films. This thing is a masterpiece on all levels. Narrative, plot, lighting, performances, sound design, composition, editing, score; It's the closest thing to a technically perfect film I've seen in quite some time. If Dev Patel doesn't get an Oscar nod for this, there is no justice in the world because he f*cking carries this movie. Patel is easily the strongest force driving this incredibly compelling watch, but Alicia Vikander, Erin Kellyman, Sarita Choudhury, Ralph Ineson, Sean Harris, Kate Dickie, and Barry Keoghan all match that energy with f*cking gusto. I was absolutely mesmerized by the way these absolute masters in their craft, embodied and gave their respective characters life, particularly Vikander. She never disappoints.

The only issue I see that would hinder someone actually getting into this film is the fact that it's a little long in the tooth. You never really feel it, as long as you buy into the fact it's a character study and not a high concept fantasy film filled with dragons and sh*t. If you think Michael Bay and Zack Snyder are the pinnacle of cinematic excellence, pass on this. You won't make past the first tn minutes. Also, make better life choices. No, this is about Gawain and it never deviates from that core drive. Weird sh*t happens, sure, but it's nothing as fantastical as Smaug or a Balrog. Even so, this f*cking movie kept me glued to the edge of my seat. I loved every second of it and cannot sing it's praises enough. My only regret is that I didn't get to see it in a proper theater. This f*cker would have been a real experience to see on a proper cinema screen, especially that shot with the giants. The Green Knight is outstanding and deserves all of the praise it's gotten and so much more.

[percyinpanties]

this has been in my drafts since 2018, apparently. I edited this and added to it, and god it feels good to get some words done. have an innocent lil highschool au.

pairing: jercy rating: teen+ (light swearing) 

---------

When something small and sharp hits his cheek, Jason startles out of his thoughts and blinks slowly. His gaze is unfocused, as is his mind - he was so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even quite recall what it was that had his mind this occopied.

Jason blinks again, deliberately slow, trying to clear his vision. For the first few seconds, he isn't sure where he is and what he's doing, let alone what hit his cheek in the first place. Maybe he has imagined it?

His thoughts are still sluggish and Jason has to rub his eyes before the room around him finally comes into focus.

The library. 

Right. Finals.

Jason came here right after his last class, meant to grab some books and hide away in one of the study corners to  go over his notes and force the material into his brain. Apparently the lack of sleep last night, well last week if Jason is fully honest with himself, is catching up to him. 

 Even now, shaken out of his daze by whatever has hit him, Jason's mind is slow to process what is happening. 

How long has he been sitting here? Was he asleep? Did he even read anything before his mind went to a place far far away from where it should be this afternoon? 

Jason looks around. 

On the table, between his own unreadable notes and two open books, sits a small paper airplane. Jason doesn't have to look up to know who the culprit is - the airplane is made of vibrant blue paper and there is only one person at this school who’d even carry something like this in his everyday pack.

“Did I wake you?” The whisper, dramatic and teasing in tone, comes as if on cue from Jason's right. 

Jason aims for a glare when he looks up, but instead ends up meeting Percy's gaze with a weak smile. Unfair paper plane attack or not, Jason evidently had needed the wake-up call. It is probably for the best if Percy's here to distract him, if only for a few minutes.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jason mumbles as Percy pulls out the chair next to him and  turns it around to sit, arms crossed over the backrest. It's only then that Jason realises how empty the library is now. Jason could swear that just five minutes ago, it was brimming with other students and staff, so busy that he hardly found a space to occupy with his own study notes. 

“You didn't answer my texts.” Percy says casually and Jason thinks he imagines there's some concern in Percy’s tone too. “And then Thalia said you hadn't even come home yet. So I thought to myself: Where does one find a nerd two weeks before finals?” 

Jason huffs and playfully punches Percy's arm. There's no heat behind it and judging by the little laugh that escapes Percy, he knows it too.

“How late is it, exactly?” Jason asks, quieter now. 

If it’s late enough that both Percy and Thalia have been worrying, Jason must’ve wasted his entire afternoon sitting around staring at the wall, losing time he can’t afford to lose this close to exams. Sure, his marks have been good this year so far, but that has been because he’s continuously worked for it. His parents, especially his father, have certain expectations and he’s not about to disappoint them. 

Jason takes a shaky breath, closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up to punch the bridge of his nose. He can feel anxiety creeps up in Jason’s chest, like tar filling his lungs. Two weeks is nothing, especially not considering how many topics he still wants to cover again. He knew the content when they were tested on it before, sure, but most of that is months back now and frankly, Jason doesn’t trust his long-time memory all that well.

It’s getting hard to breathe, Jason knows he’s spiraling, but that doesn’t give him any more control over his thoughts.

A hand gently covers Jason's lying on the table and squeezes, stopping the thoughts, if only for a moment. It feels like Jason's heart stutters for a few beats, before resuming its rhythm faster than before. Part of Jason wonders what this means, if it’s only meant to be a calming gesture, but the larger part of him is too scared to question it. None of his other friends are this comfortable being close...

Jason opens his eyes and finds Percy looking at him quizzically. When Percy speaks, his voice betrays nothing. 

“Half past six.” 

Jason groans and drops his head to the table. Of course, he wasted the entire day. He’ll have to stay up again tonight if he wants to make up for it, which means he’ll be tired tomorrow and…

“Which is exactly why I'm here. You need a break, my dude.” Percy sounds half joking, but this time Jason realises it's only to hide the concern. “You need to get out of here. Let's get some food, my treat?” 

When Jason raises his head and looks at him, Percy is watching closely, brow furrowed. 

Food sounds tempting. Jason isn’t sure when he last ate, anyway, not having had time for breakfast in the morning. If it’s already six-thirty, he was supposed to be home for dinner half an hour ago, so all that’s awaiting him there are cold leftovers. Plus, while his mother will hardly have noticed, Jason knows his father won’t be pleased about him missing family dinner, and he doesn’t think he can handle that lecture right now. 

Jason doesn't know how to answer, mainly because Percy's right: This isn’t getting him anywhere right now and he clearly hasn’t done himself any favours by not taking even a single break and studying late most nights. Even so, spending time with Percy now means losing time Jason needs to study and he already knows he’s going to beat himself up for it next week.

“It’s one evening, Jason.” Percy says gently. “I promise you’ll be fine. You’re a smart cookie.”

Jason manages a little smile and turns his hand over under Percy’s palm so his own is pressed to Percy’s. The other boy doesn’t hesitate, he shifts his hand to lace their fingers together and this - this certainly isn’t something that friends do, generally. 

“You gotta take care of yourself, too.” Percy says now, looking at their joined hands rather than meeting Jason’s gaze. His cheeks look a little pink, but Jason is sure he must be imagining that. “And if you can’t, I’m still here to help with that, yeah?”

Jason’s chest feels tight, although this is entirely different than the heavy anxiety that took him over before. It’s not like someone’s tied a too tight ribbon around his ribcage, but rather feels like his heart has grown too big for its case.

It's very quiet for a moment, then Jason sighs. Jason doesn’t really want to face his parents yet, and what is one night, really?

“Fine.” He says, defeated. Percy squeezes his hand. “I’m starving anyway.”

 Percy smiles so brightly that it makes something inside Jason ache, and yet he finds himself smiling back.

Fifteen minutes later, they're walking down the halls of the school toward the car park. Percy is carrying the books Jason has checked out of the library, and even though Jason insisted earlier that he was fine carrying them by himself, he's glad now for the weight lifted from him. At first, every step away from the library had filled Jason with guilt, thoughts of how much time he’s wasting that he won’t get back when he realises in a week how much he’s still got left to study, but with Percy here, with his persistent chatter and teasing, it’s easier to push them aside for now.

He called Thalia, told her he’d be back later, that he needed a little break. He hadn’t even gotten to asked her about it when she promised to cover for him, so their father wouldn’t make a big fuzz about the whole thing. 

“I can practically hear you thinking.” Percy says and nudges his shoulder against Jason's lightly. Neither of them have spoken in a while, and Jason knows it’s mostly because he is overthinking again. “Let it go, just for tonight, yeah? You deserve a break.” 

Jason knows that, objectively, Percy is right. 

He knows that he’s been overworking himself, that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep and not allowing himself enough breaks. He knows that, at this rate, all his studying will be for naught anyway. That does nothing to lighten the anxiety that comes over him every time someone so much as mentions their exams though. Most of the pressure originates in his own perfectionism, Jason knows all that, but even so he can't bring himself to care even a little less. Failing is not an option for him.

When Jason doesn't answer, Percy keeps talking. 

He is speaking quieter and slower than he usually does, which Jason and his tired brain are grateful for. It’s about nothing important, not really, and maybe that is intentional too. Little by little, Jason finds himself relaxing again. Percy’s voice is soothing, there’s no edge to it, no hidden jab or teasing. Jason wonders if Percy knows how much he appreciates this right now.

The walk to the car park isn’t far. Percy has parked his crappy old car close to the entrance and Jason jogs a few steps ahead when he spots it to open the trunk for Percy to dump the books in.

“Perfect. Now, Chinese?”  Percy asks and Jason frowns.  He still has a hand on the back door of the car, halfway pulled down to close it again. It takes him entirely too long to realise Percy is asking about food. 

“Or…” Percy adds with a drawl, grin growing on his face. “We could get milkshakes.” 

Jason perks up at that. Percy knows him far too well and Jason knows exactly which fast food joint Percy is thinking of. He must know it’s Jason’s favourite too, or he wouldn’t look so smug at Jason’s reaction.

“I want a milkshake.” Jason mumbles before he can stop himself. He looks at Percy with his best attempt at puppy eyes, and given his current state he probably looks more convincing than on an average day.

Percy grins at him.  “Milkshakes it is then.”

Percy’s car starts with a sputter. 

As they drive, Jason isn't quite asleep, but he is not really awake either.

Percy doesn't seem to mind.

They don’t speak this time, Percy turns the radio to some random station on a low volume and starts humming along under his breath whenever he recognises a song. It makes Jason’s lips twitch with a smile, and when he turns his head to the side he can see Percy drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and dancing in his seat as well.

Percy catches Jason looking, looks back and winks at Jason before his eyes are back on the road. The action is so quick, Jason isn’t sure if he hasn’t imagined it. Jason feels his cheeks warm, but his gaze lingers a little longer, taking in Percy's profile with his messy hair, plush lips and long lashes. He’s pretty, Jason thinks, then bites his lip and turns his gaze away. The lack of sleep is getting to him, clearly, and he shakes his head lightly as if that would help push the thoughts away from the dangerous path they’ve threatened to go down on just now.

 They get their food from the drive-through, and Percy takes him to the lake just outside of town. The sun’s going down, setting over the water and tinting everything orange and red. If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think this was a place Percy would take his dates to. 

It’s blissfully quiet, and luckily just warm enough that they can sit down on the grass outside while they share their food. Jason practically lets himself fall to the ground and Percy isn’t far behind. 

There’s no one around but them, the air is pleasantly crips and this far out and away from school and his family, Jason feels some of the stress fade away. Maybe he can allow himself this, just tonight, to let go for a little while.

“Thank you.” Jason says quietly, picking at their food before turning his head to look at Percy. They’re sitting close, almost touching, and for a second Jason contemplates reaching out his hand to take Percy’s in his own like the other boy had done in the library earlier. Jason knows though that it would be different now, where no one could see, where it’s just them, and when Jason has no real reason to reach out.

Percy knocks their knees together playfully, smiles from behind his milkshake. Jason can’t quite pull his gaze away.

“Anytime.” Percy says, and Jason knows he means it too.

Jason bites his lip, tears his eyes away and casts them out to the lake instead. He’s not quite sure what is going on with him, with them, but this isn’t the first time he’s noticed that more often than not, he feels entirely different around Percy than he does around their other friends. It’s not in a bad way, that he knows, because this, the here and now with Percy at his side, it feels peaceful, and it feels right. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Percy says, and this time, he leans into Jason’s side. It’s unprompted and unexpected, but works as intended, it stops Jason from thinking, at least for the moment. 

Percy’s cheek rests against his shoulders, their arms and thighs pressed together. Jason feels the warmth of Percy’s skin, the soft fabric of his sweater,... 

“I know.” Jason replies, because it’s true, and there is no point in lying to Percy. “I… don’t think I can stop, though?”

It’s phrased like a question, rather than a statement, and it makes Percy laugh quietly before tilting his head back to look at Jason.

“Oughta help you with that, don’t I?” He says, and he grins, and Jason’s heart does a funny little squeeze in his chest. His gaze falls to Percy’s lips, for only a split second, and before he can work out where his thoughts are taking him this time, Percy seems to be moving closer.

Ping!

Ping. Ping.

Jason blinks and Percy stills. For a split-second, neither moves, then Percy shifts back and Jason turns to the side to check his phone. His cheeks are burning, but even so, he has no idea what just happened, or what was about to happen. It feels… important, somehow, like this was a turning point, or a chance that won’t come back, and Jason isn’t sure why or how, but he’s sure he’s ruined it regardless. 

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2020 #2: Sway

((Early ARR))

The heat of Vesper Bay rose off the pavements of the harbor town, even as the sun sank over the distant horizon line across the water. Thancred watched the minstrels set up, the dancing girls waiting for the new songs they would play. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of their newest recruit crossing the square, also studying the change in the town’s energy.

“Aeryn!” He called, a hand raised in greeting.

She nodded and smiled, coming over to meet him. “Need something?” She asked.

He shook his head. “No no, nothing like that. I just thought you’d want to stick around and see what’s happening here, before returning to the Waking Sands.”

She only replied with that quizzical little head tilt she often made, dark brows drawn together. Thancred gestured to the square. “The hot day ends, the cool night begins, and in between, there’s a perfect time for--ah, there!”

A lute was strummed and a drum began to beat. Someone had a fiddle, and there were two different kinds of pipes. They started off with a merry jig, the dancing girls laughing as they kicked their feet, eventually synchronizing their movements from long habit as they replied to the minstrels’ tune.

Thancred watched with a grin, sure to give each lady the attention she deserved--naught less than expected of him by the locals after all this time, and he had to admit it was a lovely view. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aeryn’s fingers drumming along on her crossed arms. She almost shuffled her feet but seemed to stop herself, and he began to pay a bit more attention to his new colleague.

“Looking forward to tomorrow?” he asked casually.

She almost started, not expecting him to speak up--she had been engrossed in the music, he realized with a tinge of regret. She glanced at him and shrugged with a single small shake of her head.

“I understand if it may seem daunting, first assignment for our group and all. But you’ll have me along to lend a hand,” he continued, giving her a saucy wink.

She blinked at him, a bit of a blush rising on her face before she looked away quickly. It seemed rather easy to bring a bit of color to her tanned cheeks, he was noticing. That was far too tempting for fun, especially when it seemed the rare hint into her mind; the woman was naturally quiet.

“You’ll have to speak up a bit more to keep me company,” he teased lightly. “While I’m excellent with charades, a quick word works best in most circumstances.”

Her motions froze. “No.”

He was surprised by her tone; low and thick with anger and something else, old enough to make it difficult to identify without knowing her better. He turned to Aeryn, blinking. “I’m sorry, my friend; have I upset you?” Leave it to him to overstep--again, given his attempts at flirtation before realizing they would only ever be rebuffed.

“I say what I must, when I must,” Aeryn said, voice calmer than her stormy eyes implied.

“Ah, I apologize; I meant it as a jest, naught more. A poor one, obviously. I understand how it could sound, and I am sorry.”

She looked away for a moment. “I’ve been told I don’t speak up enough. As a judgment.”

“And I have been told I talk too much,” he replied with a grin, trying to diffuse the situation his careless words had created. “So nevermind all that; you continue the stoic heroics, while I do the talking. We can balance one another.” That got him a small smile, and some of the clouds clearing from her eyes. Such an expressive shade of grey they were, he noted again.

Aeryn looked back to the square. “...I’m sorry too.”

He quirked a brow. “For what exactly?”

“Snapping,” she said, then hesitated. If that was ‘snapping’, he’d hate to see her truly riled. “I was tol--I know not to take you too seriously in casual conversation.”

Gods, Yda really had stacked the deck against him with this one, hadn’t she? He would have to do something about that once they returned from their mission. He’d have plenty of time to think of an appropriate prank that wouldn’t get him into too much trouble with Papalymo.

In the now, however, Thancred only laughed. “Any warnings my esteemed colleagues gave you on that front--are probably true, to be perfectly honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged expansively, a sheepish look on his face. It was enough to draw out a brief giggle, so he called that a win. Perhaps tomorrow would not be so awkward after all.

The tune changed once again, something a bit slower but no less energetic, more strings and drums, a foreign sound he couldn’t quite make out, though Aeryn straightened a bit, eyes gleaming silver in surprise. One of the dancing girls, after some giggling discussion with her peers, began to move to the music, her motions graceful as she spun and wove across the space alone.

“Know this tune?” Thancred asked quietly, watching Aeryn more than the scantily-clad miqo’te.

Aeryn nodded. She was trying, and failing, not to move in time with the music.

“Thavnairian, isn’t it?” He continued, only half certain he had it right before she nodded again, a bit of mist gathering in her eyes now. He recalled Y’shtola mentioning Aeryn apparently hailed from the Near East. He turned back to the dancing girl. “Know you this dance, then?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. “Yes,” Aeryn finally replied. “But it’s really meant to be done with a partner.”

“You could join her,” he recommended, just to see her reaction.

Aeryn startled, that blush blooming across her features again. “I...wouldn’t want to intrude, and…” she looked around the square, and shook her head again.

“Can you dance?” he asked.

She gave him a sharp look and nod. Of course she could. Having seen how certainly she moved in combat, he could only imagine how graceful she would be in less fraught circumstances.

“I’d like to see it,” he said. “I’m fond of dancing myself. Good way to learn about someone, and foster a bit of trust, don’t you think?”

She opened her mouth, stopped, brows knit in thought for a moment. Then: “...Are you asking me to dance?”

He smirked. “I admit I’m unfamiliar, but the demonstration has been...notable,” he said, giving the dancing girl in the square an exaggerated look-over. He did not miss Aeryn rolling her own eyes in response. “And with a knowledgeable partner taking the lead, I’m sure to find my footing quickly.”

She looked at the square again, at the minstrels and the dancer, and for a moment, she seemed almost willing. But then she shook her head, stepping back. 

“It can’t be any harder than facing those paragons and their dark minions,” he said, quieter now. “And I see how your feet are itching to join. You’ve been swaying to the music this entire time.”

She blinked at him for a moment, eyes wide in surprise, stiffening as she realized how much her body language was giving away.

Thancred shrugged in good-natured defeat. “You don’t have to, of course; I simply thought I’d make the offer.”

“Maybe another time,” she blurted before turning and walking swiftly away from the square toward the Waking Sands.

He watched her go, sighing a little; he had hoped to convince her. It would have been an excellent way to gauge her outside of combat, when he was too often busy watching his own neck.

Ah well; in the meantime, the demonstrating dancer was trying rather blatantly to catch his eye as the song came to an end. He could worry about taking his new colleague’s measure on the morrow, as they journeyed to Drybone.

Perhaps once they returned he would find a way to convince Aeryn to dance.

[efrmellifer]

La Neige

Wolmeric Week May 2021 Day 2: Snow

Etien stirred the soup, squinting at it as if it was withholding answers from her.

Well. It wasn’t exactly a soup. But it was soupy, the kind of dish that was served piping hot in a bowl but defied the definition of soups and stews. It looked ready, though. She dipped a spoon into it, lifting it to her lips to taste. Perfect.Now she just had to wait for Aymeric to come home. And she really hoped that was soon.

She’d had a feeling a storm was coming when she had woken up; the faint throb above her eyebrow had been all the warning she needed that there would be wind aplenty, and a deluge of flakes, before the day was done.

But it had been coming down faster than it could be salted and shoved aside, and so she was worried. Some part of her knew it wasn’t necessary, that he was built of sterner stuff than needed to be worried about in a snowstorm, but she knew how bad they could get. And darker thoughts than him getting snowed into his office had come true.

She kept dinner on the fire, making sure it didn’t burn. If nothing else, Aymeric would appreciate a hot meal on a day like today.

So Etien sighed, deflating in relief so much that her dress threatened to slip from her shoulders when she heard the door open, followed by the usual greetings to the master of the house (for whatever meaning that had).

She trotted out from the kitchen, padding down the hallway with her usual eagerness, reaching him just as he’d hung his coat.

“You made it through the blizzard, hmm?” she asked, letting herself be swept up into his arms with a laugh that trended toward a shocked cry when her feet left the floor.

“Of course I did; I had a family to get home to.”

She smiled, the scar on her nose less visible as her joyful expression crinkled it and the corners of her eyes. “And said family is glad you’re here.” She kissed him, warmly but briefly, and he set her down again.

“It’s really coming down out there,” she mumbled as they walked through the house. “But the cold can’t reach us here.”

Aymeric pulled out her chair for her before he sat down and looked in curious puzzlement at the shallow bowl sitting on the table for him. “What is this?” He looked up right after asking it, hoping against hope that he hadn’t caused offense.

She just tipped her head toward it, as if urging him to try it. “It’s a dish from the Shroud. Up there, so close to Ishgard but so far from all your customs and trade, we developed dishes like this for those days when Halone’s breath bore down our necks.” She watched him turn back to the bowl.

“I hope you haven’t used cream in this. That is,I appreciate your attempts to keep me well-guarded against the cold with a lovingly-made repast, but I know cream upsets your stomach, and I—”

“It’s thickened with popotoes, darling.”

“I see. Well then, no need for fretting, is there? I cannot waitto try it.” Ever the better-trained in etiquette, he dragged his spoon across the bottom of the bowl, leading away from him, and leaned in to sip from the spoon’s side. “Delicious.”

She gave him another sunny smile, sharp-toothed and sweet. “I’m so glad.”

He watched her eat, tipping the spoonfuls into her mouth, until she felt his eyes on her and looked up, licking her bottom lip.

She blinked, finishing swallowing before she spoke. “Yes?”

“It’s nothing. I simply have much to enjoy before me, in a bowl and in the opposite chair.”

She let out a flustered giggle, her spoon still in her hand as she brought it to cover her mouth.

When they’d drained their bowls of every drop, they retired to the drawing room, the same as always. But in a departure from the ordinary, Aymeric draped himself over the love-seat, his head lying in Etien’s lap, rather than settling her in his.

“Pray forgive me if I tire too easily tonight,” he said, voice already drifting toward the tone he took when he was over-tired. “Enduring another joint session of the Houses and then a blizzard is enough to leave even the strongest-willed of us achy and wrung-out.”

With a light swipe of her middle finger, she brushed aside the locks of hair that hung between his eyes. “There’s naught more to endure for today. Rest.”

Pillowed on Etien’s lap, Aymeric let his head clear as he watched the fire and thought of nothing. No planning his next overture in the House of Lords, no devising a training for the Temple Knights. His only thoughts were how pretty the snow looked, slowed now from its former furor and cascading in thick flakes outside the window.

But here, inside, he was warm, every sensation of his breath magnified in his chest by the comforting weight of Etien’s hand resting on his breastbone.

His every blink was getting longer, his eyelids heavier.

He felt like a boy again, warm and well-fed and basking in affection. He could dimly recall moments like this in his childhood, his mother letting her fingers card through his hair as she waited for him to fall asleep.

He used to struggle to sleep, with so much to worry about floating around his head as he set it to the pillow. There was still just as much, if not more now, and his responsibility for these things only larger now than before.

Yet these days, sleep came more easily, often because he was so exhausted.

But not tonight. Tonight, he had been brought moments from his nightly rest’s oblivion as a result of being so well cared for.

Etien’s hand drifted over his hair, one nail delving into the waves of it, and he hummed in delight at the gesture.

“I love you,” he mumbled, aware as he heard them how unclear his words were. Ah, well. This wasn’t some grand oratory by which he would be judged. It was just his natural reaction to her care. And it was true, he did.

She laughed lightly. “We had better get you to bed. You deserve it, after a long day.” She wiggled out from under him, then helped him up, leading him to bed.

When they’d settled—him still in his day clothes and her in her nightgown—she gave him another kiss as she settled the covers over them both. Then she answered his proclamation from moments ago. “I love you, too.”

It was with that final thought that Aymeric started to give in to sleep, finally. Nothing more to endure today, and not much better that he could hear. The snow out the window was like falling stars as the day faded away.

[blankdblank]

Acorn Castles

Ok, here is the Firebender series. I know! I finally finished it after having been swamped with ideas for other series. :D

All –

@himoverflowers​​, @theincaprincess​​, @aspiringtranslator​​, @sweeticedtea​​, @thegreyberet​​, @patanghill17​​, @jesgisborne​​, @curvestrology​​, @alishlieb​​, @jogregor​​, @armitageadoration​​, @fizzyxcustard​​, @here2have-fun​​, @lilith15000​​, @marvels-ghost​​, @catthefearless​​, @imjusthereforthereads​​, @c-s-stars​​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​, @mariannetora​​, @shes-a-killer-kween​, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​

@bun-bun-the-rabbit​​

Bruised and bloody you sat by the stream waiting on the Dwarves to finish bathing for your turn. None of the Dwarves wished to see you in pain or so badly afflicted by training. Dwalin out of all of them bore the weight the hardest, silently wringing the blood stain from his knee on his pants from a move ending with his leg hitting you in the nose. There was little faith when Gandalf showed up with your shivering wide eyed self to BagEnd after having wrangled another innocent bystander into the mix of his Journey claiming you would be the perfect Dragon Slayer.

A life of isolation on a tiny island with nothing but snow, snow and more snow a prank from the other young adults in the village ended with your being sent out to sea on a patch of ice. Another world where you should have been raised from firmer stuff but you were a scientist, a dreamer child of the two top researchers in protection of whales and all Arctic life leaving you less than popular for their impressions of the villagers who had been there forever holding less than factual impressions of each creature you came across.

It was decided to train you up as you couldn’t be left alone and no matter how hard you were hit even by accident you always got up and even once made Dwalin impressively scoot back half a foot in a full body slam at his urging leaving you groaning on your back in the collapse after. A rousing round of claps and cheers sure didn’t help your dislocated shoulder Oin was less than gentle in twisting back into place triggering a three day death of your arm unable to be rotated at all issuing warnings to him not to mend your dislocations that way again, because they knew it would occur again.

You were never greatly overweight, but in the surface of the water it was as if you were looking at a stranger. Thin and lean with dips and curves tracing each burning torn muscle throbbing to warn you of its injuries through each movement. Even in drying you could feel the silhouette of your figure had altered beyond what you had assumed possible. Not that you lacked motivation, you had scores to any task you wished to take on, merely when it came to fitness you preferred having a trainer or workout buddy, something severely lacking back home where you had no friends except for your giant fluffy bear dog now splashing through the lake following Thorin’s raven Roac. He loves to run and so the treadmill was your go to for cardio, something now helping at least to keep you from a heart attack through the body morphing wrestling and weapon training bouts.

Using your severely blistered hands bundled in sturdy unforgiving bandages small smooth stones were gathered up and in a circle you began to build the first house. Always while the men bathed or hunted for supper once you had been guarded through gathering wood or water on your own you would be found creating tiny villages with stones, clover, moss, twigs, leaves or any other items you might find around camp. Each day growing more extravagant with crude shovels from sticks used to carve out little lakes or streams through the town stirring soft grins onto your face. The act itself childish from the days of their youth stirring memories from each Dwarf of their own building blocks from days long gone, yet the act all the more admirable to them as it showed along with your adamant resolve that there were similarities between your races and upon that you might just find comfort in Erebor.

“Uncle, she’s doing it again.” Kili murmured in Khuzdul using his arm in a faked scrub of his face and hair to block the movement of his mouth.

“I see that,” Balin replied while Thorin wrung out his hair on the bank slowing himself to dry a bit more before pulling on his pants. Always as the leader he had to inspect his Company, even the ever unwelcoming Bilbo who did all he could to puff up and make certain it was known he did not take kindly to stares. You had shared that back home you would often wake up with small bruises without source. But the truth was far from comforting as through training they could find hand prints and large swollen bruised chunks of your body often leading to one or more of them to have to excuse and re-gather themselves from bursting into tears for the pain them in their stronger physiques had put upon you.

He hated this, but you would never survive if you were not trained, even in speaking often found to be too shy to meet the eye of those who spoke to you around the dinner fire. Gaze forward making certain not to impose. Not to be a hindrance. Not to create extra work for the Dwarves who made note of every accomplishment. Including the first time you could lift the saddle of your horse on your own halting Bofur and Bifur from assisting you on dressing him every day that stirred a wide smile from yourself to the ground in a silent moment of self pride bolstering the mood of the men on the beginnings of that gusty unpleasant day.

“Ah, a fine village, is that your former home?” Bilbo asked, the Hobbit’s arrival at your side had the Dwarves’ beards bristling as they didn’t notice his departure and from irritation on the chance you might be hindered from your silent hobby of assumed he was ridiculing you.

“Oh, no. There’s a game, back home, where you get to build your village and there are these houses with animals in them and you can go through the island fishing and collecting fruit and digging up treasure. I usually just recreate the layouts from the different versions I saw in a book on the game.”

Bilbo grinned inching closer on his knees helping to secure a tiny fence you secured the end of by winding another blade of grass to bind it to the twigs around it. “Well a fine job you are doing if I might say so. Built many a fairy dwelling myself in my Fauntling days.”

“Well, way I see it, if I build a Kingdom a day from here to Erebor I might be strong enough to face a Dragon.”

Bilbo patted your arm, “That is a marvelous plan. Perhaps I might take up building myself to practice planning on burgling a hoard. Confidence is half the effort, well concluded.”

Smirking to yourself as the words sank into the hearts of the hushed Dwarves you said, “Or at the very least I could fib and say I have experience in building to make it on a work crew. Lord knows there will be plenty to rebuild if it’s how I picture it. Dragons aren’t very slender creatures, all tail and wings bound to knocked a wall or two.”

Bilbo asked, “Any clue on how to face him yet?”

“Well, one would hope he has just left when we arrive, but fill a hand with dirt the other with wishes, which fills faster. What my Dad always said.” It wasn’t pride in your tone but pain, they could all feel the pain those words inflicted on you, how harshly they resonated and now they all had a deep ache to ensure any wish of yours possible to fulfill they would ensure came true. “Truth is, our Lords and Princes slew our Dragons to the last one proving their might. There isn’t much known about them to the public past they are gone now.”

Bilbo wet his lips seeing your melancholy gaze to the moss roof you were adding to a little bridge with a road underneath to help with rainwater collection, “Why does that make you sad?”

Glancing up you shook your head saying, “It seems you can’t throw a stone without hitting someone or a people with a terrible tale to tell about the Fire Nation, where I came from. Nothing but cinders and burnt bloody paths to bring about our glorious empire.” His hand extended to land on your knee drawing your eyes to his, “We’re not all bad. Some of us are just trying to make it day to day while our soldiers are out ruining our honor. We used to be so great, so good, that’s why the dragons gave us their fire in the beginning. And we repayed them by hunting them down and mounting their heads on our temple walls.”

Bilbo shook his head while the Dwarves just about were ready to cry for this truth they were just learning, “You are not bad. Farthest thing from it. There is no Fire Nation here, you are from the Shire.” He said nodding his head, “Consider yourself an honorary Baggins. I’m certain together we can see the end of that greedy old dragon, hopefully he’s long to bones when we get there, but in these lands our Dragons from what I’m told give naught but grief and destruction, no fire givers here. Two separate buckets entirely.” That drew a weak try for a chuckle from you and he wet his lips asking the question burning at him, “How did you end up all alone where Gandalf found you?”

“Oh,” you sighed out, “My father angered the Fire Lord so he banished us to a Northern Water Colony in the middle of a tundra of an island. The other children despised me, for where I came from, what they thought I was. But my parents were scientists, studied the animals and plants, what little there was. One day they must have snuck in unhitching my wagon from the trailer and left me and my dog out on a block of ice not realizing it’d break off and send me out to sea.”

“Varmints!” Dwalin growled drawing your eye a moment luring mutters of his try to not rant about how they didn’t deserve your company or presence on their island at all for treating you as such.

“Wasn’t all bad, I got big Bo out of the move. He doesn’t mind my company.”

.

“Trolls have the ponies,” Fili whispered to Kili only to have them flinch when you whispered behind them.

“What are trolls?” They both looked at you and you asked, “Like live under bridges, Trolls? We only have those in stories. How do you fight them?”

Kili, “Best way is daylight, but that’s hours off yet.”

“Boggins!” The pair said and rushed off to fetch Bilbo.

Under furrowed brows your eyes narrowed finding the ponies and from behind a tree you eyed a giant bubbling cauldron for a stew. All at once Bilbo was suddenly upside down gripped by a hand without a source and in the moment of deliberation whether or not to disarm to the order of the invisible Troll the men all seemed to be looking up at. Hard and fast you raced out and slammed your feet into the cauldron sending it onto the now screaming trio you caught faint slivers of from the scalding liquid sliding down their bodies. While the Company had gathered to catch Bilbo, who was sent flying your eyes scanned over the clearing to your quickening breaths asking, “Where are they?!”

The last of the liquid had lessened to where you could barely make it out in the campfire aiding in shadows to blot out their heavy steps in the grass, “What does she mean?” Gloin asked stirring questioning mutters from the Dwarves.

A swing of an arm straight for your head had Thorin shouting, “Down!”

You complied and Bifur asked, “You can’t see them? At all?”

“Sunlight,” you muttered, “Turn around! Cover your eyes!” A hand back to the campfire through a deep inhale spurred on a stunning back flip away from the invisible trio and in a wave of arms to a pausing position with hands joined outstretched in front of you the Dwarves’ mouths dropped to the wave of fire flying from the wood to your palms. A circle of your hands and a wave like motion of your arm to your right to a lift of your leg to ease it back close to a lunge began the circle of the brightening flames behind your back. The swing of your left arm came with a pendulum spin with your leg kicking up as your torso dropped to rise again, a quarter of a pirouette motion with your leg came before another dropping spin with arms guiding the flames to spark up. Fingertips gliding through the wall of flames stirring up blips of lightning while the Trolls shielded their eyes and the Dwarves turned while Bilbo hid himself behind Bombur. 

Brighter and brighter in the distance the Elves on guard took notice of the sunlit bubble just hours to midnight. Deep breaths to the dimming of the light had the group peeking out to watch your final paused pose with palms sliding together in front of your chest through the drop of your foot to plant beside your other foot. Bilbo asked in his inching step out, “Fire Nation? You, didn’t mean, literal fire the Dragons gave you?”

“Well,” you said then wet your lips that only stayed dry like the rest of your mouth. “We have an internal flame, I’m only self trained. Dad hated benders, having worked so long under them.”

Dwalin, “benders?”

“Those in the Fire Nation who can control fire. My parent’s were non-benders I couldn’t tell them. But there was no shortage of books to sneak from the library on bending techniques.”

Thorin just about hummed out, “You can control fire? Does Gandalf know of this?”

“No.” A whine from Bo turned your head to find him dragging a sack of potatoes you claimed and opened, “Potatoes?” That had the search for treasure on lit by a torch from the campfire you had sent the flames back to. Inside the hoard from the food you followed Thorin’s call to bring you over.

“Miss Pear, here,” your eyes fell to the twin blades and bow with a quiver he packed for you with arrows from several other half packed quivers found within the hoard. “These are more suited for someone your height, Elven made by the looks of it, light and sturdy. Might not trust the lot, but the forest dwellers can smith a fine blade.”

“Thank you,” to your braid hanging frayed over your chest his eyes sank making yours as well, “Something on me?”

Catching those same silver flecked purple eyes looking down at him he shook his head stealing another glance to your dusty dirtied wild curls normally in a shimmering white with speckles of tiny hues of colors temptingly close to opals under direct moon or sunlight nearly driving the Company to requesting a lock of it to treasure always. “Just, your braid has seen better days. I must ask though, did your parents have hair similar to yours?”

“Oh, no. Mother had the curls, but she went into labor while a volcano erupted and sought shelter in a temple for the spirit of the magma. When I was born my eyes and hair were like this.” Down your gaze shifted and you added, “Part of why I was decided to wed my betrothed.”

Balin, “You we’re separated from your lover?”

Locking eyes on him you shook your head, “I’ve never met Turok, his father once in passing when I was a child. He was a General and spoke to the Fire Lord who proclaimed the match.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed, “The Fire Lord proclaimed your match?”

You nodded, “Anyone of standing in the Fire Nation weds who the Fire Lord chooses for us.”

“That’s absurd!” Came at once from the Company and Bombur said, “And terribly cruel. Did you find one you wished to marry but could not?”

“No, I was sent to an all girls school once my match was set and I was secluded from any males outside my bloodline. Until we got sent to the Water Tribe village that is. There was no risk of any trying to befriend me let alone try for a match with me.”

Thorin let out a growling breath and locked his eyes on yours to say, “There is a great deal of cruelty I wish to blow back onto your clan for what you have endured.”

Dwalin said, “We will ensure when we are toasting and feasting to our return you will have no shortage of dance partners.”

“Oh, well, you might have to teach me the dances. We weren’t allowed to dance until our wedding lessons for the ceremony.”

For a tense moment the group held back their comments and Bombur broke the silence, “We should load the wagon with the food we have found, what could be salvaged, then rest up for he night back at camp and move on ahead.”

.

Across your back Bo slept in his usual way covering most of your body comforting the Dwarves that while you had a thick fur coat too warm for the chilly front rolling in leaving you just to your bedroll and a thin blanket that you would be warm enough. Past the now statue Trolls and bunnies and foxes eating the veggies from the spilled cauldron Gandalf strolled curious of what had occurred through the night. The trunk spotted through the cover parted by his staff on the back of your wagon he had found you, Bo and your things inside of he eyed the gold and treasure that with a muttered enchantment would not be visible to any outside the Company while inside the wagon.

Drawing back his staff he continued past the wagon finding you again with the creeping sunrise seated upright on your own a bit of distance from the camp giving off a faint shimmer through your morning meditations. Another odd trait the Dwarves tolerated once Gandalf had given his best guess it was a time for reflection to see if the Valar might send you guidance on your road ahead. A stick crunching underfoot opened your eyes and he could feel your return to the present next seeing your body turn and rise to grin in the usual way and welcome him back again.

Disbelieving Gandalf eyed you with Bofur and Bifur holding your hands a few moments into Thorin’s defense of you in that if Gandalf, who brought you into this Company, doubted your abilities then he did not deserve a demanded performance of said abilities. The dispute solidifying that there would be no trip to Rivendell souring Gandalf’s mood entirely to vanishing on the wind as soon as he had arrived to try and speak with Elrond to lure the Company there.

“Don’t you lower your eyes,” Gloin said as you helped to clear up camp in readying to head out. “Stubborn Wizard should have never thought he could demand a display, you were trembling after stoning those Trolls. No need to strain yourself without cause.”

Dwalin patted your back in passing you with his saddle resting on his shoulder in a subtle sign not to back up. “Listen to him Lass, not as if the wandering folk can control our Company. Barely a month all together that Wizard has traveled with us always off on the wind. You have seniority.”

Oin came over triple checking, “You are certain you are not burned?”

“Fire is more than heat, it’s light, a living thing. I can be burned but it would take some doing and I would have to be caught off guard.”

Oin nodded passing you a kerchief with a few berries in it, “A snack, last not scavenged by critters before the looming frost.”

He walked off with your thanks and the group made certain that you made it up onto your horse with ease as Nori and Dori secures their ponies behind Gandalf’s horse to pull the wagon they shared the front bench to. South you turned and for days stealing glances back when pausing for breaks distant echoes of more horses kept luring your attention to the empty distance even through the start of another deluge. Grumpy in the wagon Bo slept or moped looking through the front window lying on top of your bags while you sat under your rain cloak trying to keep from nodding off at your body’s urge to curl up when it rained. Another adorable trait for the Dwarves who ensured to have your tent ready upon camping on rainy days to grant you a mini nap before waking you for meals.

“I heard it that time,” Ori exclaimed as you turned for the end of the green pastures towards the distant mountains with slightly rockier ground around a well worn dirt path the men claimed their kin used often when they cross these ways.

“See! I’m not crazy!”

“No one said you were,” Bombur said patting his hand on your leg to his right unable to reach your knee on your tall horse.

Thorin stayed in a huff, “Probably those Elves Gandalf was so keen on visiting. We will lose them in the pass to the Mines.”

“What’s that like?”

Dwalin, “Dark,”

Fili, “Thousands of goblins,”

Kili, “Wargs too! One of the most winding forgetful paths our kin have laid to ward off intruders.”

“Sounds cozy,” Bilbo muttered and Thorin glanced back at you with a nod of his head, “If you feel up to it you could ride up with us up front.”

“I’m good back here out of your way. You know the path. Besides I have a habit of startling my horse friend here still.”

Lowly he chuckled and turned forward remembering the time a you had woken up from another rainy day nap and made your horse rear up sending you hard onto your back in the mud after your full body jerk to a leaf hitting your face. “Change your mind just trot on up.”

.

Dark and full of screeches the pass stretched on and on. When a glowing breath of a tiny flame behind your hand to peek at your pocket watch on your lap signaled for the night to camp in the pitch black cavern. A small cave was located and thanks to your flame between your palms it was lit up for all to sit inside once two axes were used to secure the cover for the entrance.

Between Bifur and Bofur you crept to the dark lapping river announcing its location even in the dark, another silent marker for their kin who unlike you and Bilbo had a clear view of the path with their eyes so tuned to the dark. Listening between shuddering breaths uncertain of when you had ever been in a place so dark stirring up a fear you didn’t want to admit their kind could not understand as the darkness was not debilitating to them. By feel alone each water skin was lowered into the frigid waters bubbling until full signaling your move to fill the next. “What is that?” You asked eyeing a glint in the distance to your right upstream.

By the sound of their collars shifting you knew they eyed the path to the right finding the odd glint you must be speaking of. Along the muddy ground under the surface it bumped and bobbed until wetting your lips you set the skins down to dunk your arm down nearly to your shoulder. Biting back a wince and gasp from the temperature you kept reaching seeing it was lower than your hand causing your knees on the edge of the river to slide. Onto your belt securing your over shirt the pair took hold to keep you on the shore watching your shift back as the slimy muddy mess with the glowing core came closer to the surface. “It’s slimy,” You muttered and from the hard rocky edge of the stream your other hand lowered to start scrubbing only brightening the area. Hastily Bifur removed his cloak to dangle around the water above your heads and hands blocking some of it. Above the surface the brightly glowing stone with a milky galaxy of glittering mist and waves in spectrums of colors shifted in your palms now fully cleaned narrowing the pupils of the awed Dwarves and yourself. Their focus shifted to returning to the cave as you asked, “What sort of stone is this?”

Bofur said, “Best take it inside.”

“Right,” You said hastily plopping it though the neck of your shirt darkening the world to you again for Bifur to re-secure his cloak around his neck. “Sorry.”

Bofur patted your back translating Bifur’s signing, “No apologies, we admired it as well. Quite a treasure you found there.”

Water skins were gathered up and to the cave the pair guided you to find the Dwarves smirking taking notice of your soaked sleeves. “Fall in?” Kili chortled out to Fili’s snickering.

Bifur however signed that you had found something and mouths dropped with Gloin saying, “Glowing stone? What stone?”

After ensuring the cover was secured behind you, awkwardly you dug into your outer shirt to bring out the lemon sized stone filling every crack of the cave with brilliant light. Dropping the jaws of the Dwarves who each tenderly took their chance to inspect it while Bilbo straightening up the blanket he had set down for your spot to keep a chill off you from the freezing stone similar to his spot. At his side you heard the debating Dwarves unable to come to a conclusive name for the stone that as Bilbo finally got his turn he asked noticing the tears in your eyes at another glance to the swirling colors inside that had quickened and slowed by how far it was from you. “Miss Pear, why are you crying?”

Post subtle sniffle you answered, “I don’t know why, but there’s something about it that makes me sad. Like an old memory.” Ori beside you patted your back and you said shaking your head, “Maybe it’s like something from an old story sparking up in my head.”

Ori, “I used to cry seeing gourds, took me a while before I remembered about this one scene of parted lovers from a tale our Amad told us when we were little. It will surface in time.” He smiled as you glanced his way, grinning to his, “You will see.”

Dwalin said, “Might be able to wrangle up something to help cover that if you like.”

“No, I have an idea.” The men got to fixing dinner while subtly you crept out to dig in the hoard from the Troll trunks. With a handful of copper cups full of white gold coins and a white gold chain the men smirked seeing you sit on the cold dirt by the ponies napping in the safe warm cave that with your hands you dug a hole just a bit larger than the stone lighting the activity.

Hot and hard into your palms you blew licks of flames until you felt the right temperature to lift the first coin you flattened to their awe to fill what they realized was a mold in the dirt. Steadily the hole was filled until the back was forged. Next the first cup was heated and using the dagger in your boot thin strips like wire were set aside then woven into a pair of trees. The trunk spiraled splitting into smaller groups of spiraled branches reaching to the edges matching the shorter roots. Then against the back you used your water skin to clean and polish smooth with more flames from between your lips and hard pressed of your sore but finally blister free fingers. Each motion skilled after years of trinket forging on your room while the other children played outside.

Actions luring the Dwarves into a trance the tree now heated was pressed into the white gold and set aside to cool. The other side of the stone would be covered with copper with the coins flattened and cut to weave another tree pressed into the front. That through the tiny holes they had noticed you wet your lips and with the tweezer kit Nori had passed you strips of both copper and white gold was woven into hinges and a hidden securing lock on the other side along with a harnessing loop to hook into the chain. In securing the stone inside your new locket you couldn’t help but giggle to the claps from the Dwarves who each took a turn inspecting the craftsmanship of the impressive bit of jewelry.

Balin, “You will make a fine jeweler, Miss Pear.”

“Perhaps for fun, I doubt I could make a living from lockets.”

The Dwarves scoffed and took to sharing the history of their kin surrounding jewels including shared bits of jewelry tucked on their persons that each had accomplished forging themselves for certain markers in their growth with the youngest trio showing woven bracelets yet to be old enough to be trusted alone to the forges just yet. Around your neck the chain settled and the locket rested surprisingly light to your chest as Thorin said, “Well maneuvered on the hinge as well, not a sliver of light to be found.”

“Well wouldn’t be a good way to pay you back if I got us killed out here by giving us away.”

His sentimental grin widened and he hummed, “I look forward to uncovering more of your hidden talents in Erebor.”

Pt 2

[snkpolls]

SnK 131 Chapter Poll Results

The chapter poll closed with  2,192 responses. This month’s poll results were brought to you by @momtaku​, /u/staraves, Crunchwrap, u/_Puppet_, Luna.  Thanks as always for your support.

  RATE THE CHAPTER 2,118 responses

This was a standout chapter for the fandom, garnering a positive rating from over 90% of respondents and an average score of 4.68 which makes it the highest rated chapter since 122 - and in the top 5 in the history of the poll! Many of you were eager to express your enjoyment of it, with this question getting the most responses it has since chapter 102 (over two years ago!). As we go deeper into the endgame, it’s good to know enthusiasm is going strong.

Yams is a damn genius. This is one chapter I have not been able to stop thinking about or rereading. It's just... its so fucked up and SO. WELL. DONE.

I really, really loved this chapter. My favourite so far probably.

This is the first time I cried after a chapter. It hit me so hard.

Almost made me quit the manga. We finally got a confession from Armin, but right in the middle of all that grief, I couldn't enjoy it. Poor Ramzi and Halill, and all other innocent people beyond and within the Walls.

This chapter has had a ripple effect on how I’m seeing the series now in retrospect. I’ve been re-reading the manga , & I’ve become very melancholic after the Rumbling , knowing  everything was leading to this.

This was a phenomenal chapter. Thank you Isayama for everything.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT?

2,137 responses

Finding a favorite moment in a tragic chapter isn’t easy but we managed. “Child Eren’s moment of happiness” tops the list with an impressive 30% of respondents. “Seeing the reality of the rumbling” (18.8%), “Eren’s tearful apology to Ramzi” (15.9%) and “Getting Eren’s thoughts on the Rumbling while in Marley” (13.8%) round out the top four.

Very cool to finally see the destruction caused by the rumbling and some more insight into Eren's character

I like that this chapter showed perspectives from both the initiator of the rumbling (Eren) and the victims of his choice. It makes you sympathize with Eren, but at the same time, terrifies you with the price humanity has to pay.

Definitely one of the most depressing, if not the most depressing chapter thus far. Isayama brilliantly handled the transition between Eren's despair and the result of Eren's despair (Rumbling). Beautiful artwork. Great cliffhanger. Definitely a 9/10.

Tragic, Terrifying, Heartbreaking also Awesome because atleast AruAni became somewhat cannon

beautiful art as usual

The freedom scene with kid eren is the most beautiful/horrifying scene of the manga.

I also loved the Annie and Armin talk, anyone who says it's shipping cringe is a child, this was a long time coming and it was executed beautifully. (I also love how Hitch was mentioned twice, she would be proud of Armin this chapter.)

Ramzi and Halil deaths were the saddest part of this chapter, and I don't know about Ymir, but I guess she's helping Eren.

The panel showing the wall titans faces, especially the one shown on the right with empty eye sockets, gave me the chills. Can't wait to see how things will go down between the gang and Eren.

  WHO WAS THIS CHAPTER’S MVP? 2,144 responses

This month giving us the most harrowing chapter in a while made it feel wrong to be looking for an MVP amidst all this despair, and almost half of you agree (47.5%). Just over a quarter of you believe the Eren focus earned him the spot (28.9%), with 9.4% choosing Armin and 9.1% selecting best bros Ramzi and Halil. A distant minority of you chose Annie and Birb, the former of which coming dead last. Poor Annie, you’ll be more popular than a bird one day.

the true mvp was the depression we got along the way

Eren needs a hug

Eren needs to be put down.

I really admire the way Isayama deeply makes you care for a character in a few panels, like he did for those two - relatively unknown - boys.

Annie is the best girl

birbs are the rreak mvp since chap 1

  EIGHT MONTHS AFTER FIRST APPEARING IN THE MEMORY SHARDS, WE GET FEZ-KUN’S STORY.  DID IT LIVE UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS? 2,121 responses

Only a month ago, the fandom had no idea what to make of the mysterious Fez-Kun. The plucky pickpocket had a simple but effective story, and knew more secrets than he could possibly have understood. A perfect half of respondents were pleasantly surprised with Fez kid’s part in the story. 41.2% were content as it was about what they expected. 6.2% wanted to see a more in-depth picture but alas, that chance has been crushed mercilessly along with Ramzi’s hopes and dreams (and… the rest of him). 2.5% just weren’t into anything that let Eren lean into some morally black territory. Don’t worry, there are still plenty of grey shades here. Very dark shades of grey.

I didn't expect Ramzy's story to be expanded on, but it's so brutal to see the man he's been talking to killing him, his brother, his family and his hopes.

I know Ramzi and Halil were plot devices, but damn their death hit hard.

I think Eren saving Ramzi is foreshadowing. He knew Ramzi was gonna die in rumbling, yet he saved him. Same will happen, after someone reaching him and reminding him who he is, Eren will stop this madness and die. Or I wanna be hopeful.

even if i'm satisfied with Ramzi's story, I wish there would have been more to it because it is a tiny bit dissapointing but it's more or less what I expected.

Ramzi and Halil didn’t deserve death

i think everybody who dies in this rumbling will get back alive same will happen to halil and ramzi they will come back alive

Ramzi and Halil's deaths were so horrible but so good to see, because this is what it means when you destroy the world. You don't get to pluck out the nice ones and enjoy killing the bad ones. It's the height of cruel selfishness. And no amount of apologies changes that.

Ramzi and Halil deserved so much better

  WHY WAS EREN DISAPPOINTED THAT HUMANITY EXISTED OUTSIDE THE WALLS? 2,117 responses

There’s been disagreement over exactly what Eren meant when he said he was disappointed that humanity existed outside the walls and our poll reflects that. Just over a third of the fandom (34.2%) take Eren’s words literally and believe that his disappointment was with any existence of humanity since it marred his pristine childhood vision. The second most popular option is that he was disappointed in the attitudes, selecting “he was disappointed to discover all of humanity was filled with violence and oppression” (29.5%). We deliberately left off an “All of the above” option but that didn’t stop more than 50 people from writing it in.

He is disappointed at the fact that he has to fight humans with homes, families, pasts and futures and not mindless titans.

It's also a clear contrast between the outside world Armin envisioned and the one Eren wanted. Armin genuinely wanted to know more about it, Eren wanted his worldwide natural park to walk on. When it was full of civilization, he wanted to get rid of it. Like any typical villain wanting to purify the Earth of all the worms infesting it.

When he discovered that humans are just as cruel within the walls as without, it put his entire journey into perspective. He could not be Eren the hero or Eren the explorer and ultimately meant that the sacrifices made by his comrades were negligible in comparison to the big, cruel world , at least in his own mind.

He thought of all the beautiful landscapes and stuff that Armin showed him. Too bad there's these stupid humans in the way. Makes sense to eliminate the entire human population ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Everyone's fight against titans was pointless and the people who caged them could enjoy the things that Eren will never experience. The world is not a uninhabited landscape open to explore it, the world didn't need them and their freedom wasn't a possibility to enjoy it like the others civilizations do.

The world was out there and yet they did NOTHING to help Eldia

yes, eren is disappointed because there are now more enemies. but more than that, he's disappointed that they're not the monsters he's imagined them to be. that he can't kill them without feeling guilt and remorse.

he would never be able to enjoy the freedom he wanted because the clock is ticking and he will have to keep on resisting the whole world till the end without ever having time to properly realize his dream

I think he's disappointed in the fact that he's feeling sorry for humanity outside the walls just like Reiner used to feel sorry about people inside the walls. When he discovered Reiner was a traitor, he especially hated that part of his behavior, and how he realizes they're not that different, and in any case he's worse because at least Reiner had his child soldier brainwashing as an excuse

His disappointment is as bad as it sounds, having to deal with humans outside the walls was too bothersome for him and when the option to wipe them out was available to him, he was more inclined to take it, instead of fight for another resolution.

Typical privileged White boy outraged by prejudice and hatred OUTSIDE the walls, as if that didn't exist in Paradis already.

Any hopeful expectation Eren had of the outside world were completely decimated. Not only did he discover that humanity hadn't perished, but they actively contributed to or blissfully ignored Paradis' hell. In addition, the outside world is exploiting one other for resources. Paradis’ synthetically concocted hell is just part of a game to the outside world (there’s some uncomfortable real-world allusions here and I think it’s important that it’s being explored). Eren thought he was the saviour of humanity only to discover everything's he's done was for naught, humanity's the problem in his eyes.

  WHAT DO YOU THINK OF EREN’S CONTRADICTORY NATURE? 2,106 responses

Deciding to crush the vast majority of the world and its citizens kind of takes a mental toll on people. Who knew? 48% of respondents think Eren’s emotional breakdown side by side with determination to reach freedom at any cost is simply him deciding the results will be worth his immense guilt. 23.2% think it’s a very human case of cognitive dissonance, and that Eren’s just trying to juggle his conflicting values. 19.2% believe his mental state is fraying at the seams reminiscent of the way Reiner’s did. 6.8% don’t buy that there’s any contradiction being shown here.

He was willing to throw away his humanity to become the monster that brings change

He's being a hypocrite. His guilt doesn't hold any value because it's entirely his choice. He's apologizing because there's no greater good, just his selfish dream.

He's never been okay, it's just that we're finally seeing him for who he is without the "protagonist illusion".

I don't think it's contradictory though. He's grieving sure, but he's also going along with his plan. Because he wants to be free.

He's not mentally stable and it shows

He's to some extent influenced by the Shingeki and/or its previous holders

He's trying to convince himself that humanity is evil sl he won't feel guilty about what he's doing

Hes a fully grown adult who knows better, no matter how bad he feels he doesnt deserve sympathy

The future cannot be changed and Eren is a slave to the attack titan's objective to push foreward

This chapter shows a lot of parallel between Eren and Reiner, he even said himself that he's worse than Reiner in the genocide that he's created. says himself that

What a fucking asshole

When Eren saw the future he knew the rumbling was inevitable so he is the one having to carry to burden of being ‘humanity’s enemy’ whether or not it was Eren to fulfill the rumbling it would’ve happened either way so he isn’t immediately a devil

Erens nature isn’t contradictory. He’s just now becoming self aware of the impact of his violent nature

He feels guilty about his actions and feels sorry for people who are going to be killed, but on the other hand - he is selfish and will do everything to reach his perfect reality.

Humans are an amalgamation of their actions. They sometimes arrive at destinations they did not fully intend. They may also realize too late that the path that they’ve set down is leading them in a direction they are not happy with, but eren is too far gone. He’s sane, understands he is objectively evil, but cannot turn back.

He totally snapped and turned into the psychopath that was sleeping inside of him for a long time. It was indeed very dangerous to entrust him with more power than he can handle.

Isayama did the same thing with Zeke. I think he likes the idea of the cool, mysterious guy, but it falls flat when the motivation doesn’t line up & the characters turn out to be crying & weak to fit the narrative once it’s revealed.

I don't know how to word this, but he is caged in his own vision to the point where any human decency and the ability to think is killed. Only a selfish, hateful and childish shell remained that is throwing a tantrum over his childbook fairytale not being true. It's not the same as Reiner, because Eren chose this. He wanted this, it is his fault. He had the power to stop this, but didn't. He can apologize as much as he wants, but he isn't feeling sorry at all.

He feels guilty, which is why he is having a mental breakdown like Reiner.

He’s having a mental breakdown but it's worse than Reiner's

painfully obvious this chapter was just Eren trying by all means to justify the Rumbling. Not because of some noble intention or cornering them into the inevitable, but just because he wanted to erase the world.

the eren reiner parallels man.. they never stop

  IN HIS FINAL MOMENTS, RAMZI SEES AN APPARITION OF YMIR. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? 2,104 responses

Ymir has finally appeared since we last saw her in chapter 122, and her presence as well as motivations are seemingly shrouded in mystery. Over a third believe she is watching everything but not necessarily feeling good or bad about it (32.1%), and some of you think she may be questioning her decision (16.2%). A minority of you opted to choose that her appearance means she is enjoying seeing it unfold (9.6%), or that we are witnessing a phenomenon related to titan deaths that have occurred all this time (7.5%). The most popular choice, however, (34.6%) is simply expressing bewilderment at the Evangelion-esque shenanigans we’re seeing.

Ymir could be the one doing all the actions of destruction since Eren let her free.

i really think after ymir appeared again even tho eren freed her that she's regretting giving him the founder's power and will have a role is taking him down

the presence of Ymir intrigues me and I hope that in the next chapter we will have her point of view.

I think Ymir is the one who's been pulling the ropes for a long time. Whenever Eren thinks there might be another way (especially throught he disappearance of the Eldian race) he compulsively thinks that he just CAN'T accept that, like there's a force driving him towards seeking freedom.

I hope that Ymir appearance means that she is counting and seeing Eren victims so she can create them Again without Eldian hate

Ymir being outside, and Kid Eren appearing in the paths might have a connection. Ymir was a grownup when she was killed but inside the paths she was shown a kid. Same as Eren being shown in the paths. This might signifies Eren is not in control of the situation but Ymir is.

I have had theories for a while about Ymir possibly turning on Eren, whether this is to save the world to show she is better than Eren, or to bring Paradis to destruction as well to show she is just as bad.

WHAT IN THE EVA?

Loved the Evangelion reference. YAMS YOU MADLAD!

Ymir might be the true enemy

WHAT THE FUCK IS YMIR AYANAMI DOING THERE?  

  WHAT IS KID EREN DOING HERE? 2,099 responses

Child Eren appears in one of the most stunning panels of the chapter, but what does it mean?  Two options came out on top, with the idea that Eren is mentally regressing to a child (37.9%) edging out that it’s symbolism comparing child Eren to current Eren (36.1%).

I think we are going to see different Eren during the rumble, the past with Eren as a child, the future perhaps with a more mature or elderly Eren and the Eren of the present.

Adult Eren is incapacitated and Kid eren took his place through paths, will wake up for the "see you later, Eren"

Adult Eren unknowingly brought kid Eren’s consciousness to the present while he was sleeping under the tree. This is part of his “dream” that he had at the beginning of the story.

It is symbolises Erens mentality as a kid and how his flawed ideology doesn't hold up to the real world he faced outside of the walls. Also to cope.

Eren is the only character who cannot overcome the cycle of violence, so he will die.As you know, only without people can you become absolutely free, so he enjoys it when he realizes that nothing else binds him.

He has taken over paths from ymir, but since he is not bound by anything, he can do whatever the hell he wants, and is the reason he connected to armin while speaking to him.

It shows that Eren is not fully in control of the PATHS. For example in this scene, he remembers Armin because of his memory as a child talking about freedom with Armin then Armin suddenly appears although Eren himself didn't wish for something like that to happen thus it's just to show that PATHS connecting all Subjects of Ymir even in different timeline.

This links in with Floch... Eren loves Floch.

He was dreaming about the past and accidentally used the power of the Founder to show his younger self a vision of the Attack Titan's current point of view.

He's a sociopathic freak

It is symbolic of his old dream that he will have to give up on soon.

Can I say all of the above again? I saw it as a representation of Eren in his most pure, idealistic state which is then contrasted by the realistic horror of the destruction he is causing.

Brought into the present by adult Eren to give his younger self a taste of freedom without all the guilt. This is the beginning of the long dream kid Eren awakes from in Chapter 1.

Child Eren's Evangelion/Devilman(Crybaby)-esque "elation" seems like a metaphorical emotional release (and P A T H S shenanigans).

Something about the kid-Eren “freedom” scene is just so incredible and impactful; fully restored my faith that Isayama will deliver an amazing finale for this masterpiece.

THE MORE I LOOK AT THIS PANEL THE MORE MY HEART HURTS. ITS SO BEAUTIFUL YET SO DAMN FUCKED UP. GOD. FRICK. FRIIIICKKKKKK

  KID EREN FINALLY WITNESSES “THAT SIGHT”, BUT WHAT DID HE ACTUALLY SEE? 2,113 responses

The world-shattering reveal almost a year ago of Eren gaining an important glimpse into the future, characterised as “that sight”, was finally answered in this chapter -- or was it? The majority of you believe kid Eren was merely enjoying the view from above that filled him with freedom, blissfully ignorant to the carnage of the rumbling (50.8%). Close to a quarter (23.8%) think he was able to see the rumbling but was enjoying the freedom in spite of it, with a small portion (5%) believing all the death was a part of his glee. Some aren’t yet sold on the idea that this is “that sight”, perhaps believing we will see it later (20.4%).

I don't think that his inner child is aware of the rumbling. He is only focused on the scenery and wants Armin to see that too.

A world without any walls is what kid eren always wanted to see. Through paths, kid eren achieved this (without seeing the death)

  HOW WILL ARMIN BEING ABLE TO SEE KID EREN THROUGH PATHS AFFECT THE PLOT? 2,114 responses

Child Eren showing up was confusing enough, but he had to see Armin through paths too!?  What does it mean!?  A majority, at 55.5% think it foreshadows Armin’s coming importance in whatever the endgame turns out to be. Almost a third, at 28.6% think that it also opens up the possibility for other characters to connect with Eren through paths.

Armin was the person Eren has been sharing his dreams with. He is mentally showing his friend that the realisation of their dreams is finally at hand.

Eren can call forth anyone he wants, but if he doesn't want to see them I'm not sure if they could get to him

It foreshadows Armin and Eren clashing on a deeper level. I don't think anyone can actually stop Eren at this point.

Eren is so suped up with in this final form and with Ymir's "support" that when he thought about Armin it created a link through the paths.

Armin gets to briefly see the old "idealistic" Eren again. The one he can somewhat see eye-to-eye with and incidentally "created".

I think it might be just a visual metaphor on how Armin and Eren never really understood each other while sharing the same dream and that Armin is realizing that (I mean that the dream of "seeing the outside world" didn't mean the same thing to them). Or it might be that Eren is in a comatose sort of state and that since he technically is in control of paths, his thoughts are "sent" to Armin since he's reflecting on their shared dream

It shows Eren and Armin both want the same end goal. Though they disagree on the means of getting to it

The world is not like the one he saw in Armin's book. Hence why he contacted him, this is his way of reaching for his vision of freedom that he was denied because of the trauma of the wall.

Reference to the ocean scene where Eren was depressed and Armin excited, now its reversed

  WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ARMIN AND ANNIE’S TALK ON THE SHIP? 2,124 responses

While this tiny moment of apparent romance was a delight for the 20% of the fandom who expressed “Whoo hoo Aruani is canon!!”, the remaining 80% were slightly more subdued in their reaction. The largest percentage (35.3%) was happy that the build up between their characters had some payoff. The second most popular selection had nothing to do with Armin or Annie at all with “I just wanna know what’s up with the birds” garnering 26% of the vote. Lastly, 11.2% felt like this moment was completely out of place, selecting “Now’s not the time for love drama Isayama.”

We better see Armin and Annie kiss next chapter

The Armin/Annie was not that necessary, I’d loved way more a more "group" discussion with Mikasa, Jean n Reiner in it. Old 104th days style

Besides the shipping moment, Annie just came to terms with that she’s still not alone, which is huge for her character

I'm not sure if Isayama knows how unnatural aruani is. These two had a grand total of 3 interactions, and sparing each other still isn't prone to romantic feelings blooming on either side.

a bad fking attempt by isayama at romance, should have stuck with eren historia love child

The aruani was unexpected but nice xD I don't exactly ship them but they are cute in this chapter(I can't help but feel one of them is getting a death flag because of this though💀)

What about them talking about all the shit she did or has been through? I wanted to see that.

SHE'S NOT TAKING MY MAN ISTG SHE'S NOT ON MY WATCH

Ship and let ship, this is actually a very intresting pairing and I think the scene flowed very naturally. But I still hope that in the future manga focuses more in the plot and not in the ships. I'd hope the same from fandom, but of course that's too much to ask...

This was a nice moment away from death and destruction

They’re definitely gonna die soon

am i the only one who don’t ship annie and armin? like bro... she squashed your little friends like bugs

Yoo bitch AruAni is canon LETSS FUCKING GOOO Love this cinnamon couple..More canon couple please Yams!

CANT BELIEVE ARMIN IS TRYING TO GET A GF WHEN MILLIONS R DYING HES FR A HOE🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

I only saw Bertolt there.

Maybe it's just me but i dont see anything romantic about the scene to me i prefer the weird friendship they have

While it seemed slightly out of place I’m glad Isayama touched on their “therapy sessions”.

Oh God no please don’t do this, Annie isn’t they type of character that needs any sort of romance in her story to be happy

Both aruani is canon 🥳 and wtf Isayama not the time…

c'mon falling for an enemy uncounscious girl with whom you have wangsty once-sided talks, a girl you manipulated to capture and used as a bait against enemies, really ???

They’re finally talking, I’ve been waiting so long for them to talk things out, also I really like Annie’s character development! And finally CANON, I’ve been waiting for sooooo long!!!!!!

I selected the bird because I feel threatened by it but also WOO HOO ARUANI IS CANON

I really enjoyed the scene between Annie and Armin. I think it further cements AOT as a very human narrative. They both know there are bigger things going on, but that doesn't allow them to turn off their very human emotions, which come out in a moment of rest. I don't believe this will necessarily lead to more romantic scenes between them, unless the ending of the story is far more hopeful than I expect it to be.

  WHY DO YOU THINK EREN APPEARS TO BE IN A SLEEP-LIKE STATE? 2,088 responses

Not long after his grand arrival on the shore, Eren seems to be having a little nap. 45.3% of respondents think he’s relying on his base instincts for his walk around the world. 15.8% think he’s wide awake but just trying to ignore the squishy things he’s stepping on. Turns out it’s actually pretty tiring to declare war on the world, or so say 14.2% of you. 12.1% think it’s no coincidence his apparently sleepy face was shown right after the intense stare of birb, and 8.8% think that the image hints at a secret puppet master pulling Eren’s strings. We received a lot of comments suggesting Ymir might be the big bad after all - now how is Eren gonna earn that sweet sweet freedom if he’s not willing to bust a few billion skulls, eh?

He left the Attack Titan on auto-mode

i just wish to know that....now that Eren has a long ass neck.....will he come back as a human or....he will be like this forever

Symbolic of the fact that he isn’t really seeing the sight. It’s a fools errand like Eren’s goal.

I think it is symbolic. The 'adult' in him is sleeping while the 'child' in him is taking the reigns.

His consciousness has been transferred to his titan's brain. He's essentially an Attack Titan battery .

He is dreaming, ignorant to the destruction below and seeing the freedom he envisioned as a kid.

his consciousness is in PATHS dimension and he's controlling things from there

How the fuck is he sleeping when the wall titans are executing complex commands, like diving under ships and surrounding the city?

I don't think he is sleeping. He rather looks beaten and devastated and just numb to what he is doing in order to cope.

I figure that bc he's so big, he kind of has to be like this. Normally when he's in his titan with his eyes open, he's being active. I think that although he's set the titans in motion, he's in a more passive role now. He also can't be all that active when he's that huge, right?

I honestly don't know. I can speculate its connection to Ymir's apparition and child Eren's lucid dream?

He's irrevocably fucked thanks to good old Gabi and her rifle.

He's losing his will to live.  Also leaves an opening for Armin to wake him up like he did in Trost.

HE'S THE SLAVE NOW

Maybe he is actively controlling / managing something else at the time? Maybe something crucial we don't know about yet, I don't believe that he is just exhausted.

His adult self is asleep now because his child self is having fun in his perfect world. Eren is mentally weak as adult but his inner child is strong and is reaching everything Eren always wanted - freedom and happiness.

He’s unable to regenerate due to controlling all the colossal titans, or just won’t because he wasn’t in Titan form when his head was blown off, meaning he will eventually die

i feel as if having eren not be in control would be mildly disappointing because the manga has done so much to set up erens decent into madness and how his actions became so extreme, i would be disappointed if all of that went to waste.

I would guess that Eren might be sifting through future memories at the moment. Looking at the "unknown world"/"the scenery" that made him smile wistfully instead of being horrified/the thing "beyond hell" Eren mentioned to Falco.  

His adult self is sleeping now, while his young self is having fun.

I think hes not fully in control (maybe ymir calling the shots)

I'm kinda torn between him operating on base instincts and him being controlled by someone (Ymir?) so I'm gonna go with both as the possibility.

Maybe he really doesn't want this? I think Ymir's the one in control

Ymir is controlling him

He is not the one driving this titan, Ymir is.

Really? You talk about his eyes being closed and not the fact that he has the neck structure of a turkey!?

  THE FINAL PAGE ENDS ON ARMIN’S HOPEFUL WISH FOR THE EXISTENCE OF THE OUTSIDE WORLD HE ENVISIONED AS A CHILD, BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK? 2,101 responses

Despite the darkness this chapter brought to the story, Armin ends on a hopeful note. The top two options were 36.8% thinking there’s a possibility Armin will in fact be able to stop Eren. and 33.7% believe Armin to be too optimistic, and that it won’t pan out the way he wishes.

Armin's recalling of his childhood dream with Eren in the last page made me think there's still a hidden solution to resolve the dilemma.  

This chapter also shown Armin not wanting to give up with reconciling the Eren he wanted to see and the actual Eren. He hears no evil.

Tragic ending, yes, but I don't think Armin's hope is misplaced all the same. I think Eren cannot be stopped without death, but I also don't think the entire world will be destroyed, and I don't think it will end hopelessly.

Either Armin’s gonna save humanity or everybody just dies the end 😹

That one bird that was perched on the ship might be the symbol of peace. But I'm not sure how that peace is going to be achieved if the option's still on the table.

I hope the alliance is able to save Eren from doing this unthinkable sin.

Probably a blossoming hope through Armin breaking Eren from Ymir's plan uwu

I think Armin could join/support Eren

  THIS CHAPTER CONTINUED THE BIRD MOTIF, THIS TIME HAVING A FOCUS ON SCENES ENDING WITH A BIRD STARING DIRECTLY AT A CHARACTER. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?! 2,067 responses

The Spy Birds theory seemed a bit nutty last month, but I don’t trust that seagull one bit. And it looks like many of you agree because that nutty theory has gone mainstream! The majority of respondents (54.1%) think that the birds are under the influence of a higher power, mainly that of Eren (27.4%) or Ymir (26.7%). 26.6% don’t think the birds are suspicious, they’re just free, man. 13% just reckon Isayama has moved on from his love of drawing thicc horses, and birds are the cool new animal. No complaints here. But I still don’t trust that seagull.

The birds are up to something

Animals sense danger coming from nature before humans do.

bird is symbol for freedom, but some bird like crow and raven in some culture are symbol for death.

I think that pigeons are watching me through P A T H S

Black birds symbolize the people's doom , white bird that flew to armin symbolises hope

black birds: death ; seagul: garbage :))) I dunno, the seagul was so random. It means they are approaching the shore?

EREN IS BRAN STARK IN AOT UNIVERSE LET'S GOO

I dont sure its eren or ymir. But i hope there is something about bird. I hope there are a huge plot twist

Might be another Odin parallel if Eren is using them, but I don't really see why he'd bother. I don't think he needs to do recon.

FREEEEEEEDOOOOOM

Last time I thought that the bird theory was a little far-fetched but now I think that's 100% the deal. That seagul is just somehow way too focused on to be just a random animal.

I commented in the previous poll that the birds are surveillance cameras and i’m even more convinced now. And isn’t it poetic that the Wings of Freedom logo is made up of a pair of black and white wings, representing the different interpretations of freedom pursued by Eren and Armin.

This is all just a Genjutsu by Itachi

my personal favorite theory, it’s zeke seeing everything transpire through the power of the beast titan

Pure!Boy Armin gets the seagull because he still has DREAMS and Eren gets crows because he wants to feast on human flesh.

WHAT'S UPP WITH THE BIRDS AAAAAAHHH TELL ME

I don't know but is really cool if you see it as a symbol of hope/freedom. Birds are the only kind who will not going to be tumble over the rumbling.

I think it's about the colors, black is dark, just like the destruction Eren is causing to the world (including Ramzi and Halil) and white is bright, just like the peace that Armin wished for and is aiming to achieve with the alliance

  HOW DID THIS CHAPTER AFFECT YOUR VIEWS ON THE RUMBLING? 2,100 responses

If we thought seeing the reality of the rumbling would be a game changer when it comes to our view of it, we were wrong. Only 5% of people who formerly supported it no longer do. For the rest of us 44% do not support the rumbling and 30% do. Most curiously, 21% claim to have no opinion. More on that below when we mirrored this question about our views on Eren.

I still don't support The Rumbling, I just want it to stop. It doesn't do anything good for anyone, even Eren himself, and this awfully awesome chapter proves it. I totally expect that via P A T H S.FM Armin and Mikasa could stop him (and save him, physical or psychologically, idk) . It's the only plausible way.

I think the rumbling is justified but I don’t think the civilians who had nothing against Erin don’t deserve to die.

I don’t think there is any other solution, and that’s the point… His outburst at Hange tells me that he was desperate for something. This is coming from Eren who can essentially see everything and inherited multiple people’s memories. If he couldn’t come up with it, I don’t think anyone else can (aside from Armin? But I’m not holding my breath). The 50-year plan was a delusional fantasy at best, technology would evolve rapidly and nullify any threat the Rumbling poses.

I was still kind of hoping Eren had something up his sleeve that wasn't mass slaughter, but I guess we're going there

I believe the full rumbling is a morally grey decision, but I’ll concede and say it’s on the darker end of the spectrum. ultimately eren will have to answer for what he’s done, necessary or not killing millions of innocent people is a horrible thing to do.

The world was never peaceful, and never will be. The Rumbling was inevitable, nothing could stop that.

  ON A SCALE FROM “IT’S JUST A FLESH WOUND” TO “HOLY SHIT THIS IS AWFUL”, HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT THE PORTRAYAL OF THE RUMBLING?   2,110 responses

This probably didn’t need to be asked but we did it anyway. For the vast majority of us, the portrayal of the rumbling was overwhelming in terms of sheer horror. “It’s awful! I love it!” seems to be a common reaction.

Whelp... we wanted to see the rumbling. I guess be careful what we wish for.

I am once again reminded how gory SnK can be.

No holds barred. This is the sad, traumatic truth that we asked for.

RIP in pieces Clown-kun

At this point, it makes me sick to read pro-rumbling posts. Normally, when you like a villain or a morally grey character (Eren went past this point long ago) you enjoy seeing how their mentality works. And this is fully respectable, but not the "uuuh my baby did nothing wrong". If we did the same with our kings Floch and Zeke, it would be crazy, wouldn't it?

I’m glad the Rumbiling was shown in its full glory. It didn’t hide anything about the situation and was very gory. I’m glad we were shown what happened to the people during it, and not just after.

I can't feel engaged in the rumbling when it has been the default scenario since the sea, but more specifically 123. The boy had a death flag the size of Marley and now he's dead. Thanks for the shock, Yams. I'm interested in the potential of everything else. I hope I didn't follow this story for the final conflict to be whether to save more people or less people

It was great to see the Rumbling in its full gore. Isayama showed it masterfully and rly put emphasis on how terrifying and disturbing it is. I was never anti or pro of it before, bc I'm just enjoying the view as the reader, that didn't change, and I still like Eren bc he is a very entertaining character.

I loved seeing how awful everything was. Ofc in real life I wouldn't support it, but narratively? Wow!

  WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING BEST DESCRIBE YOUR FEELINGS ABOUT THE RUMBLING? (MULTISELECT) 2,109 responses

This chapter didn’t hold back in its brutal display of the rumbling, and it may be difficult to find the words to describe it, so we gave you twelve. A clear majority are able to agree on it being both tragic and terrifying, closely followed by those who would describe it as unavoidable, distressing or immoral. The choices in the minority included describing the rumbling as awesome, justified or heroic. Fun fact, over a third of the people who chose “heroic” also described it as some combination of “excessive”, “immoral” and “indefensible”. Talk about mixed feelings.

  HOW DID THIS CHAPTER AFFECT YOUR VIEWS ON EREN? 2,093 responses

If we thought seeing the horrors of the rumbling would be a game changer when it comes to our view of the person who unleashed it, we were wrong. This chapter did nothing to change the minds of the 40% who support Eren and the 30% who do not. Only a minority (8.3%) said this chapter made their support for Eren wane.

We were most curious about the 20% who selected “I have no opinion.” When we’ve waited so eagerly for Eren’s POV, how could a quarter of the fandom be neutral on how it affected them? Was this a failure on Isayama’s part or were our poll options poorly worded? We decided that rather than having no opinion,  “I don’t know what to think yet” might have been the better cop out...err I mean *neutral* option :P

I was one of those that was convinced that there had to be something more to the Rumbling, and this chapter shocked me to my core by revealing that there really isn't. Eren is just that disturbed. We wanted Eren POV but we weren't ready for it. Now I just want to see how Armin and Mikasa end this.

i love eren so much nothing can make me hate him but he is insane... all this and for what. THEY COULDNT HAVE TALKED IT OUT??? i feel so bad for eren he clearly does not want to kill all those people man...

We finally have Eren's pov now; I still don't know how to feel about it, but I'll always support him.

Eren is a character who really disgusts me because of his fucked up delusion of fReEdoM but I love him at the same time because he's really well written, this boy is a fascinating mess.

This chapter seems to have made things pretty straightforward. Eren is a lot of things but he’s not one to go back on his word. He said he was gonna rumble and now he’s doing it.  Not sure why people are having a hard issue saying he wouldn’t have done it. Uhhhh hello he’s nuts

i get eren's side but i just wish that there was another way to bring freedom and justice without genocide

I support eren as a character, however if his actions were translated to real life I would disagree with them. At the end of the day, genocide is not ok. He could’ve wiped out military bases, but civilian deaths is not ok. HOWEVER, for the sake of fiction, & the fact that there’s no decent alternative, it’s team Yeager.

Deep down his choice is selfish and this is why he is ashamed of it, the rest are just justifications. And he is not the only character who has selfish objectives hidden over good intentions, Erwin fought for humanity, but deep down he wanted to prove his father right, and Reiner on his quest to "Save Humanity" was just a mask to become a hero.

Really I want to see Eren fufill his dream, I’m still supporting him.

Ymir might have a role to play in his mental state.

Not to support the rumbling or anything, but I do feel sorry for Eren. He's like a cornered animal that attacked in panic and that attack's freaking deadly.

Even though the rumbling is tragic, this is Eren truly getting his way, no matter what. It's a rare thing to see in any literary work, and although I'm curious as to what the downfall/tragedy of his character will end up being after this, I love it all because for what feels like the first time, a character with bad intent is using the god power to accomplish their goal, and I can't get enough of it.

  WHAT BEST DESCRIBES YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT EREN THIS CHAPTER 2,111 responses

Empathy for Eren is the theme for nearly 70% of the fandom with “I feel for him. He’s in a tough position” (43.7%) and “my heart aches for him” (22.1%) being the top two selections. On the opposite and more extreme ends of the spectrum, those who think he’s the greatest (15.1%) and those who think he’s the worst (14.9%) are nearly evenly matched. Interestingly only 4.2% expressed “I have no opinion” on this question compared to more than 20% on the question above.

Eren is my favorite character but I also don't support his actions.

I was disstressed for a few days after it.  How did it go to this? I kept reading this far just because I wanted Eren to be happy and have his happy ending, and what do we have now?..

I feel bad for eren, he's in a position no one would want to be, and he hates what hes doing no matter how much he needs to

This chapter could possibly stablish once and for all Eren as a unchangable character since he has reached a point of no return.

Eren is GOAT, the rumbling is wrong but I still love eren

This entire chapter just reaffirms the fact that Eren has always been a self absorbed, self-pitying child from the very beginning

I don't get how people can still support Eren just because he cried a little.

To think that all the shit that has happened since RTS (Sasha killed, Liberio attacked, Tybur murdered, Zackley assassinated, Nile and Pixis titanised, Levi forced to decimate his own titanised squad and then nearly dying, Jaegerist coup, Shadis beat up, Historia pregnant AND ANYTHING ELSE I'VE FORGOTTEN) is all because of some long, convoluted plan for one single boy's childish, problematically simplistic, black-and-white dream for "Freedom" is. I can't. I'm tired. Eren's pov is so outrageously outlandish that I can't relate. At all.

I cant feel bad for Eren, he is the only person responsible on his guilt and sadness. Also genocide is the worst option and even Eren says it.

He was sheltered his whole life; he has no proper context or framework for concepts like racism and war between humans. He “optimistically” thought his fight was that of human vs titan. That's why I don't blame him for coming to the Rumbling conclusion after the basement reveal. I give him a lot of credit for empathizing with "the other side" and I do believe Eren tried his best to come up with alternative solutions.

I feel for Eren, he was sold the idea of a perfect, peaceful, untouched world, ripe for discovery, filled with the beauty and awe of nature, but in reality it was full of cruel xenophobia people who hated his very existance. I don't support the rumbling but i understand why Eren did it.

Eren is obsessed with his perfect vision of "Freedom" where there are no limits to his will, but sadly for him, he lives on a reality where others exist and as long he has to interact with them, there are going to be limitations he is going to be bound. So even if he kills everyone outside the island, there is going to be another "wall" he needs to overcome.  

Seeing Eren cry and hear his doubts actually made me just more angry with him: "If you are so sad about the fate of the outside world then fucking change the future, don't just give up!!!!!!!" He seems to be very clung in the idea that the future is set and there is nothing he can do to change it.

Okay but look at Eren's centipedal Hell's creation's TINY BUTT. It's so funny seeing that little boney ass on this gigantic thing

  EREN SEEMS TO HAVE MANY MOTIVATIONS. HOW WOULD YOU RANK THEM?

This one was interesting. With this chapter’s iconic imagery of kid Eren spreading his arms declaring “this is freedom”, it’s unsurprising that most of us agree with that as a very important motivation for him. His friends were also chosen as a very important motivation, though not as much as his love for freedom. Historia and her child just edged out the motivation of the people of Paradis, though interestingly it has less “somewhat important” votes and more “not important at all votes”, making it clearly divisive even if it has more “very important” votes.. But the motivation with an even more divisive perception is revenge, with nearly an even split between those who view it as very, somewhat and not important at all.  

Everything Eren is doing is for the sake of his friends and Historia, there was no other choice to protect the island.

I think that the only thing what matters to Eren is freedom and reaching the perfect world he saw in his dreams after reading Armin's book. The dream of his inner child is playing the most important role in his life. Eren is ready to sacrifice his friends, his mentors and people on Paradis - just to see the special scenery and finally feel FREE.

Feel sad to see eren need to do all of this, but i know its for his friend and paradis

I hope that Eren doesn’t harm the alliance

  REGARDLESS OF WHETHER YOU FEEL POSITIVELY OR NEGATIVELY ABOUT EREN, DO YOU THINK HE IS BEING PORTRAYED AS A VILLAIN AT THIS POINT IN THE STORY? 2,098 responses

It’s truly a testament to Isayama’s strength as a writer when a character’s deliberate annihilation of billions is met with a majority response of “there are no villains or heroes here.” 57.1% think that as tragic as the situation now may be, nobody in this manga really qualifies as villainous. Or at least, not when our feisty protagonist is involved. 33.7% think the manga is a tale of a hopeful boy slowly turning to the dark side. 5.6% see this all as part of a hero’s tumultuous journey. Finally, 3.5% think it’s unfair to cast Eren as a villain since he’s not the one in control. Gotta say, if Eren is not the one destroying the world he really shouldn’t have said he was going to destroy the world.

This chapter just proves that Eren ISN'T a complete villain. I disagree with the rumbling, but what Eren's going through is something that I empathize with.This chapter just made it easier for me to keep rooting for everyone, even though a completely happy ending is not an option anymore.

I really hope Eren's in for a change of heart soon. I hate the idea of him being the final villain. He's definitely redeemable. Even he is eligible to have a dark foil and rival. Maybe we'll get that later on in Zeke who I feel is also redeemable.

More and more of the story is unveiled, I really like how this is going. Ever since knowing the outside world I have decided that Eren is no longer a hero but then he is not a villain either so does everyone in the story. I like Eren a lot but I'd say that I just like to observe, to see, never to support or to oppose. So this chapter is really amazing to me as I managed to see more about Eren.

eren is a villian whether you like it or not

I feel Walter white Vibe from Eren.

Eren is evil period!!!! There is no justification for mass murder. If he wants to savr his ppl then just wipe out the army, navy, air force, warriors and the leaders period not everyone including INNOCENT ppl....

EREN IS GOAT. He is portrayed as a hero who makes tough choices that no other shitty shonen character even can do.

Eren needs to stop the rumbling. It maybe justified his needs but the people outside the walls didn't deserved it. They're both each other's enemies. He used to say people outside the walls are monsters but he became one himself. He desired freedom but in the end he was a slave to his own desire.

Isayama could chose to make him some what of a villainous character, or he could chose to set it up as if eren is more of an anti hero doing then wrong things for the right reasons

  DESCRIBE THE CHAPTER IN ONE WORD 1,543 responses

No superlatives to describe how great or awesome this chapter was this month. The Rumbling hurt us all (well done, Yams, mission accomplished). That being said, it looks like we’re all masochists, considering this chapter is in the top 5 highest rated chapters since chapter 91.

Tragic [169; 4.69]

Sad [89; 4.73]

Pain [77; 4.86]

Depressing [69; 4.75]

Heartbreaking [48; 4.77]

  WHAT ARE YOU MOST HOPING TO SEE NEXT CHAPTER? 2,089 responses

With what we want next chapter we find it especially surprising that the majority are ready to give Eren’s perspective a break. Since google sometimes fails us in displaying the data, we’ll just list it all out. Of the options we provided, our wishes for next chapter from most to least popular are: Let’s keep it with the Eren POV (23.4%), The alliance reaching Odiha (22.4%), WHERE TF IS LEVI??? (10.6%), I could go for a few more mental breakdowns (10.1%), More Ymir being mysterious (7.9%), WHERE TF IS LEVI??? (10.6%), SAVE US ZEKE (8.9%), Oh god go back to Historia please (8.5%), Finality for Floch (6%) and More birbs ovo (2.2%)

Yo where tf is Rico

I want to see levi

fuck yeah more mental break down, I'm ready to be depressed

I really want to see more of Armin and kid Eren in Paths next chapter. That one panel was super interesting and I would love to go back to it.

hurt me more isayama

Please yams I want to see Flochad kill Hange, that’s all I ask for.

Zeke returns next chapter pleaseeeee

HOPE WE GET TO SEE HOW THE ISLAND IS DOING NEXT CHAPTER

It's getting to the final and I don't like that

as only 3-4 chapters are left, I dont think we are going to get another eren POV, I am still dying to see the conditions of the other main characters, whereas zeke and floch are unfinished mysteries.

someone from alliance is dying soon

I've gotta see more Historia. What is she doing and thinking right now? What is her role moving forward?

Just shut up with historia in this survey. She's irrelevant. Now I hate answering your polls.Never again!

i literally don't know what to expect next chapter like yams is just THAT good

  WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 2,025 responses

The platforms where we discuss the series remain relatively unchanged with Reddit providing the plurality of responses. Thank you Reddit! We appreciate it. That said, we’d love to see this chart balance out a little more so please feel free to share the poll wherever you discuss the series. That includes the 5 of you degenerates on Snapchat.

  ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE CHAPTER? 553 responses

Uhhh *disappears*

ZEKE-KUN PLEASE BE A GOOD ONII-CHAN AND SAVE THE WORLD FROM YOUR TROUBLED LITTLE OTOTO

listen, birds are pretty cool ok

Beautifully tragic, exactly what I wanted to see from Eren after being shown in a villainous light for 30+ chapters. Being introduced to a new character, in particular an innocent child and then finally revealing his name and story was a perfect way to show the true horrors of an indiscriminate near-omnicide, it definitely brought tears to my eyes.

(😢) SIE SIND DAS ESSEN UND WIR SIND DIE JAEGER (😢)

As expected of Isayama-sensei, it's exactly right.

Annie being revealed as aromantic is the unexpected happy development in this tragedy.

Kiddos, the "it's just fiction" argument refers to the fact that you are allowed to *enjoy* watching fucked up things in fiction because people, in general, can distinguish between fiction and reality. It does not mean writing essays to *justify* said fucked-up things that happen in fiction, because you almost certainly start bringing your own real-life logic to fictional events. Aka, mixing up reality and fiction. Showing your true colors. Allowing your beliefs to slip into discussion. Whatever you call that.

THE BIRDS HAVE PATHS, I CALLED IT LAST CHAPTER!

Annie has always had a hard time expressing her feelings and that she has had complexes for a long time. I'm glad Armin was able to tell her what he was thinking because it will give Annie more confidence. Plus, Annie has always been introverted and I love that Isayama tells us more about her character.

The ravens are a reference to Odin’s, a mythology character. He has two ravens, they symbolise memory and mind/thought.

What a manga.

what eren did is right you can come up with any other solution

What in the everliving fuck is going on? Can we go back to factory reset and knock some sense into Eren before he starts having wild ideas like this one? Please

BEST SHIP FINALLY HAPPENING PROPERLY AHHHHH MY BOY ARMIN IS FINALLY TALKING ABOUT HIS FEELINGS EVEN IF IT'S SUBTLE

If Eren is the bird he really is Armins WINGman.

I KNEW ARMIN LIKED ANNIE! But seeing Annie blush was a nice surprise. I thought she was the ice queen in terms of romance.

This poll is bias toward historia. I wish if y’all stop the shipping b.s

birds are supposed to symbolize freedom in most cultures, innit?

This chapter was so important to me. It showed the reality of the rumbling, and that scenery, and most importantly, Eren's true feelings on the genocide, including his now split younger self. He feels guilty about it, he knows it's bad yet he has to do it because he has no other option if he wants Paradis and everyone he loves to survive. During my life I have had a lot of instances where I had to sacrifice a lot  in order to survive, including disociating and splitting my personality in two, crushing my own feelings to do what had to be done, so characters like Eren are very relatable in that sense to me. In a kill-or-be-killed situation, there is no place nor time for doubts nor mercy and you have to do what you have to do.

Very interesting, trágico and raw, but also  liked the comparison between different concepts of the world and freedom between Armin and Eren. Also loved all the AruAni moments, they were not only adorable but also helped those two characters talk about things they needed to open up about since a long time ago lol.

I want to get off Mr. Isayama's Wild Ride

Am I the only one who can't take the alliance seriously?

Wasn't really feeling the AruAni moment, but other than that top tier chapter can't wait for more.

Armin possibly realizes Eren isn't in the right state of mind. If Eren is projecting himself as a child, then Armin might be able to come up with a plan to stop what he is doing.

Fantastic, worth the wait.

Fav chapter yet. Fall of Wall Maria got overthrown as the most depressing event in the series for me.

Favourite line in AOT :"SIT DOWN"

I don't want it to end, but I am very happy about the direction the manga is going.

I felt for eren

This chapter was legendary, it hit all the right notes for finally giving Eren's POV. The shot of child Eren above the clouds will go down as one of the best panels ever... also Eren's line about "disappointment"... fantastic it gave me chills.

I find ‘the cycle of revenge’ storyline tiring. I’ve seen it so many times before and there isn’t anything new being covered here. I just feel tired and sad honestly. My last (and probably unfulfilled) hope for the series would be for Levi to make it through this, work things out with Zeke without violence and be able to move on in his life. He could help the survivors of the rumbling and reestablish civilization, maybe open his tea shop, see the world, maybe fall in love. I don’t really care. I just want to see my boy alive and doing okay for himself. A ridiculous thought for this series, I know. With 3-4 chapters left I feel we will most likely just be left in a misery marinara. I’m soaking in it right now.

I have too many thoughts on this chapter, I wouldn't know where to begin

i wanted him to save ramzi, but i didnt at the same time?? i was glad he didnt spare him, but im sad he didnt?? i dont know why

I just want everything to end already

i just want the best ending for all characters, esp Eren.

I like how Isayama is pushing the cognitive dissonance that i have of what side i should choose.....he is really fuckin with me at this point. All the thinking has now made me kinda numb

I like Isayama drawing birds and see the art improvement through the chapters :D I announce August is the Eek Appreciation Month dedicated to the Wings of Freedom! EEEEEEEEEEEK

I like that it pretty much ended the discussion of Eren having other plans. He's been totally honest the entire time. If he had other plans, why'd he put his friend in danger by having them fight against him?

for real had to pause for a bit at many points in this chapter lmao

Maybe this is why he never talked to his friends- he didn't care about discussing what's right for them, he just wanted his FrEeDoM and would walk over children to get it.

Glad to see Armin and Annie being cute, they deserve a few moments of happiness.

Glad to see Eren’s thoughts and feelings about the rumbling. There are a lot of loose ends that I was hoping to have some answers for in this chapter but it didn’t happen in this chapter, which just made me more intrigued.

Glad to see that Eren's uncaring exterior was finally dispelled this chapter

God I can't see this ending good and I just really want this to be over soon. Never rooted as much for an MC to die as now.

Which of the following best describe how you feel about the rumbling?  Pointless, it won't achieve anything.

while i find aruani cute i still find it weird since she literally was crying the previous chapter. i was disappointed that we didn't get to see all the alliance

Why tf is Ymir in the realworld!?

WHENS MAHVEL

SS ARUANI GONNA RUMBLE THE SHIP HARDER THEN EREN RUMBLED THOSE POOR CHILDREN, TAKE THAT NONBELIEVERS no really, this was built up from s1, and they have wonderfully complementing personalities. Sad that half the fandom gets triggered from any het ship (and vice versa)

Crack theory: Eren has two personalities which is why he acts in contradictory ways. The "evil" nature is in kid Eren and the "good" nature is in the bird. There is no consciousness in his actual body anymore.

Genocide route best route

Way better than the last chapter. 130 was just good art and shipping bait which felt like it was forced for the sake of the end of a volume. This chapter was amazing and balanced its multiple purposes effortlessly, as opposed to the clunky nature of the previous chapters. Probably the best chapter since Ymir's backstory. I love how Armin tied into it, we haven't seen he and Eren's shared dream brought up for a while, as it had faded into background despite being such a driving force for both characters before the timeskip.

I was sure that the dichotomy between Eren's motivations was clearly between his friends/the people he wants freedom for, and his own quest to soothe the anger he has in his heart. Essentially is he doing this for love or hate. Yet we get a third motivation introduced this chapter, of him achieving his child self's dream of freedom in a wall-less world, and what do you know it's tied into "that scenery/that sight", Isayama you genius. What does this mean about those other motivations, though? Is everything false and it's just what Eren is telling himself? What's the lie? What's the truth? What to believe…

It might just be because Eren subconsciously called to Armin. So if more memories surface, more characters can talk with him potentially.

Time loop theory!

Timey Wimey P A T H S shenanigans.

Even if I'm not surprised, it's disappointing to see how Eren is the worst Jaeger after all. He used to make bad decisions trying to help "humanity", but now he just thinks he's right, when not even half of Paradis agrees with his ideas.

I hate Eren from the bottom of my heart. He's disgusting, a total piece of shit. And I love Isayama for giving me all these feelings. He's the real GOAT here.

Really made me wish Isayama hadn't gone for the ~mystery~ of Eren becoming the villain and had instead at least given us the flashbacks in chronological order. The way this long-awaited PoV reveal has been done has felt so clunky and awkward.

I honestly don't understand those who used to support the Rumbling but no longer do after this chapter; maybe they are the same kind of people that romanticized Omnicide and kept defending it as the  "morally correct thing to do"  and that they "would most certainly do it"  if they were in Eren's shoes... Until the reality hit them and all of their posturing like a bag of bricks - i.e. the typical edgy keyboard warrior.

As a pro-Rumbling fan, I always knew this was the expected outcome; if anything this chapter was everything I hoped that Isayama would show to us because it once and for all disproved the idea that Eren has a plan beyond the Rumbling. A Lelouch ending (which I hope doesn't happen) can still be pulled, but its not something that Eren is actively working torwards, but the end result if the alliance somehow stops him.

rumbling go brrrrrrrr

Zeke is controlling the bird with his beast Titan ability that he learnt from the paths realm

"what will my mother think of me?" Ashamed of you, eren, duh.

I really can't feel sorry for eren when this is ultimately the choice he made. There were always other choices up until the point where he killed many world leaders in his attack on Marley.

A bit sappy but understandable. From a egoist point of view Eren is justified in his actions, but of course this just reaffirms the Eldians "monstrous" nature to them. The Eldians dont have a realistic out unless the titans are truly gone forever if Eren loses. Curious about the birds.

A freckled girl appeared. That's progress.

BRUTAL.

Also what about the Eldians living outside of Paradis Island? IMO they are the ones suffering the most

Can he even be stopped?

Can people stop saying that because you enjoy the direction of the story that you’re a genocide supporter? I like shooter games too but I’m obviously not going to go kill anyone, everyone needs to chill out with the moral policing, you sound like the Tipper Gore crowd. Is the rumbling justified? No, but it’s a great direction for the story and it was inevitable once it was established what was in the walls. Chekhov’s gun had to go off sometime, I’m actually surprised how many people seem to be agonizing over this.

Can't put it into words how amazing AOT has become and is just stepping over each level taking one step at a time !!!

Can't wait till next one

Changed the opinion of many people on eren's genocide

Chapter confirmed Eren is NOT the father

Cruel just like the world

This chapter re-assured me that that first scene of Mikasa is the moment she says goodbye to a dying Eren.

Damn bro it’s great

Dang. When this is animated, I guarantee a lot of youtubers and just the anime fandom in general will think this is the best series of all time.

Eren is one of the best MCs of all time.

Eren is one of the most tragic characters on manga

Eren is the best protagonist

Eren is the GOAT but is also wrong and needs to die real soon

EREN IS THE GOATTTT. AOT IS THE GOATTTT. ISAYAMA IS THE GOATTTT.

Eren is truly the best developed main character from any shonen series, this chapter made my mind.

Eren loses it, again

great job Isayama. well done you madman

Great painfull chapter, Eren having a breakdown Made me so sad and depressed,  I wish him to achieve freedom

Greatest manga of all time

greatest piece of fiction of our generation

Hange is right, this is not an acceptable solution

I cried while reading it no joke

I don't even know what to say about Eren. Sure, this chapter is showing his guilt, but that definitely does NOT justify his actions. EXPLAIN YOURSELVES, YEAGERISTS, EREN STANS!!!!!! (sorry I'm just angry about him)

I still think there needs to be a twist, because for me the character development still doesn't work. Eren and Historia have both forgotten common sense and do awful stupid things for stupid, hollow (plot) reasons, and the 104th this entire arc have both become somewhat useless and self-righteous at the convenience of the author. I don't care if the whole arc happened this way just because clearly Isayama wants to have the rumbling as the last arc, but if this was his objective he should have been more focused on character consistency and less on the mystery of it all. It still all feels less like the choices of actual characters than plot convenience, and it gives me the same sensation of the Serumbowl, which I thought was the nadir of the series.

If truly there's won't be some last minute twist it's just bad character writing in service of a plot decided in advance. Same with Historia and the 104th. Who cares about character consistence? Not Isayama, apparently

For some reason Eren wants Armin to the what his is doing.

Honestly, of all the characters Armin is the last I'd want succeding in stopping Eren. Let Mikasa have the spotlight, damn it.

Beautiful pain

Beautifully drawn but very gory

a person can gladly become a devil or a god if he has to, for justice.

A truly sad and terrifying chapter. I never understood how anyone could support this. Don't get me wrong. I understand plotwise why it had to happen. I knew Isayama would show us this. This part was unavoidable for the story he's trying to tell. Doesn't mean I have ever supported it, or that I ever will. But hey at least Aruannie is cannon, so that's a silver linning to this absolutely horrible chapter.

PS. I never wanted to punch a fictional character in the face as much as I want to punch Eren's. Alas, he's not real and I will never get the satisfaction of doing that.

Adding onto child eren's freedom panel, i believe it represents the idea of freedom he had wished for before he was betrayed by the world itself.

All hail the mad king

All that suffering, for what. You won but at what cost

IT MAKES MY HEAD SPIN AND THE FORSHADOWING BUILD UP TO THIS CHAPTER IS JUST *chefs kiss*

It really shows that Attack On Titan isn’t an ordinary story. It is a storyline filled with emotions, tragedies and somehow the cruel reality that this world possesses.

It shifted through a lot of POVs, it was pretty good.

It showed the rumbling and Eren in much more impartial way.

It was crazy to finally see in Eren's Head but all it did was confirm the things I was thinking for awhile and put me more on his side.At this point I'm ride or Die Eren Yaeger just so I can see how this all ends.

It was good, but I wish we would've gotten more with the rest of the crew going to Marley.

Listen, I really love Eren, I have deeply felt for him. I still do, I relate too much with his own traumas but since the timeskip. I have distanced myself from him and I don't and have never supported on his stance for genocide because he set this up with Zeke and pushed Marley to go into war while they didn't want it in the first place. However I have too much of a strong emotional connection to him so I understand him and I admit, it made me doubt a little bit on some of my stances. Since Eren is so different from who he was back before the timeskip, I have always assumed and the manga has not proved me wrong, that he's being influenced by something or someone which is feeling on his traumas, anger, depression and dissapointments. So I am still extremely optimistic about him.

Jesus Fucking Christ

its funny how the dream dies with reality

Its great to finally get some of Erens thoughts but it’s just made me think he’s not acc the one in control

My tears create a whole new ocean.

no opinion really, chapter felt kinda flat and repetitive in parts

Alliance supporters learning that Eren is suffering with all this shit and isn't trash and pitiful like their hypocrite babies who were genociding their own people in the last 32 volumes.

Amazing. The way Eren developed from this angsty little child to someone who's willing to kill everyone to achieve his childhood dream and save his pals is truly wonderful.

Rumbling go wee

I found it tragically ironic that Eren just has a passing thought of what his mom would think of his actions, and it reminds me of how he wouldn’t listen to her when he was younger. Do you think this is a subtle indication that Eren hasn’t matured from the thought processes of a selfish boy, or does he truly hold weight and more consideration to what his mother (and other people) would think? Personally, I think he is more aware of outside views, but just refuses to accept that reality because he is so stuck on his own desires.

It's one of the pivotal scenes because atleast I know that within Eren he still at somepoint have consicience and shows that at somepoint he can be stopped.

Rumbling goes rumble

Eremin <3

Yams makes me confused! I dunno!

Collosal Titans go brr

CONFUSING IN WAY TOO MANY PARTS!!! where to start or stop... from ymir to bird to child eren is all confusing af but nice :)

Depression and depression

Did we really need to spend that many pages on that AruAni BS? So much for fucking 5% being left.

Dis gon be good

Let's get the final confrontation underway!

Welp, there is absolutely no defying it: Eren is the big bad and there is no secret plan to make it up.

Let’s get ready to RUUUUUUUUMBLE!

LETS FUCKING GOOO

Levi and Hange convo when? Armin and Annie end of the world sex when? Jean confessing to Mikasa when? Floch suprise killing Connie or Jean when? Floch getting thrown over board to die at sea rather than being shot when?

LOLZ at anyone still defending the rumbling after this chapter portraying it as something heroic or justifiable

Make me feel. Make me feel more.

Man, this is rough.

Overall well rounded chapter. Time to get back to alliance and Historia after this though.

Poor Eren. But I kind of understand.

Ppl who are calling Eren GOAT or saying they were only sad in this chapter bc Eren cried are legit psychopaths.

Seeing Eren’s POV and reasoning behind pursuing the rumbling makes me feel for him. We know he cares about his friends, paradis, etc. I am at a loss of words for this chapter. However I will say this, Armin in paths with Eren is not a coincidence. I think isayama is foreshadowing of a conversation THEY’VE ALREADY HAD, and what’s to come..

Isayama is being stingy about letting his characters talk to each other properly. I mean really how many scenes do we have left on this boat while the rumbling goes on? When there’s still so much to be said. Wasted chapter imo, a lot more could’ve been said and done.

E+H=Y

Eren confirmed that he will kill everyone. The rumbling cannot be stopped.

Even though we have gotten some insight on Eren's pov, it has created more questions than answers. His motives are still very confusing and we are still being kept in the dark

Every chapter update makes me sad :( the story has gotten so tragic and i love it but oof. I didnt think it could get sadder but Isayama proves me wrong every month

Every new released chapter is better than the last one. I love these series. Props to mr. Hajime Isayama 💪🏆

Exactly what we needed, have more faith now.

Exceeded my expectations. The last two chapters were mindblowing after a slow mini Arc at the port. Isayama can really pull ar your heartstrings with flashbacks and Eren's pov.

Thanks Isayama for the microscopic eremin crumbs

that kid eren scene though... easily the best scene the series so far

That was damn perfect

That was f***ing amazing and awful at the same time. I want this series to end, but actually no. Keep going Isayama. You crazy motherf***er.

the "beyond the walls" talk between armin and eren is being brought up again and im emotional now thx

The ending's gonna disappoint people, no matter how well/badly it's executed. Chapter was cool, but overhyped imo

The pacing seems slow, but then again, it was recently nodded to that the manga won't end at Chapter 134 or 135 but 136. And Isayama does have everything planned out for a long time. I don't think he'll disappoint.

the significance of many things in the story are too epic, carla and mikasa look alike, grisha and eren look alike, historia and dina even look alike, the repeating actions, along with the intricate history formed, give us a lot to speculate but nothing to confirm.

I am somewhat sad for eren, to see the point that he has reached by having that freedom that he longed for so much but that I hardly think exists is sad, I don't know how the hell this is going to end but hey I don't know

I can't even begin to imagine how this is going to look in the anime. Definitely not for the faint of heart.

I can't imagine how the manga will end in a few chapters

I can't wait for 132.

I can’t believe this

I can’t wait to see this chapter voice acted, holy shit.

I loved the context that Eren's apology provides, really gives some much needed insight on his thoughts about the future during the timeskip

I need him to talk to mikasa and armin!

On this poll, I noticed that there's nothing about Mikasa haha. I want her to have a moment for the next chapter, or appear on Eren's memories. We know she's gonna be playing a big role for this arc.

I like where the story is going and I can’t wait for the anime so I can show AOT to everyone.

I think Eren is going somewhere. If he wanted to rumble the world, he can control the titans even from the safety of Paradis. I think he is going to that tree under which Ymir fell.

I think it focuses on Eren a bit too much. Maybe show us some Levi? Thank you.

i think reiner is gay

I am currently not taking a side. Not with Eren or with the Yeagerists or with our heroes. I'm just here to see how it all goes down and how Isayama wants to play it out. I've been enjoying every single chapter and being so moved it's insane. F the ship wars and the bs, this story is much more than that. And tragedy is written all over it. Ok brb getting my tissues prepared for next chapter.... 👍

I don't know how many more issues we're going to have but I worry that the story is going to come to a screeching halt and leave too many questions unanswered. Isayama has got so many plates spinning, narratively speaking, I have no idea how he is going to finish them or if he'll finish them at all.

Just a series of gut-punches one after the other after every panel, oof this chapter affected me more than any other. It also made me wonder about how the planet in general would be affected.  Like how would ecosystems change?  Will Eren only go after the civilized countries and then stop?  Or will he not let a single person survive outside the island and just actually steamroll the whole planet?  If he does, wouldn't that change climates and stuff?  What's about the animals and plants? Am I thinking too much about this? How will the drastic changes affect the Paradisians? All this assuming the alliance doesn't manage to stop him (which is likely)

although initially him and reiner seemed to pursue the same path, eren initial motive was to wipe them all and he said it multiple times, I don't believe he has guilt nor remorse because "it was all set from the very start"

We also got a seamless reintegration of the theme of what it means to be a "good person", something both Armin and Annie have grappled with as far back as Female Titan arc, and it's great to see it re-emerge in the context of the rumbling. Annie is an underrated character. Isayama could have had her come back with some bullshit royal blood or daughter-of-Kruger twist, but instead he decides to integrate her into the conflict as her own person and make her a more interesting character than Reiner (sorry Soul).

Eren is allowed to have emotions, he should be able to feel terrible about himself for having to wipe out most of humanity. But he also believes that this is the only way. He begged Hange if there was another way, he WANTED an option that didn't end with the world being rumbled. When Hange had no ideas, and no else had a plan that would keep Paradis safe, he felt like he had to move forward, towards freedom.

Eren is neither right or wrong in his decision. Killing innocents, destroying entire ecosystems and ending human civilization is morally bankrupt. In many ways his plan is short sighted, but when I say this, my stance comes from a logical standpoint rather than a moral one(the political instability of the island, the precedent it sets, the danger he put his friends in). The *most* moral thing to do was a partial rumbling(there are still some issues both logistical and moral) and while 2 wrongs don’t make a right, I hold Marley and many other nations equally at fault for not being willing to end this diplomatically. Their scorched earth policy brought this on. It’s unfortunate that their citizens are paying the price for their governments crimes. But you can’t threaten to wipe out an entire civilization with no negotiation and not expect a desperate response like a full rumbling. This doesn’t absolve eren of responsibility of his actions, but the rumbling is an extremely unfortunate even that was 100% avoidable if diplomacy had been an option.

Eren, no! That’s all I can say at this point! Armin please, I’m begging you, stop your mans.

Eren, what the fuck?

Eren's self pity doesn't change the fact that he's killing millions of innocents and he's not going to stop despite it.

Eren’s guilt over his actions doesn’t mean a thing considering he’s still doing it. The fact that he saw the future and did nothing to stop it (and actively made it happen) makes him even worse. I don’t feel sorry for him in the slightest.

Even though Eren has the skeletal structure as an (I don't even know.. turkey/bird.. eh...) people are still going to simp the shit out of him on twitter, like jfc-

Eren wanted to destroy all life outside paradis not because he wanted outside world to be just a wonderland of blazing fire , grasslands etc. but because the people outside are making it impossible enough for him to realise his dream of total freedom

I would like to add that AruAni scene was, in my opinion, really important for both armin and Annie character development, since they're having a romance scene with the theoretically enemy (armin is from paradis and Annie is from Marley). I think this represent well that people from Marley and people from Eldia can live together, without violence. (I wish I could write more, but English is not my first language)

I'm glad we're finally getting things more thoroughly from Eren's perspective. Up until now, his motivations and thoughts have mostly been discussed by other characters, but we finally get to hear from him directly. This chapter mostly confirmed what I suspected, that Eren isn't heartless, but he was also a tragic character that was perfectly aware of the destruction he was about to bring upon so many people. Overall really good, can't wait for the next chapter, whatever it may be.

I'm happy that Isayama made clear what an egoist and violent nature  Eren always had, since he was a child: he's not an hero, not an avenger and surely not the "chad goat" some teen edgelords think.

I'm literally shaking so hard rn

The wall titans were always an obvious metaphor for "what if Japan had WMDs", but in this chapter this is made even more obvious when there is nothing left from migrant children but two dark kid-shaped splatters on the ground, which is a pretty clear visual reference to citizens of Hiroshima leaving nothing but scorched silhouettes behind when the atomic bombing happened.

Ironically, there was a popular twitter thread this week about the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and despite not being very familiar with the topic itself, I was somewhat amused to find the arguments in the comments to be very familiar. It's payback, it's to prevent future war, it was justified because of Japanese government's war crimes, Japanese citizens were indoctrinated and racist and would NEVER give up fighting foreigners so bombings were a mercy, it's collateral damage, etc etc.

The warriors deserve much better than being used as props.

There's 99% chance this series is getting a downer ending

They had it coming. The world was warned yet they still provoked him so much. I feel for Eren..

What is the most disappointing thing is how selfish and unreasonable mankind can be. So much hatred between so many people and nations, the world of Attack on Titan is a cursed one. So much blood spilled everywhere, and why? Is it because it's justice? Or is it because it's mother nature? Or is it because mankind is known for bloodshed and selfishness? So much hatred has blinded people, they no longer care to listen for the reason. Nothing matters to them, just their goals. All of this pointless conflict when people can simply try to speak up, try to understand each other, simply make bonds. If people could only live with a bit more empathy... All we can do is hope that so many deaths will have any meaning. Or perhaps Genocide/omnicide never had any meaning... Perhaps all of this was pointless strife.

This chapter confirmed Uri's predictions during his conversation with Kenny by the river. It remains to be seen now whether the alliance will be able to stop eren. I am sad for the world and for Ramzi and his brother. The pictures were horrible to watch (Isayama is very good at drawing emotions).

i'm...so very tired

I’m freakin cryin i need someone to hold me

Slowly, everything is coming back in its place. I am super dedicated at this point to the manga and I just hope Isayama is gonna be able to reach the perfect conclusion for such all these years of construction.

So Eren is a fish Titan...?

Still pro-rumble

Such a tragedy this whole story is. Really heartbreaking to witness. But so meticulously done and masterfully written.

Somebody said, maybe Eren and Zeke were actually fighting or going on memory journey schmuck in the Paths currently, that's why Eren is sleeping and automatically runs the titan on the outside.

If zeke didn’t pull this shit up in the first place none of this wouldn’t happen

Starting to reconsider the time-loop theory being wrong. Everything is literally coming full circle.

Isayama youre a genius but you love seeing us hurt and confused dont you 😭😭😭

It bothered me how surprised people were that Eren did the rumbling and it was sad.  He's been saying he was gonna do it for ages, and now he is.  What's with the surprised pikachu fandom?

Jesus Christ everyone needs therapy

Please end this story with happy ending!

[whitherliliesbloom]

will you love me even when the sun sets?

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #27 (free write) - esteem ]

[ alphinaud/wol ]  ★ [ 1,386 words ]  ★ [ some time in shb ]

illya skawi & alphinaud leveilleur with heavy mentions of fray / dark illya. the other scions are there in the background too. warning for some talks about self harm and of course, lots of depression. this is illya we’re talking about here.

the first step in coming to terms with yourself is the unconditional support of the one you love most.

The eclipse is unsightly against the bright, radiant backdrop of everlasting light, dark, distant and uncaring as the moon as it seeks to engulf the sky in cold darkness. But that was what Norvrandt needed - what the people deserved... a Warrior of Darkness that could bring them the beauty of stars and cold midnight air back into their lives.

They needed a hero - as the people of Eorzea did - a hero that was dark but not evil, a sinner who was rebellious but not malicious. And a savior who was strong, valiant, and ready to bear the torch that was the people’s wishes upon her own two shoulders.

She didn’t fit the mold at all, at least not in her own eyes.. And with every swing of her great sword, and the howling of the pitch in her soul as an unforgiven sorrow within herself constantly fought to burst out, she felt the weight of her responsibilities, the pain of unresolved hurt and years of nonexistent self-esteem begin to take its toll upon her frail, battered body and mind. Not that she was ever perfectly intact in the first place.

She hated for them to see this side of her - her shadow, her inner beast and stubborn to no end tormentor. She hated the color red on herself - hated the way her eyes would burn in their sockets as they changed from a warm glowing amethyst.. full of hope, vigor and life.. to one of a dark crimson that held nothing but disdain for the world. And she hated, with every fiber of her being, the way her other side would speak to them.. as if they were strangers no more deserving of attention as an insect on the side of a dirt road, when it was she who was worth nothing - worthless to even save herself, let alone the world she has been entrusted to. 

Illya hated Esteem more than anything else she could ever loathe in the world combined - because she knew it to be the perfect reflection of herself. 

Amidst the dark of the night, away from the judging eyes of her friends and found family who she feared of scaring away, she wielded her broad sword with a brutal, yet uncannily elegant stance. And Sidurgu had been among the first besides the lie that was Fray Myste to point that out. 

He’d commented with much awe, and yet to the utter dismay and horror of the Warrior of Light herself of the way she harnessed and tapped into the shadows so naturally, and fought so mercilessly upon the battlefield that it’d been akin to watching her perform a grim, but beautiful dance. Even among torn flesh and blood, regardless whether it was that of her enemy or her own, the shadow in her soul flourished most when she, no matter how temporarily, accepted it as a part of herself. 

But she never wanted to be a dark knight, never wanted to be in possession of Fray Myste’s soul crystal. And to this very day, she laments ever allowing her own naivety and kindness, the very thing Fray constantly mocked her for, to lead her to his lifeless body in the brume. 

What cruel irony was it then, that the only way she could save the First right now, bring back the night to the scorching sky above - was to finally embrace the dark within herself. 

It’s the longest she’s used her broad sword, the warmest she’s ever felt the scarlet soul crystal within her breast pocket, and the most she’s seem the scions look at her with a wariness that only served to tear her consciousness apart.

Esteem ever lacked in tact when it came to both fighting and speaking, though Illya would arguably prefer if she’d done the latter way less. And the extent of Esteem’s hostility towards her own allies would only occur to her when Alphinaud, of all people, had asked her if that was naught she or the others could do about the heinous, disgusting creature that possessed her body. 

And in that moment, she’d felt a gut wrenching anguish, one that she has foolishly allowed to fester over the course of the past few weeks as they carried on their mission to wipe out the lightwardens of Norvrandt. 

He’ll never accept you.

Sineaters stood no match against the abyss she spewed forth from palm of her hand and the slash of her sword. But she also stood no match against her own fragile mental fortitude, and in all her weakness, allowed herself to call his name - to ask him, against her better judgement. 

She’d hoped fruitlessly with each lightwarden she slayed that the light she absorbed would cleanse her soul, even when she knew better than anyone else that light can never exist without dark. 

Even if it destroyed who you were, even if it meant losing what made you whole, you would deny me?

If that’s what it took for them to accept me - for him to accept me.

Oh how she longed to rip herself apart, tear open her heart and crush it betwixt her already bloody, dirty hands.  It wouldn’t be the first time her blood would be drawn by her own blade or nails, and she feared that as long as she kept living this selfish, ignorant life, she would never see a last. And how many times has she wondered just how much brighter the world would be if she were to not exist? How many times would she have to endure having her heart carved and split apart?

If it can stop the hurt, she would. If it would stop herself from being so ugly, so utterly and completely irredeemable as a person. 

The screeches of the sineaters that her blade plunged into intermingled with the pained grunts of the warrior, as sweat trickled down her brow and caused her hair of moonbeam to stick to the sides of her neck and armor. The stench of purity wafts into her nose and she grimaces with a deep furrowed scowl. After hanging on for as long as she could, she’s beginning to slip again, and she curses beneath her breath before driving the end of the sword into the ground beneath her so hard, it forms cracks in the earth. Her vision’s growing foggy, with the voices of the scions that caught beside her echoing distantly as if she were slipping beneath water.

She can just barely hear Alisaie’s voice of concern, and Ryne’s expression of horror as Illya raises her left hand up to claw at her face, leaving hideous red lines down her eye and cheek. 

Not again. Not again, dammit! Not in front of everyone!

And when Illya dares herself to look up, she sees Alphinaud, crouched in front of her with his hands raised, eyes glazed over with worry that she was sure would twist into hate soon enough.

And the years of her own ability to accept herself, fear of being cast out by the people she loved, and the many many scars of trauma she carried after fighting with no respite for herself for so long finally crashes onto her. Like a wave of self-realization, she finally understands that no matter how much she fought, no matter how much light she’d absorb, there would never be a way to salvage her. 

She didn’t know why she’d decided to break now, and she was sure she had an exceptional talent for holding back herself. But for the first time in a long while, she feels tears pouring down her face from her eyes as they begin to shift in hue. The woman shuffles forward a few steps before collapsing onto her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

“P-Please...please.. don’t look at me.”

And against her expectations, Alphinaud falls too, and embraces her tightly in his arms, pulling her against his chest even as a ruinous shadow begins to seep from her skin, pooling around them and threatening to blind his sight too. 

She hears him whisper in her ear, and it’s her sole salvation against the setting sun and the umbra of the shadowy moonlight. 

“Illya, I’ll always love you. Every part of you. Even if you can’t love yourself.”

[elfyourmother]

8 and 38, for the forty questions meme!

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Really that whole goddamn scene in I Want to Wake Up... where the Scions are arguing over whether or not to let Emet join them, but this exchange between Ysayle and Thancred in particular:

And Ysayle lowered her eyes a moment, a pensive hand held to her heart, before she raised her icy blue gaze to meet that of Hades with a furrowed brow. “I, too, suffered the manipulations of your kind long before I was summoned to the First. But I cannot well speak against this in good conscience, for there is little difference between you and I, save the length and the scope of our machinations. How could I aim my own blood-stained finger at you in recrimination? Saint preserve me but I, too, once believed my intentions were pure, and that noble ends justified cruel and savage means—until I met Gisele. Because of her, I was granted a second chance I do not deserve, a chance to atone which I have seized with all that I am. And I cannot help but believe now as I did then that such chances must be seized, for Fate does not often gift them.”

 “You did not consign seven worlds entire to utter annihilation in pursuit of your aim, Ysayle,” Thancred countered. “Seven worlds! And this one brought to the brink an eighth time. In the Exarch’s future, he succeeded. What an incalculable toll, all because he and his ilk viewed us as little but expendable insects, acceptable sacrifices to restore their perfect world.”

 “The lives of the people in Foundation meant no less for being fewer to those who survived to mourn them,” Ysayle argued. “And I viewed them as acceptable casualties in my own righteous crusade, until I saw the price I so callously demanded they pay, at last with mine own eyes. I did not have tempering to blame for my callousness, either. Only my own deluded self-righteousness.”

 “He tried to kill us!”

 “As did I!” Ysayle snapped. “Have you forgotten Snowcloak and the Amphitheatre so quickly? And what of your supply caravans? I was as avowed an enemy of the Scions as the Holy See, for I saw you then as little more than the Archbishop’s pawns. And yet you still embraced me as a sister, Thancred. You forgave me, and embraced me, all of you--and you all gave me the home and the family for which I have always longed. In that, I have found my purpose, I have at last answered my true calling as a daughter of Hydaelyn. I cannot say I am well pleased by Hades, or by what he has done, but neither can I condemn him, for in so doing I would condemn myself. How can I possibly say he is any less deserving of the grace I myself did not deserve? And what good might he accomplish were he given it, the way I was?”

 “Have you forgotten he robbed you of your family in the first place?” Thancred asked, his voice raising an incredulous octave. “The whole of Coerthas lies buried in eternal winter because of Garlemald and the Calamity it so callously instigated in the name of the Emperor’s campaign to subjugate we savages.”

 “I most certainly have not,” Ysayle replied coldly. “But it was not Emet-Selch hardened the heart of the Count de Durendaire against the people of Falcon’s Nest, leaving us abandoned to freeze alone in the snow—the old and infirm, women and children besides. The Ascians are responsible for many evils in this world—and you need not lecture Lady Iceheart on them, Thancred, for I shall curse the name of Igeyorhm so long as I draw breath and rejoiced verily in her demise. But there are as yet many more evils in which the Ascians have laid naught a shadowy hand. We should all do well to remember that.”

I’m proud of that because there’s just so much to unpack here, so much is going on. I mean this is a very impassioned debate and both of them are completely justified to feel the way they do, Ysayle on the pro-Emet side and Thancred on the anti-Emet side. Nobody’s wrong here. It also roots this story very much in the larger context of the conflicts we’ve had with the Ascians--it’s a needed and sobering reminder of just how much fuckery can ultimately be traced back to Emet’s meddling. But there’s also a layer here of showing just how far Ysayle has come on her journey, how deeply embedded she is in the lives of her friends and companions in the Scions. She hasn’t been Lady Iceheart for a very, very long time--the  same woman who used to attack supply caravans intended for the Scions nearly died to see their mission come to fruition, and she’s a living testament to the power of forgiveness and second chances, because she’s done so much good with them since then. And that in and of itself is argument enough for letting Emet in.

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

There’s a reader I have who has left a comment on a couple of different fics now where they compared me very favorably to Jacqueline Carey, and I’m still absolutely gobsmacked by it tbqh--being mentioned in the same breath as one of my all time favorite authors means a lot, and I don’t think I’m especially worthy of that kind of high praise

And ftr, for all the allusions and little shoutouts I make to KL in my fics, I’m not ever intentionally aping Carey’s style--I wrote that way years before I was introduced to KL, and if she’s had any sort of influence on me it’s to give me permission to really lean into my style. I’ve had years of “prose should be minimalist and terse”, years of “anything poetic is purple and Bad” “just say blue, you pretentious bitch, nobody knows what cerulean means” beaten into me by fandom and their sporking and their Sue litmus tests.

It’s why even though I was a fairly prolific ME writer compared to DA, I always felt somewhat constrained, because my writing style has always been much more suited to the high fantasy that’s my bread & butter and what I’m most interested in (this is why writing Thane was such a joy to me--I could let loose in a way I otherwise couldn’t).

JC was the first author I read who leaned into the lushness of language and played with it in clever ways and I felt like I was freed and had permission to do it myself--if she could do it, and so well, why did I have to tone myself down and try to write in ways that weren’t authentic to me?

[crystalliccs]

                 WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE.    PART ONE.                       ________________________

                 Note: Female Warrior of Light/Darkness. Miqo’te. Summoner.                  Part one is completely sfw! (And it’s not beta read. Do not judge.)

                 HEAVY PATCH 5.3 SPOILERS.

                 Word Count: 4844 (read more-cut due to the length)                  Ship: G’raha Tia/WoL                       ________________________

The sharp, illuminous blade reflected the light perfectly as he swung it several times in fluent motions – full glad that only for once he could do this without any curious eyes watching him. And yet it was almost as if their shadows still lingered inside the rooms of the Rising Stones, gawking and eagerly commenting his work. Yet the man failed to grasp their fascination for his skills completely; as he understood that he was scarcely more than a fresh beginner in so many aspects. Perchance even far less experienced than them all. And, merely sometimes, he felt at loss – overwhelmed by his very own emotions dwelling inside, as he could sense a trace of pride, of honor. Thus he could hardly afford to rest and enjoy his very own life when he had done naught so far.

With this young body of his, at least.

It was tedious and so very different from controlling his body in the First; albeit he would debate if those crystalline shapes he walked on ever truly had been his in the first place. No, to be quite frank he had to debate if he ever were truly alive as Exarch - shedding off all of his humanity to outlive the eternal slumber for a little longer so that he could reach for the salvation of their worlds. And truthfully, it had made him be far more powerful than he had imagined it would. Connecting his own aether with the collected boundless amount of the sun, all stored within the central spire, he had become far more than the marionette of the voices of the ancient Allag whispering to him whenever he closed his sanguine hues.

It had not been his very own aether which fed his body for an entire century; and most certainly wasn’t an old man - who hardly ever left the Ocular for so many decades - supposed to be able to keep up with true heroes of another world who knew no other life. Yet he had achieved as much; borrowing the strength to do so by shortening his close to now immortal life, step by step.

Oh, he gladfully endured this all – feeling the icy coldness of the crystallization proceeding to cover his chest so ever slowly with every spell he conjured. It had been a slow death – one he embraced should the time arrive.

Yet the time had changed. He could no longer rely on such ancient secrets – nor could he sacrifice what had been bestowed upon him. Another chance.

Even a few weeks after awakening from his long slumber, G’raha was still far from being satisfied of the very condition of his very own body. Though younger and revitalized as he still so very freshly remembered through his younger soul deep inside, it was still far more challenging to use the very own resources of it instead of relying on the power bestowed by ancient technology. Truthfully, it had taken him all this time to remember himself of his common body’s functions, as pathetic and foolish as it was – such as the need to even sleep. Albeit he had undeniably become better in managing such normal needs by now, the Miqo’te still attempted to push himself towards his own limits every now and then, exploring the possibilities.

He had lost count of the many apologies he had mumbled recently, uncertain how to behave or control himself in this new environment when both of his souls still attempted to grasp that he had indeed broken free of his chains. An impossible task, as it seemed. It would take him more than one century of him mostly isolating himself inside the Crystal Tower to not notice certain individuals’ worried gazes. One particular ambitious lalafell somehow always showed her motherly face when he indeed started to feel unwell, gently reminding him to rest. Oh, and it was by far not only Tataru, unfortunately. They all kept a close eye on him.

So, he feared naught at changed – that he was still the very same.

Yet such knowledge only made him strengthen his resolve to work on himself so much more; lest he became a burden to his newfound comrades.

The man had to admit that some very selfish part of him wanted to step out of the Rising Stones and join the others for longer, raising his own cup when they did and enjoying the prepared feast to the fullest. Perchance even catch a glance or two upon the smiling face of his beloved who finally indulged in such activities after all she had done. But how could he? His lips would merely curl into one of these delightful smiles he only had for her whenever she glanced upon him, without him ever saying those words which always lingered on his tongue. Words of affection, of love. And, as he feared, he would merely get teased for it once again. Albeit he had never spoken about such thoughts with anyone, he was quite certain that a few individuals were fully aware of what he truly felt. In fact, he already considered such assumption in the First.

And still his lips remained sealed.

The man quickly twirled on one steady foot, with the tip of his illuminous blade drawing one perfect circle to pierce through a great chunk of wood of the dummy he had used for the past twenty minutes. For once he did not even feel the harsh impact on its sturdy surface inside his muscles – unlike all of his previous attempt over the course of several days. His sanguine eyes widened a little by his own display of strength as he was taking one sharp breath. Soft clapping echoed from the stony walls of the room, as he realized that he was indeed not alone at all. Perchance he had been mistaken that anyone would participate in the festival after all, but he could certainly cope.

Quickly sheathing his sword again, head slightly tilting to glance upon his observer, G’rahas lips lightly opened in surprise.

“One clean cut. You have indeed been practicing a lot, lately – haven’t you? I believe you have been less proficient last time I saw you swinging a sword against a proper opponent”, the Warrior of both Light and Darkness spoke as she took a few steps closer to him, mint eyes glaring with unbelief.

Truthfully, he had hoped she would not become witness of such poor display of skill until he had honed such a little more; yet he could hardly pretend that seeing her was unpleasant in any possible way. Her company never was, albeit this was perchance no convenient time.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, playfully pouting yet her aggressively swinging tail was indeed telling him that she was annoyed. Angry even, mayhap. His eyebrows slightly furrowed as his expression softened into a silent apology as immediate reaction – knowing full well she deserved as much. And so much more.

“But - G’raha, really. Pray tell me you do not intend to hide away here and train all by yourself whilst everyone else is enjoying themselves”, she continued, carefully watching him as she stopped a few fulm in front of him – seemingly judging him with every fiber of her body.

“Oh, about that. Well, I merely considered this as fine opportunity to spar with myself without disturbing anyone else. Though, in truth, I am still getting accustomed to how loud and crowded it can be in the Rising Stones. So ‘tis indeed a quite welcome change”, he attempted to explain with a gentle voice, with his ears excitedly twitching as so very often when he spoke with her.

In the very end he would not dare to say the full truth about his endeavor. Nor that he not solely did it for himself – but also for her.

“Hardly an excuse to miss such a rare opportunity, I daresay. You need the rest more than any of us. Besides, everyone poured their hearts’ content into the preparation. You included. ‘Tis hardly fair if you do not participate.”

“I indeed had one cup of fine ale thus far”, the man shrugged, albeit his facial expression remained the very same. Kind and soft.

“And I had two. This is not a contest”, the woman reminded him, easing her posture for merely a little. She moved around him towards one the many empty chairs near him, which were usually always filled. But not now, when the spirit of enthusiasm had long departed to celebrate outside with everyone else. If she truly ever had been angry at him, it was scarcely noticeable by now.

G’raha could not help but to feel relieved upon such sight, feeling the tension of his still agitated muscles to disappear by merely looking at her. Her small silhouette seemed almost…calm – as calm as one could be before the next raging storm was fast approaching. He knew this too well. And it would come – particularly since the most recent reports from Garlemald had certainly stirred more than one rumor in these halls. It was indeed worrisome, to say at least. Yet perchance this was not the right moment to speak of such topic. If the situation changed, they were the first to know anyway. And until then, well – there was so much to discuss. To consider.

Mayhap his own selfishness indeed drove him to such decision to prepare himself to become her shield if he must. One final burden to bear, one she had not to know of. It had been his choice, in the very end. One he had not to oblige, yet his heart demanded.

For her there was still a chance to enjoy this evening if she left and let him be.

“So, my inspirational friend and hero, pray enlighten me what you seek if you are so unwilling to join the festivities outside. I doubt you have entered the Rising Stones to pry on my poor efforts”, he spoke rather amused, with his velvety tone merely becoming higher in spirits. Of course it was merely a small jest, one he happened to voice every now and then by now, yet genuine curiosity swung inside his very tone as well.

Her eyes widened a little ere she closed them again, her tail curling on her lap in utter defeat. “Mayhap I happen to find it unfitting for myself to enjoy the festivities as well and sought to find a quiet place instead. Not unlike your own idea, as it seems.”

“Ah, it would seem so. Though I fail to fathom how the guest of honor managed to escape unnoticed.” “I have my ways.”

His lips revealed his perfect teeth, a small and yet ever sweet grin as answer to her own she showed after giving such mischievous reply. Truthfully, he indeed felt so much younger when he was with her like this, despite still feeling the nagging burden of his older self at the corner of his mind. In those moments he could almost forget it all – the dark future he had witnessed, the sacrifices he had made just to save countless of lives. She was the only one who could create such oblivion for him – who truly made him feel alive again.

“Perchance now is a good time as any to ask…” The young woman lifted one hand to point it towards the blade resting on his hips, slightly tilting her head. “I have noticed you scarcely ever carry the staff Tataru so carefully prepared for you anymore. Is it not to your liking?”

His chest lifted heavily upon realizing that she had indeed noticed. Suffice to say his eyes had always silently followed her over all these past weeks, even if only to assure himself that she indeed was the same as always. Always determined and strong, prepared to forsake anything in any moment. No, he had even done more than this – eagerly following into her footsteps, even accompanying her once on a small little adventure just as she had promised. Mayhap he had been foolish to assume she would not notice what seemingly everyone else seemed to know already. His ears flopped a little, perchance a little ashamed to admit what he had concealed for the past few weeks.

His hidden struggles, the strains of his muscles and his reckless endeavor just for her sake. Yet could he not at least say as much when she already asked? After his long concealment, of his failed attempts to lie, could he not voice the truth even if only parts of it?

“Well…Controlling my own aether to conjure spells is far more challenging than I had imagined. Though, I believe, I have learned quite well to hold myself by now. Thank goodness for that. Yet there is no doubt in my heart that my poor control of such stand little chance against your mighty summons. However, ‘tis hardly a surprise, of course. When I first woke up in this body again, my mind kept repeating the very same question. And so I pondered… I asked myself what I could possibly do with this newly gained life I embraced. Suffice to say, the conclusion I came to was quite simple. I want to live the very dream of a young boy I once was – and I wish to stand by your side.”

Clenching a fist, he bumped it against his chest a few times, one light smile still visible on his full lips.

“So, I have decided for myself to become your sword and shield henceforth.”

“G’raha…”, she whispered, quietly and slowly rising from the chair she had picked just moments ago, scratching lightly over the stony floor. “You do not have to do this for me.” The thin line of her eyebrows lightly furrowed in concern, light footed steps coming closer once again.

For a mere moment he saw more inside the reflection of her beautiful eyes surrounded by those astonishing long leashes – one hint of an emotion, perhaps fear. An entire tale carefully hidden away inside them, one he yearned to decipher. “So ‘tis as I feared. You still feel the burden on your shoulders, do you not? After all this time… Would it not be possible to make a finer choice than this?”

Her lips began to form more, unspoken words – yet he heard no tone, nor did he know what she attempted to add. Nonetheless he fully understood the true meaning behind them; since he could ask her the very same question.

Why carrying the burden of an entire world when one had the choice not to? Knowing the risks, knowing the countless sleepless nights and the hidden, dry tears deep inside their souls.

“’Tis easier said than done, I fear. You among all should know this as well as I do. You have found and touched many souls on your path – inspired them to act when there was naught left to believe in. In the many moments of desperation, when the hope slipped through their fingers, becoming unreachable by their very own strength, your kindness guided them. “ His lips formed a wry smile, remembering his own naivety in his younger years.

“Of course, I was no exception. And when I first set my mind on this world’s salvation, I realized the full extend of your sacrifices. Over the years the burden became heavier, weighing upon my heart. And yet… No, ‘tis my full intention to live my life to the fullest. Without any regret. And I cannot imagine doing this without you.”

Too many unspoken words lingered in the heavy air surrounding them, taking both of their breaths for a moment. Words, which had always dwelled in their minds, for all this time – and yet failed to ever reach the other’s ears. And whilst their souls had silently yelled in this buried, pitch-black corner inside their very heart, their very own numbness and regret had made them so vulnerable. Those tears they both had pretended to not heavily wear; the immeasurable burden of two entire worlds resting on their shoulders which threatened to make them falter and they attempted to ignore regardless. Always staying silent, always quietly suffering in the very cage they had created – knowing this was the only path they could take.

He recognized this very gaze she showed him now – knew of its meaning. Each shade of her mint colored eyes showed the very same shadows he could see in his very own gaze inside the mirror – the souls of the lost; the fragments of what remained when they had failed. The man watched her reflection inside the mirror for so many centuries; watched her struggling, laying in her own blood and yet mourning for each one she had not been able to save.

He had done the same; slightly smiling underneath his cowl to give his posture strength whilst his fingers tightly clutched his staff over all these years. Listening to the sheer endless reports of their casualties; listening to the refugee’s horrific encounters with the menace they faced every single day.

Even now, after both of his souls had united in one body and mind, and he could glimpse on freedom for the very first time in his life – a true choice given to him – it was impossible to avert his gaze from the path he already had chosen. The dream he once had a boy had long awakened, shaping in pleas of a distant past and mocking nightmares. All of his entire being had yearned to partake in the Scion’s duty; to stand next to the comrades, these friends, he respected – yet some small part inside, deep within, had also seen it as necessity. And, from what he understood, she was so very similar. Albeit given the choice to rest so very often she never did, never hesitated. It was the trait worthy of a true hero who shaped their entire future – yet who also lead onto a very destructive path.

Oh, he knew this all too well.

The short glimpse of warmth, of happiness just to see it withering once again, turning to emotionless dust – never touching one’s own life.

Because those who fought, who did remember - the forgotten, the untold tales no one else knew besides them, had to carry their burden for all eternity.

His face expression changed, sanguine hues filling with a sea of sadness and regret. In truth he wanted to lay it all bare – wanted to speak those hidden words so many moons ago, when he was still believing in his own selfish, pathetic demise. And now, after receiving a second chance he still concealed himself in this veil of silence, ignoring his fast throbbing heart, fearing what her answer would be. An answer he would have given for so many decades as well. Yet if he continued to let his heart wither and die, failing to let his own emotions reach her, he would no longer be able to look upon those faces who sincerely wished for his happiness.

Wasn’t she one of them, in the very end…? He knew that she, among all of them, needed one plain word of affection the most. It was selfish, mayhap… Yet how harmful could it be to set himself free from the chains of his feelings for her? Emotions he had learned to well control, which he had been prepared to take with him when he embraced death itself. No, he certainly would not ponder about such things if there even was the possibility of accidentally hurting her. In truth it did not even matter to him if she returned the immortal love he felt for her – as long as he could ease her indescribable loneliness for merely a little.

“I…’Tis a selfish request, I am certain – nevertheless, I must ask one final thing of you. That you survive, no matter what. And that you will return…to my side.”

G’raha took a heavy breath, calloused fingertips finding her surprisingly thin shoulders to carefully bury themselves into her soft skin. He was scarcely taller than her, a few ilm at best perchance, but this made it solely easier to observe her fair face so very close to his own. Her rose lips already parted, likely in attempt to respond, yet he immediately cut her off, fearing if his own words got lost in hers they would never reach her.

“Every time someone calls for your aid in desperate times, I want you to remember that the very thought of losing you is frightening to me and I can ill afford losing you. This world has long entrusted all their hopes onto you, and with each day I fail to fully fathom the burden you still bear. Nevertheless, I can imagine. And I wish for you to know that before I draw my dying breath, I shall share and attempt to ease the weight you’re carrying. Lest you forget you are not alone.”

His voice had become velvety yet strong, as his resolve resonated with each word he spoke. There was so much more to say – so much more to reveal – yet opening his heart this very way after all these years was indeed quite a challenge. The emotions had long suffocated him until he had banished them, losing his own humanity with each passing day after replacing them with the numb, faceless mask of the Exarch. But no longer.

“G’raha – pray tell me, why exactly are you telling me this”, she asked in a hoarse whisper, finally seizing the opportunity to speak, worrying he might say more. The young hero had not moved ever since he had approached her, but the shades inside her eyes were ever moving, observing – and filled with the very same sadness he felt burning deep inside his soul when looking upon her.

Oh, what would he gave for her to look at him differently – not with the kind, worrying eyes of an hero but those of a loving woman.

“I love you”, he said plainly, lips curling into a soft smile, unable to hold it back any longer. “I do not regret one single moment by your side, nor my… quite selfish actions in the First. It was all for you, to protect you. And it pains me to know you all alone even now, shouldering all dreams and hopes by yourself. Whatever it takes, I will see you finding your happiness. And I… I trust you are well aware that I do not require you to accept my feelings. They are genuine, I assure you – and I cannot imagine any one being more worthy of them than you.”

The pressure of his fingertips on her shoulders grew – not to cause harm but to steady himself for the remaining words which still had to slip his tongue. He would love to indulge in the sensation of his touch for longer, usually shunning to be as close to her to not awaken those lustful desires.  

Would she allow him to come closer, even if just for a brink of a moment…? Could she already listen to his loudly throbbing heartbeat and merely bore it for his sake?

His sanguine eyes disappeared beneath his long lashes, not to hide them from her but rather to dwell in his own memories as he spoke. His chest lifted, filled with the emotions of all these moments they had shared albeit ever so briefly.

“Worry not, my inspiration – my only love. For I am eternally glad that your star has charted my course, I will never forget your kindness nor anything you have done to save my own life. So I will not ask more of you than I already have. In truth, I already received so much more than what I had dreamed of. So I beseech you, pray let me aid you in any possible way. Just say the word, my friend.”

His hands felt as heavy as the crystalline form he once possessed when he attempted to lift them from her shoulders again, intending to give her some space. Yet the faint grip of one of her hands found his own, carefully wrapping his wrist to hold it in place. His eyes flung open as he felt the unexpected touch, meeting the pair of shiny mint colored eyes filled with tears, he reckoned. The man’s lips parted in surprise as his reddish ears laid close to his head.

“Why do you speak of such things, asking for naught in return?”, she asked, her voice slightly trembling – yet in apparent anger, with her ears moving agitatedly. “Do you truly never ponder about your own well-being, not even now of all times? After learning that they all wish for the very same… Rammbroes, Krile, Lyna… All good people of the Crystarium. They all wish for you to live your own life. You have already done so much, so pray tell me why you still fail to see this…?”

He did not move nor grit it teeth as her free hand clenched a fist to tenderly beat his chest a few times. As she stopped the fingertips clutched the fabric of his new garment, leaning in her weight until she almost rested inside his arms. Yet just almost. He could feel her hot breath brushing the bare skin around his collarbones, sending an immediate shiver down his spine. His limbs were itching to move, to pull her into a full and proper embrace – nonetheless he did not dare to move, not understanding her current actions.

“‘Tis true, we are indeed so very alike, you and I. And most certainly you are just as stubborn as I am. ‘Tis why I am…glad to know you as my companion henceforth. Yet I cannot condone you to suffer in my place. Ultimately, I solely want to see you finally happy as well. I want to see your dreams lived and fulfilled”, she continued with a small sigh and he noticed, as she lifted her gaze once again to face him, that one single tear had emerged from her eyes.

“Is it truly selfish to want to feel alive for once…? After being so very selfless all the time?”

Her voice trembled with the last questions, making him ponder if they were rhetoric or not. In the very end he was not even certain of whom she spoke. His second hand, yet free from her touch, slowly lifted to meet the warm skin of her cheeks, swiping away the tear with his calloused thumb. G’raha felt her reacting to his touch, barely noticeably even, ere she leaned into the warmth he offered.

“Mayhap not”, he answered in a rather husky tone, ignoring the yearning of his own body and the loud, desperate clutch of his very own soul.

“Then you shall know… I love you too, G’raha.” Albeit her voice had scarcely been more than a whisper to his ears, suffocating in some more tear drops to flow down her cheeks, he felt their meaning with every fiber of his body. It was not before she lifted her hand to gently rub over his own cheeks that he noticed that he had shared in her sentimentality.

For he realized that the woe, the deep sadness he saw inside her mint colored shades for the past moments were not product of her kindness but rather her feelings for him. Such sight made him to finally channel the strength needed to let go. To let go of the very burden he still desperately held onto; the very past in which he had merely chased after his very own death and desperation for all these long years. For the childhood in which he had believed to be cursed, to be condemned.

One past filled with dreams and hopes to believe in a future in which others might find happiness, albeit not himself.

“So perchance, just for once, mayhap just even for this moment - can we not forget and live, breathe? The world will not end, solely for us being happy for only one day. And the others can certainly wait, too.”

“Agreed”, the man mumbled, quickly leaning in to seal her lips with his very own, lest she spoke more than she already had. Truthfully, he was no longer certain if he could bear to wait any longer. Not after waiting more than an entire lifetime for her already, to finally feel her faint touch.

Her sweet, flowery scent filled his nose, sweeping through his entire body like an untamed wave – evoking all of his usually hidden emotions for her. Lips so perfectly shaped and soft moved against his very own in an almost painful slow rhythm, ere he his tongue slightly tickled them, yearning to taste her, to memorize all of her entire being. Immediately he felt her slim arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer as she slightly parted her full lips to give him entry.

None of it was like he had imagined; it was far better than the finest dream he ever had.

________________________

[ END OF PART ONE – Part Two will contain smut! ]

________________________

Sidenotes: I am following my headcanon that – because he is an allrounder and can fit into all roles – he is picking the most fitting role for the Warrior of Light (despite seen with his staff in the cutscenes).

In this case, since the Warrior of Light is a Summoner – which I still daresay should be the most powerful role according to the given canon information – he prefers to become her sword and shield. All of this is, of course, accordingly written to my own headcanons & portrayal and might not fit with other’s. 

[phykios]

the marble king, part 3 [part 1] [part 2] [read on ao3]

Troy, 1453

“No.”

“Perseus.”

“No!”

“Then I shall go without you.”

“Then I wish you luck on finding safe passage.”

She glared at him, and he returned her gaze in full force. “You know it to be the most strategic action to take.”

“Were you not the one who told me in the first place, that the despotes were incompetent fools?”

“They are.” She shifted on her lackluster cushioning before their campfire, the place where the great brazier of Chiron’s agoge had once stood.

The journey to Sigeion had taken them merely a day, thanks entirely to Percy and his skills at navigation. Annabeth had been somewhat less than helpful, choosing to spend the bulk of the voyage sulking at the back of their craft, rather than assisting him, though of course, he did not need it. After night and the city had fallen in its entirety, the two had resolved to seek out the centaur Chiron in order to tell him the news, and to ask his guidance on what to do, yet when they arrived on the shores of that familiar site, to their dismay, the camp had entirely vanished. 

Where once had been a small but thriving little town, now there lay naught but sand and stone. This safe, sacred place for demigods, built in the shadow and memory of Ilion, was gone, with no indication of where, when, or how. Gone were the vast vineyards and olive orchards which had fed and watered them; gone were the horsetrack and the amphitheater wherein they had honed their skills; gone were the temples and monuments, the Big House and all the little villas where he had worked and eaten and laughed with his friends and companions.

Aeneas had left a burning city behind him, his son in hand and his father on his back, but there was nothing here save for untouched earth and windworn stone. 

There had been a fountain in the villa set aside for Poseidon’s children, a gift from an absent father who thought to forge a stronger bond with his only child in decades, one that Percy had hoped to use, but that was gone as well, as was the great stockpile of weapons and armor and ambrosia. Nothing of the home they had once known remained. 

They had, Percy and Annabeth, agreed to take their rest in the place where camp had once stood for three days, in order to rest, recover, and plan their next course of action. Annabeth, always thinking several steps ahead, had recalled a hidden cache of supplies further inland, and had gone to fetch them while Percy made use of his skills and prepared them their dinners and their sacrifices. Of course, as one might expect, their proposed plans were quite at odds, and their tentative alliance had met its very first obstacle.

Staring into the fire, Annabeth drew patterns in the earth with the burned point of her stick--be they battle plans or rude words, Percy could not tell from his vantage point across from her. “Understand me well, Perseus, this is not a strategy I enjoy.”

“Then let us travel North,” he said, “to Aachen.”

Scowling, she threw the stick into the fire.

“We need to get word of this attack to the Twelfth Legion.”

“To Tartarus with the Twelfth Legion.”

“They are good people,” he pointed out, “and what is more, they have the fighting force we need.”

“The Latins have had Constantinople beneath their boot for the last two hundred years, and now you want to go crawling back to them and beg for their help?” Lifting her chin, she pierced him with her gaze from across the fire, furious and arresting. “Do you forget your history so easily?”

“As you said, it has been two hundred years.” The insult dealt by the Twelfth Legion in the form of the Fourth Crusade, he knew, was a particular point of contention for her, but, to Percy’s mind, there was no point in dwelling on it, for no man alive today could remember the events of such a far-off past. What was more, he knew the Legion personally, had even fought with them, a fact which Annabeth had, apparently, never forgiven him for. “I can send a message to Iason, or Franko--”

She scoffed. “As if the Legion would ever deign to assist a pair of wayward Hellenes. They would do what all Latins do, force their practices and their laws upon those who cannot fight back. Look at what they have done to you!” she said, gesturing to his arm, where the mark of the empire had been branded into his skin.

Despite his best attempts, he found himself bristling, rising to her challenge. “The Legion is the only place left for demigods now.”

“No,” she shook her head, “The agoge can’t have--it can’t have just vanished into thin air. Chiron is out there, somewhere, with all of our siblings and friends.”

“And you would disrespect them by throwing in your lot with the Christian kings of the Morea? Men you do not even respect?”

In fury, she rose from her seat, fists clenched. “For all that the despotes lack, they have one trait that deserves our support: their name. The Romans will rally round Thomas, and if not him, then Demetrios will serve our purposes equally as well.”

He narrowed his eyes. A woman of many plans was this Annabeth Fredriksdotter, and he knew her well enough to know that this barely scratched the surface of what she had in store. He knew her to be a woman of great ambition, as he had witnessed many times over the years, and one whose military mind was quite unmatched. She took great pride in her plans, and in the sharing of them; even in such a difficult situation as this, surely she had something more than simply making their case to the guards at the Hexamilion wall and hoping for the best. 

“You know that they will not listen to you.”

“Then I will make them listen.”

Percy had no doubt that she could, one way or another. But something about the way she spoke gave him pause. How would a woman such as her endeavor to get a man like Thomas Palaiologos to listen to her? What great women often must do to get great men to listen to them, he supposed. “You plan on entering yourself into marriage with one of them.”

Rounding out her jaw, she sat back down, arms crossed. “And what of it?”

“You think you can compel Thomas to try his hand against the Turks.”

“Theodora once did the same for her husband,” she said, “and from her efforts the riots of Nika were quelled.”

“Wives can work many miracles indeed,” said Percy, “I do not argue that point,” though he wished he had a reason to. For some odd reason, the idea of Annabeth wed set his blood pulsing in ways he did not understand.

“Well If I must be married to a Christian, let him be one I can use.”

His heart pounded in his chest, his tongue numb in his mouth. Annabeth wed to a Christian--he nearly snarled at the thought. “Then shall I call you empress already?”

She blushed, visible even in the firelight. “Stop it.”

“I am merely giving you the respect that you seem to believe you deserve, Basileia,” he sneered. He did not know from where this anger had come, harsh words tripping off his tongue before he could stop them. “Does her imperial majesty Ana Zabeta bring a great dowry into her marriage beyond her military strategy and her plan to manipulate her husband?”

“I said, stop it.”

Percy had been preparing a jab at her future sons, heirs to a measly handful of rocks and ancient gold coins, when he looked at her--truly, looked at her.

He had never known her to be anything less than intimidating. Even as children, she would not hesitate to push him around, a challenge he had welcomed and met with equal parts animosity and laughter. Their constant bickering had been legendary, and not just because of their respective divine parentages. It seemed that the two of them could not bear to spend more than thirty minutes in each other’s presences without devolving into some useless debate which served no purpose but to whet their appetites on the rivalry which had stretched all the way from the contest of Athens. For all his posturing and complaining, it was not a relationship that he hated. In fact, he would go so far as to say that, after some time, he had come to enjoy her presence in his life, despite the vitriol and insults that they slung at each other. On any other night, he would have continued to push her, because he could, because that was their practice with each other. 

Tonight, however, she shivered in the cool breeze despite the heart of the fire, pulling her shawl about her. Her perfect posture slumped, and even the perfect curls of her hair seemed deflated, falling limply down her shoulders and back, a far, far cry from the careful manner in which she arranged it. Her face, burnt and peeling from the sun, was hardened, yet the cracks in the surface were easily distinguished the longer he looked at her. 

He sighed, shrugging off his own coat, before standing and going to her, wrapping it around her shoulders. “I apologize,” he said. “I did not mean to upset you.”

Even looking at her now, shivering and slumped and just this side of defeated, in his heart of hearts he knew that she would make a fine empress. No man could turn down her proposal, and should the Palaiologai refuse, then they deserved whatever fate was coming to them.

Rather than refuse, she drew his coat around her as well, in a manner so unlike her. 

“It is alright,” she said. “I take no offense.”

Theirs was an acquaintanceship long and storied, but one which would not survive this new and strange world, should they keep to their ancient ways. “I do not wish to fight with you anymore,” he said, and to his great surprise, he meant it. 

“Nor I you,” said she, softly. “Please, sit with me here.”

 He blinked, stunned, as though another cannonball had just struck the ground near his feet.

“It’s not a trick,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Sit. I am cold.”

Stiffly, he lowered himself to sit next to her, perched on the edge of her rock. Annabeth was most skilled at close quarters combat, he recalled, and she could, most likely, kill him sitting down as well. But threaten him she did not, instead, she merely scooted closer to him, extending one arm of the large cloak so that they could share.

And, well, it was a cold night.

They sat, huddled together before the campfire, as the smoke carried the sparks towards the heavens. After some time, she laid her head upon his shoulder, her hair so soft against his bare skin, and he thought he could feel her heartbeat against his side, as furious as a war drum--or perhaps that was his own. “I, too, am sorry,” she said, with no trace of malice. “You were correct.”

“Annabeth, admitting she was wrong? The world truly is ending,” he teased, then froze at his inappropriate jest.

Still, she laughed, huffing a breath and jostling him with an elbow. “About the Palaiologai, I mean.” Sighing, she ran a corner of his cloak through her fingers, picking at the loose thread there. “The despotes really are incompetent fools who have run their territory into the ground all in the name of foolish fraternal in-fighting, and no man in his right mind should follow either one of them into battle. If the princess Zoe were older, perhaps, she could be the figurehead that we need, but I don’t believe that would be a moral course of action.”

“I agree,” said Percy. “Let us leave the poor girl out of this.” The porphyrogenita was merely four years old, younger than his own dear sister; he shuddered to think of someone so young drawn into a conflict like this. And yet, of course, she was a girl--no doubt the Catholics would have some nefarious purpose in mind for her when she came of age. He thought again of marriage, that damnable contract, and his face grew hot. 

“I just…” 

Percy did not think it were possible, but Annabeth moved herself even closer into his one-armed embrace at the sudden gust of wind, dark and chill, as their campfire wavered threateningly. She must have bathed herself in the sea earlier, he thought, as her hair smelt of salt, and smoke from their fire, her curls tossed wildly by the waves and the wind, an altogether not unpleasant scent. 

Then, so softly, so quietly as though he thought he might have dreamt it, he heard her whisper, “I just cannot believe that they’re gone.”

The case of the missing camp was peculiar indeed, and Percy was somewhat ashamed at how few thoughts he had spent on his vanished friends. He could only handle a single calamity at any given time. Annabeth, he knew though, had run away from her home far in the North when she had been a young girl, and had spent much of her childhood on these very shores, with all of her siblings and friends surrounding her. No doubt she was worrying herself sick over their whereabouts and their health. “Wherever they are,” he tried to assure, “I am sure Chiron is taking good care of them. Perhaps they are even searching for us, and this may be the first place they seek.”

“No,” she shook her head, which only served to slot herself further against his side, and Percy tried very very hard not to shiver at the press of her warm body against his, “I do not mean our fellow demigods.”

“Then of whom do you speak?”

She lifted her head then, looking at him incredulously. “The gods, Perseus.”

He frowned. “Annabeth, I saw them--”

“I know that you believe you witnessed something, but it can’t have been what you thought. It simply can’t.” 

“Rachael witnessed it as well,” he pointed out, “and you know that she has a clearer sight than either of us.”

But she would not hear him. “I wish to go to Athens.”

“Athens? Annabeth, that is nearly as dangerous as the Morea--”

“I must go to the Acropolis,” she insisted, eyes wild as though some madness had possessed her. “My mother will be there, I can feel it. And when I get there, I will make a sacrifice in that horrible building for which they cannibalized the mighty Parthenon, and there she will speak with me.”

Truly, a part of him envied her faith. There had been a time when he had had the same enduring faith in his own father, in the power of the gods and in their enduring legacy--that the very same siege which had broken his faith so surely had not even shaken hers was nothing short of miraculous. 

“I wish I felt the same as you,” he told her, “but I cannot let you go to Athens alone.”

“You should come with me, for perhaps you may be able to speak to your father there as well.”

The warmth of the fire deserted him, as if it had been snuffed out, and even Annabeth’s body no longer provided him comfort. Jaw clenching, he turned his face away from the sea, away from the sweet scent of her hair, glaring off into the black night. “He will not be there.”

“Well you yourself said that we could not attempt the Isthmus of Corinth; therefore, by that logic, Athens would be the next place to go. You know as well as I do how the Athenians venerated your father, despite him losing the contest. If you go to the Erechtheion, perhaps he may come to you--”

“He will not,” said Percy. Along the shore, the waves thrashed against the sand, striking stone and splitting earth.

“How do you know he will not? Are you so certain that our families have abandoned us that you will not even attempt to reach out to them?”

“I know because I have already tried.” Without the proximity of her body, he felt the night chill ever more keenly, and he wrapped his arms around himself in a vain attempt to warm himself even as his half of the cloak fell off his shoulder. Let her have the whole of it, then, he thought. The cold only reminded him more of his resolve.

“When on Earth did you have time to go all the way to Athens?”

“Not Athens,” he said, staring at the grains of scorched sand at his feet. “Thera.”

Her eyes widened. “Santorini? That’s even further!”

“I caught a current.”

“And you lecture me about waltzing into danger.”

“Well, Annabeth, when you somehow learn to breathe underwater, please do tell me, so I can take you on all manner of thrilling excursions.”

She glared, crossing her arms. “Oh, I apologize, my lord, for we cannot all be blessed with partial divinity. Some of us are relegated to our pathetic mortal talents.”

“No, it is I who must apologize, your imperial majesty,” he snipped, “for those born without your dazzling intellect and your natural talents must then rely on our divine gifts in order to even the score.”

It felt wrong, to say things he privately believed in such cruel tones. She furrowed her brow, unsure how to respond to his taunts.

“But it matters not,” he said, before he let slip any more inconvenient truths that he carried. “I used my blessing to stay beneath the waves--neither the Venetians nor the Ottomans ever saw me.”

“And did you find it? Your father’s palace?”

As a boy, Percy had often dreamed of visiting his father’s palace. Most days, it was enough to know that his father was alive even, after a lifetime of questions and insults and uncertainty, let alone that he was a god. Yet still, he dreamt of seeing it for himself, of disappearing into the deep blue water, of following the currents into the heart of the ocean, a map that only the children of the sea could read, and arriving at the gates of his father’s home, of their ancestral seat of power, and one fine day, his patience was rewarded. He would never, as long as he lived, forget the sight of the sea god’s court as it unfolded before him: the grand buildings, the walls encrusted with pearls, the abalone floors, and above it all, the great golden dome which reflected the light as it filtered through the water, as though the sun itself rested beneath the waves. 

There were few sights as beautiful, and few places he had ever loved as much, for the court of Poseidon had, after the war, welcomed its wayward son with open arms. Perseus of Constantinople, he was nothing but a penniless soldier with a knack for fishing; Perseus, son of Poseidon, was a hero and a prince of the highest order. He had been honored with a great feast at the palace, and had danced and made merry with many beautiful nymphs and nereids, had drank with his father and felt his gentle, fond approval, like a hand upon his brow. His mother loved him without abandon, his friends at camp were as fast as any man could hope for, but there had always been something in him which longed for the sea, something which had only been satisfied far beneath the surface. 

“Yes,” he said. “I found it.” It was in the same place as it always had been, that grand building, the great court of the Aegean. “It was deserted. As much a ruin as Troy.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she said. 

He had never once known the palace to be empty, not even during wartime. There had always been sea creatures out and about, minor gods, nymphs, naiads, even simple schools of fish, darting hither and thither in their ancient roadways. But as he swam about the coral halls, the cracked columns encrusted over with barnacles, he found them not just devoid of people, but of power, of the very memories of joy and laughter and light, the softly glowing fields of algae like ghosts in the cloudy deep.

“Thank you,” said Percy. 

What an odd pair they made, the two of them. As different as they were, as bitter as they could be to each other, however, he knew that they were, in fact, more similar than some would have guessed. He knew that she much shared his determination and his drive, his stubbornness and grit, and the need to know and understand on one’s own terms, so he was not at all surprised when she then said, “But I have to see it for myself. I will not be able to rest until I have tried.”

“I understand.” For he did, and he knew her well enough to know that there was very little which could change her mind once she had set herself to a course of action. “Tonight, we shall rest. Tomorrow, we set sail for Athens.”

She smiled at him then, soft and trembling, and it was as though the heat of the fire grew warmer. “Thank you, Percy.”

“But let it be known,” he said, “that I do not approve of this plan.”

“You will regret those words after I have spoken to my mother,” she said, putting on haughty airs in order to, he supposed, counteract the weakness she had just shown to him. 

“I pray that I do.” He knew, deep within him, that she would not find what she sought in Athens, but he simply could not bring himself to fight with her further. Let her find her despair on her own. When she fell, he would be there to catch her, and then they could forge a new course of action together, and stronger for it.

Something in the stars above drew her attention, for she lifted her face to the heavens. In the light of the fire, he could see the long, graceful column of her neck, the flickering shadows playing against the pale expanse of her skin, and he looked away. It would not do to look upon an empress as such, nor a woman who may very well soon be married. “I shall take the first watch,” said she. “Rest, now. I will wake you when it is your turn.”

“As you wish, your majesty,” he muttered, turning away, though his heart thumped in his chest as he watched her fight off a smile.

[yetremains]

Speaking of supernatural, imagine Commander Hasashi passing and showing up in front of Operative Yang as the spectre. What would be Yang's reaction, if he revealed himself as 1) Scorpion as we know (in OG timeline), 2) Scorpion's Revenge Scorpion (less evil, more misguided), and 3) an intangible ghost in her nightmare?

1) Scorpion as we know (in OG timeline) (( Oh ho now this one would hit hard and horrify her. ))

It had been a lack in forewarning for anything even remotely amiss as the old warrior walked her way through some old ruins. A calm and melancholy air hanging about her form as she wandered through memory and physicality alike. The over grown plants, vines, and moss, meant little when she could remember exactly where a street once had been. Or a side walk there. A city fallen so very long ago. Despite this it was as if the memory could still be fresh within the mind. Sounds of people lingering within the back of the brain, foot steps, familiar warmth at one side- Wait, warmth? 

Yang tensed up, as suddenly there was a rush of fire, the woman diving backwards quickly to avoid being seared by mere seconds. Her form recovering swiftly into a low defensive stance once well trained to remember, now perfected. Eyes hardened with determination as she waited to see what may come of this. However, what her hazel eyes were to see made that self protective stance shatter and falter while her expression fell, eyes wide with confusion. 

“Commander...?” The horror lacing her voice was heavy. Fear as to why he had been reanimated, or why he may be here. There was a multitude of terrible reasons or out comes this could have spawned from and even worse that could lead too. Her blood running cold, and stance entirely dropped. Were he to take an attack, Yang wouldn’t be prepared. “No, no-- this.. This shouldn’t be happening- I buried you- you don’t deserve this!”

2) Scorpion's Revenge Scorpion (less evil, more misguided) (( this one is heartbreaking and would be begging him. ))

There hadn’t been much of a chance to recover from a surprise encounter within a strange cavern that had Yang accosted by a group of hired assassins, one of which had been a man in yellows and blacks. What gave him away was the mastery over the chain like weapon and fire, forcing the old soldier to recalculate her combat style. But now the two were the only remaining contenders. Circled in the dark cavern only illuminated by moonlight shining from a hole in the ceiling above. Giving everything within an eerie glow. It was the perfect cold light setting for how chilled she had felt down too the very bone. Her heart wrenching painfully within bruised ribs while a knot tightened against her lungs as if threatening to suffocate the lone warrior. “Scorpion.”

It was her who slowly lowered her stance first, a pleading tone. “Hanzo Hasashi, please, this isn’t you, I know it. You’re better than this.” The woman never blinked or took her eyes off Scorpion, she had never been a fool. Only became sharper over the years. Her hands slowly releasing from prepared fists, forcing the knuckles to crack from the movement. If the opponent wished to strike he could, and Yang would take the hit willingly if she must. How much the old soldier wanted to scream at the sky and curse what ever demon had risen this man from the dead.

 “I’m not going to fight you. It’s me, it’s... It’s Talia Jones. Operative Yang.” Her form remained calm as she stepped more into the moon light. Defenseless. She could see it in his eyes, shadowed as they were. He wasn’t a mindless undead. He had spirit, he was in there, somewhere. The man behind just who Scorpion was. “What has happened to you? Who did this?”

3) an intangible ghost in her nightmare? (( now this is something I actively think about. ))

Nightmares were not uncommon for the survivor. Or of any survivor really. Untreated PTSD and lacking connections for many years to bottle up the memories and pain had become a second nature, layering the mind curled into it’s slumber with a second skin. In an attempt to keep it’s self together against the ever raging storms that tore apart the psyche if left unchecked. Threatening to leave the one left behind hollow and broken. As the nightmares of being left alone as the last one standing upon a battlefield rattled in her skull. Memories of dragging herself from ruins and up a destroyed coast line. Dead scattered in every direction. 

This was different, while her broken body stumbled across the landscape, there had been another. A spectre that came into her vision. And forced everything to feel frigid and burning all at once. A body bloodied and angered, eyes white gold, fire in his hands. Staring her down with impossible to read emotions. Anger? Resentment? Disappointment? These were the first thoughts she could think of hat it may be. Regret plunged it’s weight deep into her shaking soul while the dagger of sorrow twisted it’s self between her ribs to draw fresh pain from her heart. 

He moved closer and Yang couldn’t move. “There was nothing I could do, I tried. I tried. It wasn’t enough, never enough, ever enough.” Her voice was quiet, a wheeze. Tears falling from her face. And the closer this ghost of the past got, the more dead he looked. Rotting sections, bones showing. Flames eating up every inch it could and still there could be no escape. Yang could swear she heard whispers of how she’d failed. How everything was for naught. How many voices were screaming around her now. It was impossible to tell. Then the ghost of Scorpion lunged at her, head becoming a full skull and flaming, as if shouting to try and draw her full attention-

Yang snapped awake with a scream of terror as she shot straight up from where she’d been sleeping. The sound echoing in every direction as she had camped outside next too her bike in the middle of the mountains. Somewhere far away from everything. Trying to escape for a while. But there would be no escape from ones self. Still breathing heavily, the woman lunged up and onto her bike. Slammed the engines on and took off, even while tears of the nightmare kept their place on her face. 

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 22: The Soldier

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

He would do anything for Her. She is his Goddess, his Maker. And he is Her Soldier.

[READ IT ON AO3]

He has done everything She has ever asked of him — everything but this. No matter Her insistence, or the pain that came from the disapproval She never voiced but he no less felt. And he was right. All these years… he was right never to trust the former prince.

“What madness is this, Xenocrates?”

“This is not madness brother,” Xenocrates reaches out and clasps his hands over Gaius’ in an unfounded display; concern, imploring — a yearning to be heard and understood hidden for decades now finally free, “but the opposite. This is sanity; and I gift it to you with all of my being. For lifetimes we have stood by Her, duty-bound at Her side. But the rights and wrongs of the world are not made by duty.

“They are not made by Rheya.”

Gaius pulls away in haste; already several long paces back before he even realizes his body has carried him as far as his emotions would demand. When given measure — even he finds himself surprised at the enormity of them.

“Wherever you intend to go with this—this heresy of yours, Xenocrates, I would hear no more of it.”

They both hear it; the waver in his tone. They both see it; the hesitant flick of his eyes right to left to right again as though She will sense this new and vile emotion welling forth from him and swiftly descend to snuff it out.

For out of any in Her kingdom, none should be more loyal than they. The First and Second Sons — the chosen lucky enough to be fashioned for eternity by the Goddess Rheya Herself. Yet there he stands, the prince of nothing, as if to defy the laws of Her Gracious Benevolence by simply existing.

But it seems Xenocrates has taken it upon himself to take a page out of Gaius’ own petulant book this night. He won’t back down. “I fear the time for ignorance has passed, even for you. Can you truly look me in the eyes and tell me you have never once questioned Her; even in the smallest of ways?”

“I would never.” I understand the meaning of devotion.

Xenocrates shakes his head. “I do not believe you.”

“What you believe is not my concern,” Gaius snaps in reply, “since it is with growing clarity that I wonder what you believe in at all. If not our Goddess, then what?”

And why do I care? He doesn’t, Gaius reasons in his mind, and knows it to be true. But the very existence of this doubt unsettles him; not just as one devoted to Her, but as Her protector — Her soldier. If Xenocrates of all people could be swayed to false beliefs…

The First Son turns his head slightly, his features cast in profile against the exposed ceiling and the moonlight filtering down unto the pair of brothers. Half to Gaius, half to the Tree.

“I wish I could give you the answer you seek Gaius, truly I do. But just as the world is painted in shades, so are the lines between right and wrong blurred at the edges. I believe, now, in many things. And have an equal lack of faith in everything I once thought to be certain.

“Rheya has brought upon the world a new power; a new dynasty. One that I once thought was the answer for all the problems that my father and those like him had created. But I can no longer lie. Not to you, not to Her… and not to myself.” Their kind — the immortal children of the Goddess Rheya — are as still as they are immutable. So to see Xenocrates’ lower lip trembling with the weight of his words is more than a surprise for Gaius. It is a new experience.

One he would rather have spent eternity ignorant of. “Were I you, brother,” how he practically spits the word with the strangeness of this talk, “I would guard my tongue. Our Goddess has been nothing but generous from the moment She ascended. None else were blessed enough to share in Her gift as we were.”

A true politician; the true extent of his caution may as well be painted across Xenocrates’ face.

“Do you truly think this life to be a gift?”

Surprise; indignation; outrage flit across his face scarred long before he was destined to meet Her. “How can you ask such a thing?” Gaius’ voice cracks as he asks. “Of course it is a gift! True and untapped godhood flows through our veins!”

“At the cost of the veins of others.”

He scoffs. “A small price to never age; to never die. Incomparable to the promise She has given us to see Her kingdom through.”

“Her power is unquestionable, Gaius.”

“Finally, something out of your mouth that doesn’t border blasphemy.”

“But that only ensures the threat of it is unquestionable too.”

Mortals have lived and died in lifetimes since the last time Gaius felt the bitter nip of winter winds or the choking heat of summer twilights. Yet here he stands with a shiver down his spine; sweat plastering his linen tunic damp down his back.

No longer is this the time for careful warnings.

“The only ones threatened by Her are those who would defy Her. The ones resistant to the future She will bring. And make no mistake, Xenocrates,” words lisping around extending fangs, “Her future will be seen done. And at the hour of victory those loyal to Her will not go unrewarded.”

The brothers in blood lock eyes. Holding one another’s gaze; determination to read the intentions of the other quickly mutating into something sickening; desperate. Xenocrates finally crumples under the pressure of it and turns his head away as if in pain. Proof all the more that Gaius, Her loyal soldier, follows the right path.

“Loyalty cannot only be this,” the elder murmurs; but to their ears his voice rings crisp like theatre, “there must be ways to prove it other than mindless obedience and the willingness to slaughter Her enemies.”

“You would rather they live? Only to strike us down another day?!”

“I would rather live a life without a dagger in hand waiting for the next zealot to catch me unawares!”

“Snuff out the dissenters and you won’t have to!”

Fists come to clench at his sides; then Xenocrates speaks clear and strong — not that conviction makes his words any less treacherous.

“A kingdom forged of the blood and bones of all who would oppose you is the kingdom of a tyrant!”

All around them, the world itself protests. Gusts of wind rage like rapids against the tomb’s old chambers, the seasons cower below their feet for safer times. Even the Tree of Eternal Life, as unyielding as its title suggests, seems to let its topmost branches sway in a ritual dance. A herald of dark times.

After everything… this is where he stands. Spared by Her, respected by Her — all efforts made wasted.

“How easily you waste Her mercy,” spits Gaius finally; the bite of venom sharp on his fangs, “proof you were never worthy of it to begin with.”

Dark eyes widen, aghast. “You think what Rheya did to the world was merciful?”

“Compared to what was done unto Her… our Goddess was in every right to burn the world and raise Her kingdom from the ashes! But instead She offered the willing the chance to take part in a new age by Her side!”

“Surely you play at this naïvete! How many innocents have you alone slaughtered in Her name, Gaius?!”

“I regret not counting you among them! Traitor!”

Gaius lunges forward with a furious cry and an avenging fury. He swiftly pries his sword free from his hip and sends it down as merciless as their Goddess should have been to begin with; a fire in his eyes only made tame with the intent to kill. In Her name.

They have each served Her in their own way; Gaius with his strong and passionate hand and Xenocrates with his honeyed words — words Gaius now knows to be nothing but lies. But if it were as easy as the swing of a single sword they would be naught but a mockery to Her name; to Her blood.

Xenocrates’ hand is soft from his mortal life of luxury as it flies palm-up to stop the blade with brute strength. Something about the reminder of who they were, of how little they meant before She came into their lives and gave them Her gift, only hardens Gaius in his resolve. He presses all of his weight down his sword’s iron grip; tries to force the weaker metal through the bones of the traitor son’s hand through sheer force of will. But even as blood runs in thin rivers down the raised forearm only to fall in waste to the ground between them; the First Son proves himself deserving of the title.

Gaius gives a silent vow to strip him of it down to the bone.

“Gaius—brother—please stop—It should not be this way!”

No it should not. “You stand in blatant defiance to our Goddess—and seek to tell me how things should be?!” Every word louder than the last, every swing harder than the one before it. Blood red almost black under the moon seeping into the fabric of his himation to mark him for his sins; for the crime of even so much as thinking against Her.

Even before Gaius was made stronger than any blade forged by mortal man, he knew the pain of his own sword well. The former King had been a cruel and ambitious man — what he had done to Rheya was proof enough of that. But he had only demanded the best of his army; of those like Gaius who had nothing but the armor on their shoulders and the sword in their hands. How else was he to know the limits of the enemy when he did not know the limits of himself?

But no more; he had more than that now. He had his immortality, he had his Goddess; he had his faith in Her. Armor was no better than a costume compared to the strength of his natural hide. But there are worse things than death — his life as a soldier taught him that, too. So Gaius knows when to slice shallow into his skin and when to pierce deep in muscle. Xenocrates will heal; in time.

Time enough to be punished by the one he truly wronged. By Rheya Herself.

And until then Gaius continues, his false brother’s blood staining his bared teeth; in hot flecks on his cheeks and matting in his hair so affectionately touched by Her graceful hands. Because Xenocrates deserves it for everything he has said and for all the things left in the air between them. He is Her Soldier, and he will not let those words dare to be spoken.

“She gave you everything!” He thrusts the word deep in the other man’s abdomen; twisting both edges of his sword while blood flows faster than any mortal could survive. A thin red stream trickles from Xenocrates’ lips; teeth stained red and grinding together to keep his composure.

This close, though, Gaius leaves himself exposed. Worth it now and a hundred times over to feel the crunch and yield of lower ribs cracking and insides shifting as Xenocrates is forced to hold every steel inch of the soldier’s hatred inside.

“Enough… of this… Augustine!” Scarlet eyes with pupils narrowed into slits snap up and meet Gaius’ head on. The very sight swells a new anger inside — which is exactly what the former prince wants. Distracted by the intensity of his own everything, he unwittingly gives the First Son the sliver of a chance he needs to reach down and separate soldier from sword with a snap.

He abandons the blade inside his enemy with a howl of pain. Staggering back, snarling through eyes blurry with tears while his free hand slowly begins to push the white shock of broken bone protruding from his forearm back where it belongs.

Xenocrates the wise; Xenocrates the advisor. Xenocrates with the pale hands that shake too violent for his bloody palms to pry the sword from his belly. The very sight is enough for Gaius to sneer in satisfaction; the only thing that gets him through the agony of his bones forcing themselves back together under muscle tissue. Like this they are on equal footing — until one takes in hand all those times that pompous human life kept him from enjoying the rich rewards of the hunt and kill.

The only thing their Goddess could not snuff out of him; his aversion to the hunger.

With one last pained noise the sword falls heavy to the ground at Xenocrates’ feet. Slick blood coaxing the dirt to cling to the blade from hilt to point as if he couldn’t sully the things Gaius holds sacred enough.

He staggers; finds purchase against the closest stone column with such force it groans in protest and makes grit fall down from the ceiling mooring. But the sand is just another thing to cling to Xenocrates’ forehead, with his dark curls unkempt and temples shining with exertion. He is the enemy, and even the lowest rank of soldiers would see him and know he is defeated.

So why does he not yield?!

“Enoug—’gustine…” his words repeated choked and bloody, “just… enough.”

“Indeed, my Prince. I believe I have seen… more than enough.”

Silent tears stream down Gaius cheeks. In Her presence his pain is given purpose. At Her touch he feels more than the strength to continue on — he feels the will to do so at Her guiding hand. And when Her Soldier cranes his neck far enough to snap, the sight of Her speaks volumes to him that he already knew.

She is his Goddess, and She is worth it. All of it. Everything. Over and over again from now until the end of time.

The humble nature of his Goddess always leaves Gaius in awe. She emerged from the depths of the tombs reborn and renewed, and with Her bare feet leaving dusty prints on the former King’s polished floors in Her wake. Dust soon turned to blood; long sweeping trails of crimson that followed Her like a holy procession. Rheya took the sacrifices She was owed in abundance. As was Her right.

And even now; gliding forward with silent steps, the familiar bright white hem of Her gown coming into view. Before he can cast aside his doubts and pains for Her, She offers him an extended hand instead. Long fingers curled just so; coaxing him forward for Her — to Her.

Gaius takes Her hand in his and finds the will to stand. “My brave Soldier…” She croons, fingertips like silk tracing along patches of braised skin. In Her touch he feels it; the lifeblood thrumming in his veins, called to the surface of his flesh and compelled by Her to do the bidding of the Goddess. To heal him; to bring him back to Her side as swift as Zephyr himself.

She is all he sees. And he holds Her gaze for his own, selfishly taking everything She has to offer. He grasps Rheya’s upper arms as tight as he can and knows with some measure of claiming that She will never bruise. She’s too perfect.

The back of Rheya’s hand slides soft along the curves of Gaius’ jaw. Wordless, nameless nothings sweetly lilted on Her lips. “You fight with passion, Gaius. Strong, unyielding; unwavering. I could not ask for anything more.

“Ask it,” he rasps, “and I will give you everything and more.” His words bring a glint of satisfaction to Her eyes. He needs nothing more.

“I know you will.”

If only this moment could last forever. If only. But distant shuffling catches their ears and Gaius is forced to watch, forlorn, as his Goddess steels Herself to deal with the matter at hand. He turns his face towards Her touch in the breath before Her fingertips leave him; a tasteless kiss with pale lips before She is in a place he will never be able to reach — let alone understand.

Rheya crosses the central chamber of the tomb cool and calculating; watching Her First Son as though through the sheer curtain of a waterfall — distant; removed.

“Always a creature of dignity… my little Prince,” mockery blunt on Her tongue like a bludgeon, “but how far has it gotten you?” Her eyes trail up to the base of the Eternal Tree; how he falls just short of it. “Never far enough.”

Xenocrates looks between Rheya and Gaius. “You… followed me here?” And the thought amuses Her enough to let him live beyond that moment.

“From the moment you accepted my gift, Xenocrates, your blood became my blood. You are nothing more than a part of me that reaches beyond the limits of the flesh…” Even still, Her serenity is marred with even the slightest furrow of Her brow.

“Yet here you are; a part of me… and not. How did you mask your will from my sight?”

For the first and only time that night, the man’s diplomatic persona slips. Baring a grimace of bloody teeth up at Her.

“No god is infallible. Not even you.”

“… We shall see.”

Rheya takes one step forward and, to his credit, Xenocrates manages to keep himself from recoiling violently. Eyes squeezed shut; awaiting Her retribution and wrath. But it doesn’t come.

Like a shadow over the moon Rheya passes him with little concern; Her focus drawn to the Eternal Tree towering over them all. Even from a distance Gaius can feel the power radiating from its petrified limbs — power that grows stronger the closer his Goddess gets. It calls out to Her — it yearns for Her. Power recognizing power.

She hovers a touch just shy of the tree trunk as if under a spell of Her own. “I knew from the moment I entrusted the knowledge of the Tree to you that eventually the temptation would be too much to resist. You are men, after all. And what are men if not weak in the presence of true and unbridled power?

“It was only a matter of understanding you enough to know who would succumb first.”

Rheya presses Her palm against the Tree. Bark biting into Her palm like the teasing nip of a lover. All the power coalescing around them comes together in that moment, in that touch; energy so thick they can taste it on their tongues sweet like rich blood and wine.

“‘Who would it be,’ I asked myself,” she continues, “my Soldier… or my Prince? The compassionate soul so desperate for my approval that he would seek to walk at my side rather than kneel before my throne? Or the young man once promised the world I had taken for mine own; no longer content with my benevolence when tempted with forbidden fruit?”

But even the sweet honey of Her voice is not enough to hide the bitter poison of Her words. Gaius staggers slightly, unseen at Her back. Pain crumpling his pride under Her heel.

“My Goddess —” choking on his own voice, “— I would never —”

Rheya silences him with a simple twitch of Her free hand. “I know, Gaius. You have proven yourself beyond mere fealty. As your faith carries you to my side, my faith carried me here — to the Tree. Everything had been ripped from me in one swift moment; my dignity, my identity, my personhood. But no matter how hard he tried, Kaelsius could never take away my belief in my gods.

“And for my suffering I was rewarded beyond all others.” In a flash Her touch hardens; the open-palm caress digging nails against the skin of the Tree as a claim. “Me, and me alone.”

Echoing silence follows. Rheya’s back turned away from them; almost hunched over the Tree as though to let Her body shield it from the corruption of their eyes.

Then, Xenocrates laughs.

A wheezing thing; lungs not used in decades forced to awaken and work like nothing had changed since he was last mortal. He laughs through the struggle to remember how, through the pain of his open wounds and the ones healing too slowly. He laughs until blood and spittle gurgle on his tongue and he only pauses to swallow it back down before it returns renewed.

The very sound reignites Gaius’ anger in a new wave of revulsion.

“You dare mock Her?!” He snarls. “Blasphemer! Traitor. Coward!” And a whole litany of other foul names — every one he can think of — but one look from Rheya and he forces them all down. For now.

She waits until Xenocrates has had his moment; unwavering in Her patience and stoicism. When the First Son finally deigns to waste his unworthy eyes upon Her, though, the toll of his amusement could not be more clear. His skin dulled with an ashen taint, the circles under his bloodshot eyes darker and more prominent. His words croaked through cracked and peeling lips.

“You think…” —wheeze— “that I came here to curse myself twofold? That I want to rival your wicked desires?”

The only outward sign she gives is the tightening of Her grip and the flecks of bark that pry free from the Tree’s surface. “To imbibe from the Tree of Eternal Life is to become my equal. A secret I have only shared between my blood; between the two of you. Why would you come here against my wishes — against the will of Your Goddess — if not to use it against me?”

Even in his sickly state the look that brightens Xenocrates’ eyes is unmistakable.

Pity.

“I did not come here to take part in your power,” Slowly and with visible effort he reaches around to pry something from the folds of his himation. Rheya’s foot shifts in an unconscious step back, but she remains otherwise unfazed.

“I came here to purge the world of its tyranny. Your tyranny, Rheya.”

Dread holds Gaius’ voice hostage in his throat — leaving him frozen with unfamiliar fear. Xenocrates pries the dagger free from his hip to hold it up and outward. The blade kisses the moonlight with a shine; dangerous to anyone else. But not the three immortals gathered here.

The sight makes amusement twitch at the corners of the First Vampire’s lips. “Even if such a pitiful needle could fell me… did you not consider that together the Eternal Tree and I, united, are made invulnerable?”

“I may be a fool,” scoffs Xenocrates, “but perhaps you have forgotten, my Goddess, that I share your blood. Your powers are my powers, you hunger is my hunger. Suffice to believe our bond of blood goes both ways.

“And that my weaknesses are yours.”

A fool, indeed, with foolish notions. Gaius watches, a victorious smirk alight on his face, and waits for Her to prove Xenocrates to be nothing more than the jealous, corrupted failure of a usurper that he is.

He waits.

And waits.

And is kept waiting.

Rheya does not answer.

Xenocrates finally rights himself on his own two feet. Stronger; empowered by his vindication — by the first and only victory he claims tonight. But one is all it takes.

Finally, she commands him; “Explain yourself,” she says, but there’s nothing obedient about his answer.

“During the Siege of Solinthia, I was ambushed. The last of Aenos’ refugees — farmhands, laborers, children.” Dried blood flakes down his chin as Xenocrates’ upper lip curls in disgust; only at himself. “I was struck with the splintered end of a hoe, right here.” He touches the tip of his dagger to the flesh of his shoulder.

“The pain was unlike anything I could remember. But I did, eventually. It mirrored the day you returned from the depths of your banishment, oh Goddess, and chose to enslave Gaius and myself for your amusement.”

Enslave?! “You speak only for your own heresy! I would never waste my Goddess’ gift!” But there is no use reasoning with heretics; infections that need to be burned out to be cleansed.

“It was the feeling of dying, Rheya,” Xenocrates continues unhindered, “and in my state of weakness I did the only thing necessary to survive. But as I stood among their drained corpses I realized their deaths were not in vain. They were but sacrifices to the greater cause — to your end.”

Rheya’s expressionless guard slowly melts; sympathy heavy with burden radiating from Her with an unfelt strength. She wordlessly crosses the divide between them and cups Xenocrates’ stubbled chin with slender hands.

“I could have lost you, my little Prince…” and Gaius has never seen Her like this; never heard a tremble in Her strong voice or seen the cracks in Her armor such as these — never for him, but for that traitorous, ungrateful… “How could you keep this from me?”

The two of them, that close to one another; there’s only one word to describe them and Gaius hates it. They look tender together. At one another; sharp and clear edges of them bleeding together at the seams. He’s witnessed this sight and its close relations too many times to count — too many times for him to have any hope of carving it from his memories no matter how strong his convictions.

He’s seen it when his beautiful Goddess knows he’s there. And as many times in secret, dark places where he should not be… but where he cannot find it in himself not to go. And is he not justified, now? Has Xenocrates’ heinous betrayal not meant he, Her endlessly devoted Soldier, was the only one to truly care about Her?

How dare she look at him that way after everything he’s done against Her!

Only the truly villainous could be gifted those eyes… that smile… the intimacy of that reverent touch and just as easily cast it all aside for selfish gains!

Don’t give it to the unworthy. Find one who will never see anything but beauty, power; all that you are. Who will return it tenfold.

Give it to me.

Gaius would beg, would weep on his knees in confession to Her if he could. Maybe not this night, but the next, or the one following. When Xenocrates has been denounced and suffered Her wrath and served as example for any who might seek to betray the boundless heart his Goddess carries in Her breast. When she can then realize… see with wide, open eyes…

He is Her Soldier. And he can never be anything else.

Slowly, agonizingly, Gaius watches the tension drain from the former prince’s form. How his shoulders ease and the dagger hangs limp in three fingers instead of a tightly closed fist. That is the power She wields; and it is a glorious sight.

On anyone else.

“I blame myself,” whispers Rheya; dragging one hand up along the curves of Xenocrates’ face up to wind Her fingers in dark damp curls, “you were suffering, my Prince, and I was blind to it. To be gifted this new life — to be freed from the chains of mortality — only to find them lurking just out of sight… and all on your own…”

Xenocrates allows Her to tilt his head closer. She kisses his forehead with a whisper of Her lips; all the affection of the night sky and its thousands of stars in that single act. His eyelids flutter shut, dark lashes dusting his cheeks.

“No world changes willingly, Xenocrates. Our every act has a higher calling. But in my ambition I failed to remind you of our grander purpose; our immortal future… it is no surprise you lost your way.

“I forgive you, my love. And grant you pardon to find your way back to me.”

The first sign of trembling shoulders nearly sends Gaius launching forward, ready to take the dagger into his own body as many times as needed to spare Rheya any more of the pain of betrayal. But trembles become shakes, become the heaving ragged sounds of weeping. Somber, deep; befitting of the tomb around them.

The dagger falls lamely to the ground. His hands freed, Xenocrates grasps Her upper arms, clings so tight with his preternatural strength that he threatens to deform the ornate golden cuff around Her skin. She is a benevolent Goddess — she coaxes him closer with soft whispers of “sssh, my darling, all will be well…” through his pain to rest his head against Her collarbone.

Gaius barely realizes he has taken several steps closer to them when Rheya meets his eyes across the chamber. She gives him the slightest, barely perceptible shake of Her head; too slight for the First Son to notice. But even at a distance he recognizes the darkness bubbling beneath Her eternal beauty and youth. The same kind of ruthlessness here and now; Gaius has been witness to it while dutifully at Her side — watching in reverence as she strikes down Her enemies where they stand.

He has never seen Her look more beautiful than in this moment. So exquisite, so ethereal that he wants to make for the dagger and carve out his heart in offering to Her. She is a divinity that deserves an offering of blood — not tears.

“So much death and suffering…” Xenocrates reminds them both of his presence; the deep baritone of his voice warbling with grief, “and violence, and pain, and tragedy. My father’s crown was forged in unjust violence and—and I swore, Rheya, I vowed on my life I would right his wrongs no matter the cost.”

Her long fingers comb through the matted knots in his curls. “We will, we have.”

“I am stained with innocent blood. I cannot wash it from my soul.”

“Necessary sacrifices,” another kiss to his forehead, “all of them for a future without death, without suffering and tragedy and evil.”

“A world without evil…”

“One we will build — all of us — together.”

With the heaviest parts of his anguish passed, Xenocrates steadily pulls back from Rheya’s embrace to take in Her face unhindered. Dirt-smudged fingers brush aside a strand of dark, silken hair to tuck it behind Her ear.

“I see that now.” He agrees with a newfound surety. A sound that brings a rare but very real smile to Rheya’s face.

“I see a world of peace, of atonement. One without the evils that we have known… and without those we have created.”

“Necessary sacrifices,” she repeats; and flickers Gaius a confident look over Xenocrates’ shoulder.

He nods once. Agreement, complacency, apology — all the things Rheya demands of them and more given freely. Sealed as a promise with a chaste kiss to Her lips.

“In one way or another you have always shown me the right path, Rheya. From the moment we met… I knew you would help me understand. I was so lost, but I’ve finally found myself — with you.”

A strange look passes over Her. Curiosity and bemusement; things full of poetry and philosophy and other things she seeks Xenocrates’ learned company for. Things Gaius will one day force himself to understand. But only when he has seen Her world come to life; the trusted blade in Her hand no matter the enemy.

“I’m so glad you understand.”

Rheya’s head tilts to the side. She shifts with a discomfort Gaius can’t quite source from far away. “And what is it I understand?”

He’s too far away.

By the time he sees the white knuckled grip he has on Her for what it truly is, that is the only thing left in the world that he knows with every fiber of his being.

He’s too far away.

“Necessary sacrifices.”

Wisps of Her hair brush against his fingertips lighter than air. His hand outstretched, straining with every muscle; the last wounds from their earlier fight tearing open fresh and red and new from the effort. None of that matters. Tear off his limbs if they slow him down. Rip him in two if it means he moves twice as fast. Either way — Gaius gives everything to reach Her in time.

His everything just isn’t enough.

The branch blooms from the center of Her chest in crimson and ivory. He doesn’t realize his mouth is open in a silent scream until he tastes Her on his tongue — flecks of blood warm tasting rich on the tip of his tongue. Fate mocks him cruelly by stabbing the center of his palm with the tip that impales Her — mocking him. So close, little Soldier. But not close enough.

The wave of power that surges out from the Eternal Tree is a deafening roar. It sweeps Xenocrates off his feet and sends him flying through the tomb. He collides with the farthest wall with a crunch, his body falling to the ground limp and unconscious. It tries to take Gaius, too. But he uses his wound; clings to the pain like an anchor in a maelstrom and refuses to let it take Her from him.

Then as suddenly as it started, the energy stops. Gone, no trace; as though it never happened at all.

But it did. Her glassy eyes, blood dripping from Her soft lips, the strength of the gods worth nothing where Her arms hang limp at Her sides is all proof enough of that.

Even with the pain ringing in his ears, Gaius can hear the word as it tears itself from his throat.

“RHEYA!”

[twiceinadream]

“Promises, promises...”

Requested: Yup

Request: Dom! Jeongyeon x reader oneshots/imagines

a/u: I usually don’t write requests I get the day of, but I honestly needed Dom! Jeong in my life too. And there will be a second post later tonight, since I have seemed to overcome my writer’s block. Thank you to everyone who wished me well, I hope you enjoy. (Also it’s a Fem! S/O since I really had no idea what to write [sorry if you wanted Non-binary!])

Category: NSFW and Fluff

Word Count: 1.4K

Jeongyeon gave a quiet yawn, shifting in the warm, comfy confines of the snuggle pile they'd collapsed into. Finish a world tour. Promote their new album. Award shows and then collapse into a loving, snugly pile of fluffy blankets in the living room. Jeongyeon couldn't help but smile. Last time they had done this, it turned out so well they had all agreed that the next time they all needed a well deserved nap after their hectic schedules, they weren't too proud to cuddle up with each other and just fall asleep. Cozy. Comfy. A snuggle pile with best friends. Jeongyeon loved it.

Maybe it had been an hour? Maybe two? Regardless, Jeongyeon woke up when something shifted around underneath her. Momo- who mumbled something about jokbal in her sleep, and snuggled into Mina; squeezing her lovingly like a stuffed animal. Mina must have been vaguely aware of this or perhaps dreaming of something similar, because she had Momo securely wrapped up in her own arms, the two Japanese girls nestled together and snuggling quietly while they both slept. Jeongyeon herself was locked in an embrace with you when she'd found herself dozing off earlier in the day. You guys had shared a secret little kiss before falling asleep in each others arms.

Only now it wasn't your arms Jeongyeon found herself snuggled into. Oh it was still you, alright. You smelled strongly: like lavender and vanilla, something Jeongyeon would never forget. You smelled a bit like a Heaven, but somehow, during her nap, Jeongyeon had shifted position, and now found herself with your legs wrapped snugly around her neck.

And in front of her, only inches from her face was the opening of your skirt. And that's when Jeongyeon got a horrible idea. A horribly, wicked, terribly, naughty idea.

First, though, Jeongyeon slowly flipped up your skirt and lowered your panties, admiring the tight little entrance in front of her. Snug. Perfect and taut. The sweet little venus you sported had the soft musky scent of lavender. Jeongyeon licked her lips and quietly went to work.

The first kiss was gentle; a little flicker of her tongue across the tight seal of your opening. She took her time, tracing the tip of her tongue softly along the outer folds. She went slow- slower than she would have liked. But, no. She wanted to savor this, to take her time and enjoy it. She let your tangy flavor dance across her tongue and Jeongyeon slurped up every ounce of taste she had to offer. Still, delicious as this was, it wasn't the fun part. Not yet. Jeongyeon frowned and pressed her tongue in- twisting it about until she felt the- ahhh, the little pleasure button you was hiding.

She circled you's clit once, twice, and grinned wickedly when you shifted above her. Jeongyeon glanced up, and offered you a dirty smile. You had woken up, and now peered down curiously at Jeongyeon with bleary, sleep drenched eyes.

"Wha...what are yo-" you sputtered, only to gasp when she felt Jeongyeon's tongue circle around her clit once more. Jeongyeon flashed you another wicked little grin, and your eyes widened. The game was afoot! Nervously, you tried to shift you position; trying to squeeze your thighs shut to deny Jeongyeon access- but Jeongyeon was already far too deep for that.

Her tongue wiggled and slurped, teasing you into a helpless silent squeal. If you could, you would have reached down to push Jeongyeon away, but your left arm was pinned underneath Tzuyu- who gave a quiet snore in her sleep and yawned. You couldn't move without waking up the others, and you had to stay quiet, less you were heard. Jeongyeon you wicked, wicked beautiful human being. You blushed furiously and shot Jeongyeon a glare. Jeongyeon returned it, continuing with her horrific torture.

I'll get you for this...

Promises, promises...

Jeongyeon gave a wicked little grin, and her ears perked to the adorable little gasps and squeaks that whispered out over head. You were doing your absolute best to remain quiet; squeezing your thighs around Jeongyeon's head and trying to bite back the squeals of pleasure that trickled from your lips. But it was all for naught.

Jeongyeon had her right where she wanted her. Sinisterly, the idol flicked her pink tongue across the little pleasure button of your sex, teasing it in slow gentle swirls, around and around and around. The scent was unmistakable now; flooding Jeongyeon's senses and drilling her into a world of arousal she could barely contain herself. Still, you were the target- she'd have to take care of herself after her little prank was over.

Delicately, Jeongyeon kissed the pouty little lips of your pussy. She planted loving kisses, quiet kisses, flickering little fluttery kisses. Soft, tickling buzzing, bumble-bee kisses, and slow sweet suckling kisses. All the while, you tried remain still, biting at her lower lip and struggling to hold back whimpers as Jeongyeon slyly brought her closer and closer to a sticky orgasm in front of all of your guy’s friends.

You 'squeaked' helplessly as Jeongyeon found a particular sensitive spot, freezing in place and shutting her mouth a moment after wards. Tzuyu shifted in her sleep next to you, ‘Oh! No! No no no! Don't wake up, please don't wake up!’

You weren’t sure if you could handle the humiliation of Tzuyu waking up in your arms, while you were a stone's throw away from an orgasm!

Luckily, Tzuyu simply gave a quiet yawn, and snuggled in closer to you, resuming her slumber while you held your breath. Below you, Jeongyeon gave a terrible snicker and slurped her tongue along your sex from base to top.

By this time, you had stopped secretly begging Jeongyeon to stop. She didn't know what would be worse- if Jeongyeon continued; pushing you over the edge and into a honey soaked climax right in the middle of 'nap time' or if Jeongyeon did stop, leaving you whimpering and needy for the rest of the afternoon. The prankster of Twice, was clever as she was cruel, you would give her that for sure. You were being pressed closer and closer still. You could feel your climax building, and Jeongyeon had no intention of stopping!

Jeongyeon kissed and licked, lazily toying with your sex and not giving you a moment to catch your breath. It took so much effort to keep from squeaking and squealing at Jeongyeon's intense teasing, and for every lick Jeongyeon gave, you had to try twice as hard to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure.

Closer and closer still. Every lick Jeongyeon gave you, you could feel her pleasure building into an unapologetic crescendo. You bit your lower lip, nervously glancing around at Tzuyu to your left, Momo and Mina below you, and Chaeyoung to Tzuyu's left. The wrong move- the wrong squeak, and one of them would be privy to an act you preferred to remain private between you and Jeongyeon. Somehow that made everything hotter and everything that much more intense. It was all just so naughty and forbidden and taboo and secretive- you gasped. You couldn't stop yourself! Right here in front of everyone!!

Jeongyeon took it slow- slower than you would have liked; lazily lapping over the your needy treasure, and almost squealing herself when your body finally, finally gave in to the delicious torture. A small trickle of slick leaked out over Jeongyeon's tongue, and she greedily lapped it up, enjoying each and every helpless shudder quietly made. Above her, you kicked and twitched, but in absolute silence.

Even still, Jeongyeon could tell your naughty little climax had been a very powerful one. Something about doing your best to keep it a secret must have riled you up like crazy. Oh yes, you would get her for this- of that she was certain, but for now, Jeongyeon enjoyed herself, with her face buried between your thighs. The room remained utterly quiet as you were forced to have a hard, silent orgasm and Jeongyeon loved every second of it.

The second eldest grinned evilly, wiggling herself back up into your arms, as you laid there blushing wildly at the other girl’s terrible prank. With your arms still pinned down, there was nothing she could do to strangle Jeongyeon the way you wanted. Jeongyeon leaned in to kiss you quietly on the nose, and snuggled in against you, wiggling in to get comfy before falling asleep.

"Love you." Jeongyeon whispered softly, close enough so only you could hear. Not that anyone else was awake anyway. You huffed quietly. Sweet as that was, you knew there was no way you’d ever get back to sleep; your mind already filled with infinite possibilities for revenge.