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#so i copied it from AO3
volleyball-crow · 4 months
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Rules!! Aoba Johsai Volleyball Team
Rejected titles, written above and crossed out: Resistance is Futile, Oikawa-san’s Rules, OIKAWA-SAN RULES, Seijoh Commandments, Aoba Johsai Laws, Shittykawa can’t come up with decent titles to save his life, Vice-captain please stop antagonizing him
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Rule #1: Oikawa-san is the master commander in this ship and you shall obey him in all matters.
lol l o l lol lol Mutiny! Mutiny, I say!
Rule #2: First-years must rotate setting up duties, as well as cleaning up duties.
Oikawa, if you’re going to do this, then at least do it decently why must you suck the fun out of everything, Iwa-chan? interesting choice of words there Oikawa-kun! Matsukawa. Laps. Yes, sir. On it, sir.
Rule #2.1. if Kunimi pretends to forget his turn again, he’ll get a life sentence
why is there a rule just for me, Hanamaki-san, that’s so unfair i n s t e a d   o f   a   r u l e,   w e   c o u l d   a s k   t h e    v i c e-c a p t a i n   t o   t h i n k    u p   s o m e   k i n d   o f    s p e c i a l   p u n i s h m e n t    f o r   y o u actually, you know what, Kindaichi, I’m fine with this
Rule #3: You bleed on it, you wash it
how do I get blood out of fabric, again? hydrogen peroxide, Mattsun. or you could just put that ugly yellow shirt in the trash where it belongs don’t even, Oikawa, I know the nasty stuff you have hidden in that wardrobe
Rule #4: Mandatory yearly field trip to look at the stars for team bonding purposes!
Is this just an excuse to spend an entire night looking for UFOs and discussing the possibility of alien life? Y e s. Y e s. Yeeep. What say you, Dr. Expert-in-Oikawa-Matters I say he probably needs his Star Trek collection confiscated to calm down a little YOU’RE NOT CUTE! YOU’RE NOT CUTE AT ALL! THIS IS WHY YOU CAN’T GET A GIRLFRIEND, IWA-CHAN! lol no it’s not
Rule #5: If you bring a water bottle to practice, then take it home with you
The club room is small enough, don’t waste space on stupid stuff, we already have Oikawa that hurt even me UNCALLED FOR IWA-CHAN!
Rule #6: Occasionally the vice-captain will fuck up and end up petting the captain’s hair in apology. Pretend you don’t see this.
I’d like to know who had the balls to write this because he deserves a medal h a p p y   p e o p l e   s h o u l d   a l l   e x p l o d e
Rule #6: For fuck’s sake, no fangirls.
someone explain to me how come Oikawa-san’s presence makes us all invisible? l o l   m i s d i r e c t i o n
Rule #7: Iwa-chan needs some loving every now and then~ Oikawa needs a kick in the ass every now and then
N o   t h a n k s,   I   e n j o y   l i v i n g I also happen to be quite attached to my life r e l a x,   l i t t l e   f i r s t   y e a r s,   I w a i z u m i    m e a n t   t h i s   r u l e   j u s t   f o r   h i m s e l f,   h e’ d   k i l l   y o u   i f   y o u   t r i e d   i t o h    g o d not to worry, Kindaichi, Oikawa-senpai would kill us himself first s o m e h o w    I’ m    n o t   c o m f o r t e d Iwa-chan, how dare you talk about the great Oikawa-san like this! that’s exactly why why does no one respect me in this house. I guess we should show our respect for you more, shouldn’t we, Captain Mattsun~ you’re my favourite♥
Rule #8: We must greet Oikawa’s greatness every morning with a salute and 2 yoga exercises done on the spot.
Downward dog is preferred. I w a i z u m i - s a n,   n o o o o   X D D D Mattsun, you’re no longer my favourite. lol disowned it was all worth it HANAMAKI-SAN DID IT HANAMAKI-SAN DID IT OH MY GOD HAHAHAHAHA M A T S U K A W A - S A N  T O O!   O M G this is why everyone thinks the volleyball team is not normal well, they’re not wrong
Rule #9: Funny guys who think they’re funnier than they actually are will run laps until they puke♥
Sorry =(   Sorry        S O R R Y       s o r r y ! !       oops We’re really sorry, please don’t kill us Whoever said Captain is not a hardass, my thousand bruises and missing tooth would like to have a word he just wanted to see if your eyebrows get thinner when you’re tired Iwaizumi-san. Not helping. [you’re all so strange - Sawamura] Z I P    I T    K A R A S U N O !
Rule #10: If we’re playing poker, Oikawa-senpai is not allowed in the room
just -how- does he know everyone’s tells? it’s not that bad, is it? m a y b e    i f    y o u    c o u l d   r e s i s t   t h e    u r g e   t o   d o   a   l i v e  a u d i o   c o m m e n t a r y   a n d   d i d n ’t   o u t   e v e r y   s i n g l e   b l u f f   g o i n g  o n I’d also appreciate my eyebrows not being the topic of a 5-minute monologue for once
Rule #11: Monopoly is BANNED.
L e t   i t    b e   n o t e d   h e r e    t h a t    I   o w n e d   a l l   y o u r   a s s e s. Makki, dude, let it go.
Rule #12: No dog jokes, practical or otherwise. Kyotani is enough of a pain in the ass already.
personally I thought the leash was a very nice touch because he didn’t get the joke? because he didn’t get the joke. y o u ’ r e   s o   l u c k y    h e   r e a d   t h e   w o r d   “R u l e s”   a n d   s t a r t e d   p r e t e n d i n g   t h i s   b o a r d   d o e s n’ t   e x i s t
Rule #13: Liberos are precious creatures that must be protected at all costs.
I need to know who wrote this, so I can figure out if I should be feeling the love or the sarcasm Watari, dear, it’s probably both O i k a w a - s a n   o n   p o i n t   a s    a l w a y s
Rule #14: Iwa-chan is a beautiful cinnamon roll, too perfect for this world, too pure
d i d   O i k a w a - s a n   s u r v i v e   w r i t i n g   t h i s ? he’s been missing for three days O H    M Y   G O D    W H A T Kindaichi you saw him less than an hour ago o h.   o h   y e a h.
Rule #15: If you’re drunk, we don’t know you.
But I hear he still carried Captain’s ass home [but did he cop a feel, tho] NEKOMA WHEN I FIND YOU I’M GONNA KILL YOU [that was not a no] please don’t kill another team’s captain, Iwaizumi-san
Rule #16: If you don’t know me, I can do whatever I want
a h.   t h e y ’r e   s t i l l    f i g h t i n g,   a r e n ’t    t h e y ? how observant of you. Does nothing escape your all-seeing eye, Kindaichi?
Rule #17: Team dinners after every match. No exceptions.
good to hear they made up
Rule #18: The next person to start an underwear-stealing chain will be hung up from the school’s flag mast in their socks. And only their socks.
is this actually physically possible? wanna find out?
Rule #19: Iwaizumi-san is always serious, and must always be taken at his word, please don’t ever think he’s kidding because he’ll really do it oh god
and they said high school wouldn’t be a traumatic experience
Rule #20: CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES FOR FUCK’S SAKE THAT WAS DISGUSTING
this day will go down in Aoba Johsai history as the smelliest there ever was i t    l o o k s    l i k e    a   d i r t y    l a u n d r y    b o m b   f r o m   h e l l   w e n t    o f f    i n    t h e r e.   w h a t    t h e   h e l l   h a p p e n e d I   n e e d    t o   kn o w:   w h o    d o   t h e   s p a r k l y    a l i e n   b o x e r s   b e l o n g   t o ? lolololol Oikawa-san, Kindaichi found your underwear w h a t ? nooooo, Kin-chan, don’t believe his lies! I know for a fact you have three more pairs in different colours STOP MESSING IN MY UNDERWEAR DRAWER HAJIME stop hiding the TV remote in there when you’re sulking C a p t a i n… ah, Captain just broke Kindaichi’s little hero-worshipping heart. he should buy him dinner as compensation. and me too. oh no. I feel so disillusioned. only free food can heal the wound in my soul. in fact, he should buy all of us dinner, after all this hard work, isn’t that right, Hanamaki-san? I   w o u l d n’ t    s a y   n o    t o    t h a t,    M a t s u k a w a - s a n. you’re all horrible, horrible people, I should just go to Shiratorizawa you’d be back in three days, tops. you’re so uncute, Iwa-chan. no wonder you can’t get a girlfriend. lolololol that’s not why
Rule #21: don’t underestimate other teams, no matter how weak they seem.
d a m n.   d a m n    d a m n    d a m n   d a m n. next time, man. we’ll only get better from here. stay focused.
Rule #22: Karasuno and Shiratorizawa are going down first - and then we’re going for the Champions Cup. First place will be ours.
Scribbled several times all over the remaining space below rule #22 in different handwritings: Yes, Captain.
RULE THE COURT
(tiny drawing of an adorable, but somehow incredibly menacing chibi!Oikawa, with a cheerful smile full of teeth. The speech bubble next to him reads: “…. or else.”)
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iamanartichoke · 11 months
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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
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meownotgood · 2 months
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Hey, just so you know, the person who plagiarized your work hasn't actually deleted their ao3 but changed it to sugucidal. While looking through my one fic I know they commented on it showed up like that. Figured you'd want to know so you can still block them.
oh wow. the saga continues apparently because every single one of the fics this account has ever posted were stolen from me. like.... I'm not sure what could compel a person to do this....
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possumbylight · 1 year
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Letters From the Future
A/N: hello hello this is also cross-posted on ao3 so you can check it out there too if you wanna! i don’t know if there’s any demand for bertolt content but if there is i am here to provide. hope you enjoy ;)
Summary: A pile of letters, tied in red ribbon and addressed to her from a man now dead.
Warnings: Angst. Fluff and Angst, meaning fluff on the way but angst on the end. I’ve never written angst so I don’t know if i’m any good at it but it made me sad writing it so maybe that means something
This bad boy is over 12k words. Please set aside the appropriate chunk of time if you would like to read it all in one sitting.
Pairings: Bertolt Hoover/Reader
“Y/n?”
There was no response when Jean knocked on the door. She had been in her room for the last day now, only appearing in brief intervals to accept meager portions of food or take a trip to the communal bathrooms. Everyone who saw her gave her at least ten feet of clearance, as though she were going to combust, as though she were going to sink her teeth into her own hand and transform before their eyes.
“Y/n, I know you’re in there. I have something for you.”
“No, thank you.”
“Too bad. If you don’t open the door, I’m bringing Mikasa to break it down.”
He had wanted to threaten that he would break down the door himself, but Mikasa carried a certain weight around the barracks that he simply could not attain.
Jean balanced the weight of the letters in his hand. There had to be at least two dozen in the pile, likely more, and some of them were several pages long. When he had pulled them out of the wall, they had been wrapped neatly with a red ribbon and kept in a simple leather pouch that tied shut with a drawstring. Bertolt’s other effects were in various states of disrepair, showing signs of water damage, wrinkling, or general wear and tear”
The letters were pristine.
He had taken one look at the letter on top of the pile before averting his gaze. The words were not meant for him. Every single letter was addressed to the same person, who was now in the middle of reluctantly shuffling towards the door before Jean could call in reinforcements to smoke her out.
“What do you want?”
“Don’t be rude. I brought you something,” he reiterated, shoving the pile of letters in her direction before she could refuse them. “Mail for you.”
“My family is dead. No one sends me mail.”
“You’ll want to read these.”
She scrunched her brow but finally accepted the letters and slammed the door in Jean’s face, purposefully ignoring the indignant, “you’re welcome,” that he shouted through the door. She carefully pulled open the red ribbon and let the pile fall out all over her desk. As she scanned the words, it became incredibly obvious why the letters had been given to her and not kept for evidence.
Dear y/n,
I doubt you will ever see this letter. It’s hard to remember how many years of my life I have left, but if I do succeed in returning to my hometown, it won’t be long before I will have to pass on my power to the next generation of warriors.
I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, but I don’t think you would want to. I’m sure you probably hate me now, and I don’t blame you for that. I can’t even bring myself to say that I regret what I did, but I know that I am not proud of myself.
I remember looking down and seeing you during the breach of Trost, and then again before Reiner and I deserted. I remember the terror in your eyes. I remember the way you ran away from me, instead of running towards me, like you always did when I would see you out on the training grounds. I hate myself for making you feel afraid. I never wanted that.
If you do someday see this letter and you don’t immediately burn it, I would like to clear up a few things.
I don’t think you’re a filthy devil. I don’t think any of you are, but especially not you. I don’t know how anyone could look at you and find a single thing wrong. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. I wish I had known you before Zhiganshina fell. I can’t promise that it would have changed things, though.
I was raised to do exactly what I did. I was given a mission, and I did it to the best of my ability. I was only a child, then. I was a child when I inherited this power at all. I won’t try to justify myself to you. I don’t deserve forgiveness for what I’ve done, but know that there are reasons why I did it.
I love you. That is the most important truth I want to convey to you. If you ever loved me, I’m sure that it has run out. A happy ending was never possible for me, but it can be for you, if you keep surviving as you have for so long. The fight ahead will not be easy, but I hope you come out alive on the other end. I hope you can find peace and happiness. I love you, and I want you to be happy, even if I am not there to see it.
Please, please survive.
All my love,
Bertolt
~
“Hoover! You’ll take your head off if you keep swinging that close. Your height can be an advantage on the ground, but when you’re in the air, you have to watch it,” Shadis screamed. The man’s lung capacity was perpetually astounding. It was a miracle that he awoke every day with his vocal cords still intact, after having shrieked his head off at the cadets the day before.
Bertolt took the advice in stride, however, keeping his head ducked as he lifted off from the ground below a tree branch. When he made it to the treetop, Reiner was already there, surveying the territory from above.
“If we take out the small titans in the clearing, we likely won’t have any competition,” Reiner began strategizing aloud, “but if we take out the larger ones by the creek, we’ll rack up more points.”
“I’ll follow your lead.”
“Alright. Let’s take the creek, but—wait, where are the other two?”
Just as Reiner turned to look for the other two members of their team, a hook thwapped into the trunk just below his feet, sending y/n hurtling upwards towards him until she landed, butt-first, on the branch beside him.
“Sorry,” she apologized, out of breath and clearly a bit embarrassed about flopping onto the tree like a large fish out of water. “Connie ran into a tree.”
Connie, who landed harshly beside her after a few moments, indignantly retorted, “You ran into a tree too, y/n, don’t blame me.”
“If you hadn’t gotten your lines tangled in a bush, neither of us would have run into a tree.”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” Reiner interjected, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “We’re going to clear out the large titans by the creek and then move into the inner forest. Understood?”
“Yes sir!” y/n and Connie both saluted with questionable levels of reverence.
It was a group training exercise, which Bertolt appreciated and dreaded in measure. He was glad to have Reiner on his team, but that necessitated the presence of two other team members whom he did not know very well. Y/n and Connie seemed nice enough, but his nerves did not yield to nice.
Annie’s team was already perusing the area around the creek, having taken out three large titan standees, the feathers and dirt from their nape-bags busted all across the ground. Bertolt would have been content to have avoided all competition and settled for the middling points they could have acquired in the empty clearing, but Reiner was determined to take first place.
Y/n and Connie seemed content with not smashing into anymore trees.
“Reiner, how do you do that move where you pick your legs up mid-air and turn?” Connie called above the sound of pulleys and wires and extending blades.
“It’s about core strength, Springer. You’ll have to actually participate in conditioning if you want to learn how to do it properly.”
“What? I’m a master of conditioning. You could teach me right now, and I could—”
“Connie, you did seven push-ups this morning and were convinced you were bleeding internally,” y/n corrected as she zipped past the conversation. Once she was in the air, she found, she was quite fast. It was taking off and landing where she had to watch out.
“I—shut up.”
By the time they arrived at the creek, there were four standees left, which they divvied up between them and took down with relative ease. It wouldn’t be long before graduation, and y/n was happy to be on a team with three top-ten-hopefuls, even if she was only number 14 herself. She had planned to go into the Scouts, anyway, but the idea of having the option of living in the Interior was enticing.
She arced around the standee, spinning once to rip open the bag at its nape before picking out a decent landing spot on the ground, one where she was sure to avoid casualties even if her feet failed her again. Unfortunately, just as she began her uneasy descent, a figure flashed into her periphery—tall, dark, and wielding two razor-sharp blades.
“Bertolt! Watch out!”
She was too late in warning him. Before he could even turn his head to witness her grand descent, she was already flying towards him, landing on top of him in a massive heap of limbs and wires. She could be grateful, at least, that her own blades were already sheathed, and that he had loosed his grip on his, sending them tumbling away before either of them could experience impalement for the first and final time.
“Oh, shit,” she groaned as she shifted herself off of Bertolt’s flattened back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Bertolt. My landing really needs work.”
“It’s alright, it’s okay,” he assured her, somewhat unconvincingly. The impact had squished him flat on the ground, and his long arms were crumpled uncomfortably beneath him. Not to mention the knot on his head that had immediately surfaced after he had landed face-first on the ground and smacked his forehead against a rock.
“Oh, my god,” she breathed. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine, really,” he muttered as he reached up a wary hand to skim over the goose egg now bulging like an alien was trying to break out of his skull. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah, but it was a stupid accident. I should know better by now. I have to get better at landings.”
“Bertolt, are you alright?” Reiner stepped into the situation with a furrowed brow.
“I’m fine, Reiner. Just a little run-in.”
Even though Bertolt was adamant in assuring y/n that he was okay, she eyed him warily for the rest of the day, watching the knot swell to a disgusting size as big black and blue splotches gathered around it. He was checked for a concussion, but his brain seemed to be in proper working order, so he kept a cold pack pressed against his forehead in hopes that the lump would shrink down by the next morning.
“Heard you and Bertolt had a fun afternoon,” Jean remarked, so smug that it boiled y/n’s nerves. “That’s a real nice bump on his forehead. Did you land like a dying duck again?”
“Shut up, dumbass,” y/n argued. “I feel terrible about it. He kept saying he was alright, but that thing can’t be comfortable. It’s embarrassing.”
“How the hell are you number 14?” Jean doubled down as he took the seat right beside her. “Your academic score must be almost as high as Armin’s for you to be so high in the rankings.”
“My hand-to-hand combat score is in the top four, so if you would like to keep talking, I would suggest doing it at a distance, Kirstein.”
“Leave her alone, Jean,” Eren agreed quite loudly, obviously trying to weasel his way into the conversation so he would have a reason to battle with Jean again. Y/n appreciated the back-up, but the constant bickering between the two was getting on her nerves.
She excused herself from the table and walked outside into the evening air. The sound of hammering footsteps in the distance signaled that Sasha was making the rounds again, and the sound of haughty flirtation meant that Ymir was in the middle of another wooing session with Krista. Two more figures stood shadowed at around the corner, sheltered between the sloping roof of the mess hall and the high walls of the barracks.
Y/n knew immediately from the sheer heigh of the figure on the left who it was.
“Y/n,” Reiner called to her, flagging on hand in her direction to pull her into the conversation. “You saw Bertolt’s performance this afternoon. What did you think?”
“Oh, I—”
“Y/n, you don’t have to answer that,” Bertolt interjected hurriedly. As he turned to face her, she could only focus on the swelling knot on his forehead. “I’m sorry, Reiner just—”
“Bertolt is saying that he doesn’t think his performance is enough to secure his position in the top ten. What do you think?” Reiner entirely waved off Bertolt’s protest and y/n’s obvious distraction, crossing one arm over his chest and bringing the other hand to rest on his chin as though deep in thought.
“Um… Bertolt is really talented, I think. He seems to be a really well-rounded soldier. I think he’s more than worthy of being in the top ten.”
“You see? I told you, I—” Reiner began with a heavy clap to Bertolt’s shoulder, but before he could further embarrass his companion, someone called his name from afar. “I’ll be right back. You two keep talking.”
“Reiner!” Bertolt called in a sort of whispered shout before turning to y/n, praying that the shadow of the alleyway would mask the red of his face. “I’m sorry that he pulled you into this. Thank you for your kind words, y/n.”
“You’re welcome. I meant them, too. I wasn’t just saying it because Reiner was around. You’re really talented, Bertolt. I, on the other hand, could use some work.”
“What? You’re close to the top ten yourself. You’re doing a great job.”
“Bertolt, I landed on top of you today. I smashed you flat like a pancake. Have you looked in a mirror recently? There’s a knot on your head the size of a small titan.”
“Oh, I—well, that’s nothing. It was an accident.”
“Yeah, but it’s an accident that’s happened too many times before. I can’t land for shit. Last week, I nearly took out Eren when I tried to land beside him. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if Mikasa had seen.”
Bertolt didn’t respond immediately. He could practically hear the proud thump of his heart in the uncomfortable silence that followed, but the proper words would not come to him. He didn’t know y/n very well, but she was friends with nearly everyone else in the 104th. She was helpful when she could be, and she watched her teammates backs when she had the chance. He wouldn’t mind getting to know her.
But he couldn’t. He wasn’t there to make friends. Bertolt remembered clearly the mission for which he had been selected, whether or not Reiner always did. Then again, with Reiner dipping in and out of conscious understanding of their situation, it would be nice to have someone else to talk to.
“Well, I should get back to the mess hall,” y/n began awkwardly, just at the same time as Bertolt asked, “Would you like me to help you?”
“Help me?” she clarified. “You mean with my landings? You don’t have to do that, I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste of my time. We could go out into the forest tomorrow, and I could show you a few tricks.”
“I would really appreciate that, Bertolt, thank you.”
~
Dear y/n,
I have thought about my family a lot in the past few years. I haven’t seen them since I left my hometown to complete the mission to destroy the walls. They don’t even know that I’m still alive. I suppose that I don’t know that, either. They could have all died in a house fire, and I would never know.
I told you the truth about them. Everything I said to you about my family was true, except for the place I grew up in. I did stay in the mountains inside Maria for some time, but that is not where my family is.
I was born in a place called Liberio. I wish I could show you sometime, but I fear what they might do to you if they found out you were from Paradis. I would never want to put you in a dangerous situation like that, but there are so many beautiful things about my hometown that I wish I could share with you.
There’s a market at the center of town where farmers and artisans gather to sell their products. Along the boardwalk are little shops that sell all kinds of things, from food to jewelry to books. You would love to see it all. I can see the light in your eyes, the excitement in your voice. It would be so lovely to spend a day with you there.
Sometimes, I dream of bringing you to dinner with my family so they can meet you, so they can see how wonderful you are. You changed my perspective on everything. I’m sure you could change theirs, too.
I doubt we will ever make it to Liberio together. I doubt that I will make it there myself before I die, but if you do get the chance to visit, please say hello to my family for me. Maybe they can take take you to see the ocean, if I never get the chance to.
All my love,
                                                                                                                            Bertolt
~
“Congratulations, Hoover,” Jean said with a thump on his back, jolting him forward with the unexpected force of it. Bertolt felt that he was constantly getting thumped on the back, or clapped on the shoulder, and he wasn’t sure how to stop it. It was all very friendly—he appreciated the camaraderie of it all—but he did not like the suddenness of it.
“Thank you, Jean. Congratulations to you, as well.”
“You beat me this time, but you’d better watch out. I’ll surpass you one of these days.”
“Yeah, okay,” Bertolt laughed uncomfortably. He was unaware of any soldier-ranking system outside of cadet training, and he doubted that Jean could realistically surpass years of his rigorous warrior training, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I suppose it won’t matter too much, once I’m safe in the Interior. Where do you plan on going?”
“Oh, I guess I—”
“Bertolt! Think fast!”
Bertolt whipped his whole body around and just barely managed to catch y/n as she hurtled through the air towards him, her arms wrapping around his neck and her legs around his torso. For all his hatred of sudden movements and touches, he had become quite accustomed to this odd ritual.
It had started as a joke, when he had first ventured deep into the woods with her for extra training. He had intended to teach her all his tips and tricks for landing with ODM gear, and though this task had been accomplished somewhere along the way, they had ended up exchanging advice for different types of training, opinions about other cadets, and even stories about their families and hometowns.
‘I wish I could teach you something in exchange,’ y/n had told him one afternoon, pouting as she kicked as a pile of split-open training bags. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you need to work on?’
‘You don’t need to repay me. I’m happy to help. My reaction times could always be quicker, but—’
‘Maybe if your reaction time had been quicker, I wouldn’t have flattened you like a pancake,’ she had said with a laugh. The bump on his head was nearly gone at that point, but he remembered the smack of his skull against that rock and wished that he had seen her inbound before the collision. ‘Is there something I can do to help with that?’
He hadn’t been able to think of anything in the moment, but by the end of their training session that day, she had obviously come up with something on her own.
The first time she had run at him full-force, yelling, ‘Bertolt, think fast,’ he had not, in fact, thought very fast, nor had he caught her before she latched onto his back and sent them both tumbling onto the ground. This time, there was no rock for him to smack into, much to the relief of the both of them.
“I caught you,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Usually, she clambered off of him immediately after the reflex test was over, but this time, she was obviously quite excited to hang onto him.
“Good job, Bertolt. You caught me. And, you made number 3 of the top ten.”
“It’s thanks to you, probably.”
She scoffed as she finally set her feet back onto the ground, saying, “Don’t lie. I just attacked you a few dozen times. You were the one who got me from number 14 to number 12. That’s a pretty impressive leap.”
“It’s because you worked hard, y/n. Accepting help doesn’t mean that I did all the work for you. You had to really put in the time and effort. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, too, Bertolt,” she returned, extending her hand for a high-five. “Do you think you’ll choose Military Police? I know that before, you said you weren’t really sure where you would go, but the appeal of getting in the top ten is that you can go live in the Interior. You have to promise you’ll send me a souvenir, though. Like some of those expensive cakes that they eat in Mitras. I don’t even know if you can send those by mail, but you’d better try.”
“I don’t know if I’ll go to the Interior, honestly. Reiner’s been talking about the Scouts, so maybe I’ll go with him.”
“But where do you want to go? If you want to go to the Scouts, you should go, but if you want to go to the Military Police, you should do that instead. You don’t have to do what Reiner wants to do.”
He did have to do what Reiner wanted to do, not only because he and Reiner were working towards the same goal, but because Reiner had not been entirely stable as of late. The far-off look in his eyes that appeared from time to time was concerning. The amount of times Bertolt had brought up their hometown, only for Reiner to assume that he was talking about Wall Maria, frightened him considerably. He not only needed to stick with Reiner for logistical reasons, but for personal ones. If Reiner was unwell, Bertolt needed to keep an eye on him.
“I’ll consider it,” was all he replied, and y/n seemed content with the answer, though he doubted she would drop it entirely. “What about you?”
“I think I’m going to join the Scouts.”
“I was hoping you had changed your mind about that,” he murmured aloud, more to himself than to her. “If this is because of Eren making all those speeches, then you should reconsider.”
“No, it’s not just because of Eren and his speeches. I don’t think I’d do well in the Garrison. I don’t like to just… sit around. Not that there aren’t engineers in the Garrison who do perfectly good work, but, you know.”
“Yeah, I guess I can understand that.”
He did understand. She had that type of personality, that natural curiosity that drew her to explore the outside world. It didn’t mean that he was happy about it, or that he didn’t wish she would accept a boring but ultimately safe life in the Garrison. Aside from the massive death toll characteristic of each mission outside the walls, Bertolt was unsure when he and his fellow warriors would be launching a new attack, and he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t have to fight his friends in the Scouts directly.
This was why he hadn’t necessarily wanted to make friends, but with y/n, it had been natural. She hadn’t been warded off by his shy temperament, nor had she been intimidated by Reiner’s constant presence in his life. She had directed her curiosity towards him, and he had found that he did not mind the attention, when it was from her.
“You’ll be safe though, right?” he asked her, and her face lit up.
“Of course I will. I have to be alive to respond to all the letters you send me, right?”
“Right, good.”
~
Dear y/n,
Do you remember the battle for Trost? I’m sure you do. It would be hard to forget something like that. I was so nervous that day, and yet, I was so sure that I was doing the right thing for the people of my homeland. When I looked down and saw you running away, tears in your eyes, I hated myself for it.
I did what I could to keep from hurting you. As soon as the wall was breached, I looked for you. When I found you, and you were unhurt, I was so glad. I was so happy to know that I hadn’t hurt you. When I’m all the way up there, I can see everything, except for the small things, except for the things that are really important.
I don’t want to manipulate you into thinking that I’m not a bad person. I am. Or, maybe I’m not. I’m not even sure of it myself. This world is so cruel, and I have had to be cruel to survive it, but does that justify the lengths to which I have gone to survive? Does that justify the cruelty I have enacted upon others? I don’t know.
I wish I could talk to you about this in person. You were always so comforting. You were always so kind. When I was with you, I felt like the world was alright. I felt like whatever I had done did not matter as much as what I was going to do in the future. You have such a beautiful perspective on life. You have such a lovely soul.
If we meet again, I want to thank you for changing me. You may not recognize that I have changed for the better. I’m sure that from the outside, it looks as though I am a villain. Perhaps I am, but I do not have that hatred in my heart.
If you are reading this letter, I hope that you do not hate me. I would not blame you if you do, but if I am allowed to be selfish, I would want you to love me.
All my love,
                                                                                                                                Bertolt
~
She knew she was going to die. There was no way she would survive this, for a second time. The first time she had seen the Colossal Titan, rising tall even above the 50-meter walls outside of her hometown, she had barely made it to the boat before the bridge had risen, before the Armored ran through the breach and breathed a stream of smoke and steam so hot she could see it bristling over the surface of the water.
Y/n tried to look for her family—her brother was dead, she knew that as soon as she saw the roof of his bakery smashed underneath a massive, pot-bellied titan with yellowing teeth, dripping fresh blood and bits of organs from its jaws. Her mother and father were nowhere to be seen, but the Garrison soldier who dragged her to her feet gave her no time to look back before she was thrust onto the boat along with the last wave of passengers.
Now, staring up at the Colossal once again, she felt that same fear rush through her body like a crashing wave. She was older now. She was stronger now, and she should have steeled herself to face the oncoming threat, but as it shifted its huge bloodshot eyes to look in her direction, she felt like a frightened child again.
“No, no, no,” she said over and over like a mantra, like a prayer that this was all a terrible dream. “Please, not again.”
She did not stick around long enough to watch as it lifted its massive, sinewy leg and took down the gate just as easily as it had five years before. Y/n took off towards the district supply building, awaiting new orders, but she took one last look at the monster, at the expression on his face.
If such a disgusting mass of muscle and bone could express anything, she swore she saw some discomfort in its clenched jaw. There was an uneasiness behind its eyes. All titans somewhat resembled humans, despite obvious physical distortions and the lack of certain organs, but part of their terror was their sheer similarity. It was the emptiness behind a titan’s eyes that marked them as other, that separated them from the humans that fled from them.
The Colossal Titan did not have that emptiness. It was smarter than the rest, she was sure, but she dared not think that it could feel.
Y/n turned on heel and took off, searching for her friends amidst the chaos.
“Annie, have you seen Bertolt?”
“I don’t know,” Annie responded, without so much as turning to look at y/n as she spoke.
“I can’t find him, I—I hope he’s okay.”
“Bertolt is strong,” Armin assured her, though the look in his eyes suggested that he didn’t quite believe himself. “I’m sure he’ll be alright.”
“I hope so.”
It was hours later when she finally found him, descending from a rooftop after felling a 10-meter. When she spotted him, she ran, not even giving him the courtesy of a think fast as she tackled him to the ground.
“Y/n, oh my god,” he huffed as they hit the ground. “You’re safe, you’re okay. God, I’m so happy to see you.”
“I didn’t know where you were, Bertolt, I was so worried.”
“I’m alright. But how is it that I always end up on the ground when you show up?”
She giggled as she moved off of him, saying, “Sorry. I just got excited to see you. I just… I’m just really happy that you’re safe. I was afraid I would never see you again.” She went to stand up, but his hands pulled her back down to the ground to sit beside him, if even for just a brief moment of peace before another titan clouded the sun above them.
“I’m sorry I worried you. I was worried about you, too. I’m glad you’re safe. I want you to always be safe.”
His admission was far too tender for the circumstance. She felt it warm her, lifting her expression into a genuine smile, but neither of them had time to assess the feeling. There were far more pressing issues to deal with.
“Let’s stick together, Bertolt. Okay?”
“Of course.”
~
Dear y/n,
I am so sorry.
I grieve every day for the life I could have had if I had not been born in Liberio, if I had not set out to become a warrior, if I had never received this curse. I grieve every day for the life we could have lived together. I am sorry that I can never give to you all that I want to.
Most days, I try to think of you in sunlight. I try to imagine you alive, with your head held high. I imagine you happy, surrounded by friends, never wanting for anything. I imagine you without me, because a future where we are together can ever come to pass. I know that I have to let you go, so I think of you living a fulfilling life where I am not present.
I can’t help that I dream of you, too. I can’t help that after I fall asleep, I see a future where we can be happy together. I dream of you on quiet rainy days, lying in my arms and reading a book. I dream of you visiting my hometown and meeting my father. I dream of him telling me how proud he is that I found someone so perfect to love.
I grieve every day for the happiness we could have had together, but I hope that you can still find that happiness without me. I know that you will. I know that you are strong.
All my love,
                                                                                                                                Bertolt
~
When she found him, he was trying his best not to be found. He had crouched to sit on a small box in the storage room, his height reduced by more than half as his knees rose to meet his chin. It was almost comical, had he not been in obvious distress. His face was pressed into his palms, his elbows digging uncomfortably into his knees.
“Oh, sorry, Bertolt,” she muttered absentmindedly, focused intently on locating the shipment of gas canisters she had been assigned to find. When he didn’t respond, she peered at him from behind a storage shelf. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” he answered quickly, pulling himself together and sitting upright, though it was hardly convincing. “I just needed a moment.”
“I hope I’m not intruding on your moment. I just need to find a box, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Unless you want to talk about it, in which case, I’m happy to stay and talk.”
“I don’t want to force my problems onto you.”
Bertolt was sincere in his statement, but there was an underlying deception that only served to further sadden him. He did want someone to talk to, but y/n could not know the full truth. He could only share so much.
“You’re not forcing them. I’m the one who offered to listen. Do you want to talk about it?”
He did not speak, but bit the inside of his cheek and nodded as she came to sit down beside him, pulling up a box that was a bit bigger than his.
“There,” she spoke as she settled uncomfortably onto the crate. “Now I’m the same height as you. We’re on the same level. That means we can talk about anything you’d like to talk about, and I won’t judge you for any of it. If it’s someone else who’s made you upset, though, I can’t promise I won’t kick their ass.”
“Thank you, but there’s no need to beat anyone up over it. I’m just worried about the future, I guess.”
“Anything in specific, or just the future in general?”
“When I joined the military, I didn’t think I would make any friends other than Reiner and Annie. Now that I know everyone, it’s hard to go into battle and think that anyone might die at any time. After Trost, I realized that I wouldn’t know what to do if you got hurt, or if you didn’t come back.”
“Hmm, I see. I understand what you mean. It’s hard to watch your friends go out and risk their lives for this. The world is cruel, but we’ve all made the same decision to do something about it. It helps to know that everyone knew what they were signing up for. It’s not like we were tricked into joining the Scouts. If I die out there, I will have died in pursuit of something I believe in.”
He couldn’t look at her as she spoke. Her confidence was enviable, but it was more than confidence. Connie and Jean were confident, but they were brash and loud. Eren was confident, but he was reckless. Y/n was sure of herself, and it showed in the even tone of her voice. It showed in the way she so casually spoke of her own fate, and in the way she looked at him unabashedly when he couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact.
“I’m worried about Reiner,” he admitted, rushing the words out as though if he spoke fast enough, she might not hear it. She was a good listener, though, and as comforted as he felt when she accepted his fears with no judgement, he felt equally as vulnerable when he spoke about himself.
“Reiner is strong. He scored above you at graduation, remember? I’m sure Reiner can take care of himself. I know that you’re good friends, and it’s good to feel protective of the people you love, but if you truly trust him, you can trust that he will defend himself when the time comes.”
“I’m not worried about that. He’s… different. I don’t think he’s feeling well.”
“Oh. I see. Do you think he’s sick?”
Bertolt shook his head, becoming increasingly more desperate as he gained momentum.
“There’s something wrong with him, I think. Sometimes, he acts as though he’s a different person. He forgets things about our hometown, and about why we’re here.”
“Do you think it’s just his personality that’s changed, or do you think it’s some kind of mental illness?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him act like this before. I don’t even think anyone else notices it, because no one else has known him as long as I have. I try not to call him out on it, because I don’t want to startle him or embarrass him, but I’m afraid that he’ll forget who he is. I know I have to help him somehow, but I don’t know how. If I can’t help him, what will happen to him?”
Y/n’s brow furrowed as she hummed in thought, resting her chin in her hand and idly looking across the shelves, as though the answer to all of their problems could be found amongst the rations. Bertolt was innately nervous—he called himself a coward, but she could hardly agree to that—so it wasn’t uncommon for him to express his anxieties to her. Usually, a bit of honest reassurance and a few jokes would lighten his mood, and he would be back on track.
The look on his face was concerning. His lips downturned, his eyes watery and wavering, his arms clutching over his stomach—he looked as though he was going to be physically ill. She wasn’t sure if he wanted someone to listen, someone to advise, or someone to take action.
“Bertolt, I have to be honest with you,” she eventually settled, extending an open palm towards him as though coaxing a frightened animal. “I don’t know what to do in a situation like this. I don’t know Reiner like you do, but I know that you are someone he trusts implicitly. If you think it would help to talk through it with him, you should at least try.”
“Hmm,” Bertolt grunted. He wished to say something more astute, but the words would not come to him.
“But something else that you should consider, is that you are not fully responsible for Reiner.”
“But I—”
“You’re his friend. You’re a fellow soldier. If you want to help him, that is very admirable. I’m sure he’s grateful to have a friend as caring as you. But ultimately, if this is some kind of mental or medical issue, you’re not a doctor. You can help him and encourage him, but you can’t cure him. Do all that you are able, but don’t feel bad about what you can’t do. I’m sure Reiner would understand.”
“There has to be something I can do,” Bertolt uttered weakly. His voice broke as he spoke, and he felt pathetic.
He wasn’t only a soldier, but a warrior. He had surpassed dozens of other children his age, trained and studied ceaselessly, so that he might keep his father safe and make his homeland proud of him. He had been granted the power of the largest titan. With his transformation alone, he could destroy entire cities. With a single step, he could crush thousands.
What was he, when all of that was taken away? Bertolt Hoover was a whiny, nervous young man with no ambition. At least Reiner had the confidence to be a proper soldier and a proper friend. Even when he wasn’t armored, Reiner was strong beyond belief. The only reason Bertolt had made friends at all was because of Reiner. What would Bertolt be, if Reiner was no longer Reiner? Annie was in the Interior, and Marcel was dead. He would be alone. He would be only Bertolt, and that was certainly nothing impressive.
“Look at me, please,” y/n whispered as she took her outstretched palm and gently tapped her fingers on her underside of his chin. “Bertolt, you’re so sweet. You’re so good. We’re all so lucky to call you a friend. I think that might be the best thing you can do for Reiner. Be a good friend to him, like you already are. Don’t blame yourself. It might be hard to watch your friend go through something like that, but it’s not your fault. Understand?”
“I… I guess so.”
“That’s not a solid answer, Bertolt,” she admonished him with a laugh. Her hand still rested under his chin, and he found himself seeking the warmth of her palm like a cat leaning into a pet. “Try again?”
“It’s not my fault. I understand.” He wasn’t sure how, but he knew in his heart that he meant it.
“Good. I don’t know if I’ve actually helped you at all, but if you ever want to talk like this again, I’m always happy to talk to you.”
“Yes, you helped,” he rushed to tell her as she stood to finally gather the gas canisters. “I’m sorry I kept you so long. I hope you don’t get in trouble.”
“Ah, I doubt it,” she said as she stood and rolled her shoulders, cracking her arms behind her back. “I know I just spent the last few minutes telling you that other people aren’t your sole responsibility, but if I could borrow your height for a second—”
“Oh, of course!”
He hurried to his feet and carried the box down to her from the top shelf. Once it was safe in her arms, she gestured for him to lean down, so he did, learning to his right as though preparing to hear a secret. Instead of speaking, she planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Goodnight, Bertolt. Sleep well!”
“Oh, I—goodnight, y/n. Sleep well.”
She was already gone before he could reply. He was glad, though. He could not see his face, but he knew that it had to be bright red.
~
Dear y/n,
                 I don’t remember exactly when it was that I fell in love with you. It was a collection of little moments, I think. Maybe it was the first time you fell on top of me during training and flattened me like a pancake. I always thought it was funny how you described it the same way every time. “Flattened like a pancake” was such an odd phrase to me, but I grew to love it the more I heard you say it, and the more you actually did it.
I miss the times when I would hear you call out my name before running to leap on top of me. It was the first time I felt like someone was truly excited to see me. That was something that made me fall for you, too—physically and metaphorically, if you’ll pardon my bad joke.
I remember the morning I slept through breakfast, and you covered for me when Shadis yelled at me. You saved me one of your rolls from your breakfast so I wouldn’t be hungry during training. I remember asking you how I could repay you for your kindness, and you said that you didn’t do it in exchange for anything, but because we were friends.
There was the day we did training in the forest, and even though we were on opposite teams, you cheered for me when my team won more points than yours.
You listened to me every time I spoke to you, and you always gave me thoughtful advice. You knew when I needed to hear something serious and heartfelt, or when a joke would cheer me up. You knew when I needed space, or when I needed to be held. I could never understand how you knew what I needed without asking. When you said it was because you loved me, everything made sense. I knew what you meant, because I loved you too. I still do.
You are the only thing that has ever been mine.
When you said that you were mine, I couldn’t believe it. I don’t deserve to have you, but you told me over and over that you were mine, and that you would choose to be mine every day. You said that you would choose to be mine, even if I wasn’t yours. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I thought you must be crazy to think like that, but I accepted it, because I wanted you to be mine.
I gave up my body for my homeland, cut my life short so that my father could live in peace while I fought for a country that hated us. I dedicated my mind to my studies and to strategy. Every drop of my blood that was shed was shed for someone else. When I became a warrior, I no longer belonged to myself. When I became a soldier again on Paradis, I signed away my life and pledged devotion of my heart, but I never gave it. How could I, when you could take much better care of it?
All that I was belonged to someone else, but my heart belonged to you, and you were mine.
All my love,
                                                                                                                                Bertolt
~
Y/n had experienced her fair share of injury, but none of it was ever quite so painful or humiliating as the day she got smacked right out of the sky by one of the smallest titans she had ever seen.
The titan looked a bit like Armin, if she was being honest—shoulder-length blond haircut, big blue eyes, unimpressive height. That didn’t take away from the uncanny grin it bore on its distorted face. That didn’t detract from the terror she felt as it ran for her on its wrong-jointed legs, catching her at the exact moment she had intended to restock her gas and blades.
“C’mon, c’mon, shit,” she swore. As long as she could replace her gas, she could get away. She didn’t need to kill it, just to evade it until she could get some space. As soon as she had slid the new canisters into her gear, she pushed herself up from the ground to reach a nearby ledge that would just barely clear the titan’s head, but the little runt was too fast. It whacked a pudgy hand through the air in an arc just wide enough to smack y/n clear out of the sky.
She landed face-first, head smacking the dirt with an uncomfortable thump that rattled whatever brain she had left inside her head. The titan didn’t pursue her, though, and y/n could only guess that some other Scout had stumbled upon her misfortune.
“You owe me, dumbass,” Ymir said as she made her landing just beside y/n, having split open the titan’s nape mere seconds before. “You’re going to let that fucking thing kill you?”
“Maybe,” was all y/n whispered before she blacked out.
When she came to, the sounds of voices blurred all around her. She couldn’t tell who was around her, or how many there were, but she could pick out at least a few distinct tones.
“I’m sure she’ll be awake soon.”
“She got hit pretty hard, though. Right Ymir?”
“Yeah, idiot got smacked out of the sky. She’s lucky I was there to take care of it.”
“Ymir, don’t be cruel. Accidents happen, and you’ve had your fair share of incidents with titans.”
“She’ll be okay though, right?”
“She’s not dead. Look, you can see that she’s breathing.”
“Right. But after that, what if she… she won’t be permanently hurt, will she?”
“No, but she’ll have one hell of a headache.”
She did have one hell of a headache, so much so that she didn’t want to open her eyes, but she figured that she would put her friends out of their misery.
“Look, she’s waking up,” Jean announced, a bit too loudly for her comfort.
“I’ll go get some painkillers.”
Krista rushed from the room, but every head remained fixated on the pitiful patient laid out on the medical cot, squirming uncomfortably at both the pain and the attention. Aside from Jean and Krista, Ymir was also there, as was Bertolt, who sat closest to her with his arms folded on the edge of her cot.
“Y/n,” he whispered, unsure of what to say but burdened that he ought to say something to her. “You’re awake.”
“Mmhmm, I am.”
“I was really worried about you.”
Bertolt kept his voice low. He knew that the others could hear him, but he wished they would all turn away. He wanted to be selfish in that moment, to have all of y/n’s time for himself. When Ymir had showed up at the base with y/n slung over her shoulder, he had panicked. She had looked dead. When Ymir had slung her down onto a medical cot, and he had finally found her pulse when he pressed two fingers to her wrist, he had nearly wept with relief.
“I’m alright,” y/n sighed dreamily, stirring only when Krista returned with the painkillers. “I got whacked.”
“You did, you got whacked. You hit the ground pretty hard.”
“Yeah, that hurt really bad. I got… I got flattened like a pancake.”
Despite the worry that still sat heavy right at the center of his chest, he smiled. He was so wrapped up in her that he did not notice the others, smiling knowingly at one another before leaving them be.
“How are you feeling?”
“Hmm, the painkillers are helping. I feel all stiff, though. I landed funny on my arms.”
She lifted an arm and for the first time realized that her hand was wrapped in gauze. Her other arm appeared unscathed, but the sting suggested that she had skidded heavily against some rocks before making her landing.
“They had to pull some twigs from your arm,” Bertolt explained to her, taking her hand in his when she winced at her own movement. “You were pretty beat up when Ymir brought you back, but thankfully, it’s nothing that they couldn’t fix.”
“I still have all my limbs?”
“You still have all your limbs, yes.”
His thumb rubbed soothing circles against the back of her hand as he peered at her, looking up through his pretty lashes. He was awfully pretty. His hair had grown in the last few months, but she liked it. The ends fell in front of his face and softened his sharp features. His nose was elegant, aquiline. He could have been a noble, living in the lap of luxury in the Interior, but instead, he was a soldier at her bedside, holding her hand and batting his eyes and looking at her as though she were the only luxury to covet.
“You need to be more careful next time,” he admonished lightly. “You could have died.”
“I’m alright, Bertolt. Just a stupid mistake. I’ll try not to do it again.”
“Please, don’t scare me like that. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
“I’m sure you’d be alright. I’m nothing to get all worked up over.”
“You are. You mean so much to me, I—y/n, I can’t explain to you how much you mean to me. I care about you more than anything. I want to protect you, and keep you safe. I want… I want to do something stupid, y/n.”
“Hmm? What kind of stupid?”
“I don’t know. But it’s like you told me, weeks ago—confidence isn’t about always getting everything right. Confidence is about making a choice that I believe in, regardless of the consequences.”
“Alright. Should we get a healer first, then? Are you about to do something medically dangerous? I suppose it helps that we’re in the medical wing.”
He didn’t answer. Before she could question him further, he had already planted a soft kiss to her lips and backed away embarrassed.
“Wait—don’t leave, Bertolt, come back,” she called after him. He had already begun standing up, assuming the worst.
“I’m sorry, y/n, I shouldn’t have done that when you’re not feeling well. I probably shouldn’t have done it at all. I’ll leave you alone.”
“Bertolt, don’t leave. Please, come back.”
“You should rest. I did something stupid, and now I have to go figure out how I can make it right afterwards.”
“Bertolt, I want you to do it again.”
“What?”
He froze mid-step. Her bandaged hand was latched onto his shirt, lightly tugging at him like a small child, begging him to stay but not having the strength to force him. He stammered. He couldn’t process the fact that he had just kissed her, much less the fact that she wanted him to do it again.
Did that mean she liked it? Did that mean she liked him? Surely, there was no other reason to request a kiss besides attraction, but she had suffered a head injury earlier that day. Perhaps she wasn’t in her right mind.
“I want to go back to sleep, but I want you to stay here with me. Will you give me another kiss before I go back to sleep?”
“I—yes, if that’s alright with you.”
“It is. I’m the one who asked for it.”
“Okay, then.”
He took his seat beside her again, shaking with nerves but buzzing with the anticipation of it. The first kiss had been so brief that he could hardly appreciate it, but however brief, it had managed to make him feel like he was floating, drifting through the air unanchored and unburdened. The second kiss was a bit longer, a bit firmer, and she accepted it with a smile on her face.
“Thank you, Bertolt. Will you still be here when I wake up?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, y/n. Sweet dreams.”
~
Dear y/n,
I don’t know how much you know about my homeland. I don’t know if you’ve ever even heard of it. There’s a lot more going on than you might think, and a lot of it is not pleasant. I am hated there, so is Reiner, so is Annie. The only reason we can live decent lives is by becoming warriors. If we use the power of the titans to protect our homeland, our families can live in peace.
The world is cruel. I doubt I need to remind you of this.
When you asked me about the ocean, I began to believe that the world was beautiful, too. I dreamed of taking you for a walk by the sea, watching you in the sunlight, watching you laugh as you played in the water.
I wanted to tell you that I have visited the ocean before, and that it is very real. All that Armin said about it is true, but words and pictures can’t capture the way it makes you feel. I took it for granted before I lived on Paradis. I should have appreciated it more while I had the chance.
I’m sure that you all will find it, someday. I wish I could be there to see the sunshine on your face. I know you will be beautiful.
All my love,
                                                                                                                                Bertolt
~
“Y/n, stay close to me.”
“I’m right behind you. And I also have my very own swords, so I’ll be alright.”
“I know,” Bertolt agreed reluctantly. When he turned to illuminate her face by the light of his lantern, she was grinning up at him. Even in shadow, she was lovely. “But it helps to know that you’re close. Stay with me, please?”
“I will,” she promised, quietly so that no one else could hear. “Lucky for me, you’re easy to find in a crowd.”
The length of their cloaks concealed their hands, held tight and swinging between them as they walked the perimeter of Wall Rose. Since their first kiss, they had come to the mutual decision that pursuing a steady relationship would be unwise. That didn’t mean that they refrained from holding hands whenever possible, and sharing the occasional kiss when circumstances allowed.
Bertolt knew he was living on borrowed time. The Survey Corps was closing in on Annie. Titans had appeared within Wall Rose, and though there was no breach to speak of in the wall itself, Bertolt was almost sure he knew exactly what had happened to the inhabitants of Ragako Village. He hadn’t been able to look Connie in the eye.
When he had watched Ymir transform, he knew that he was in the midst of a problem that he and Reiner could not handle alone. All the time he had spent idle, savoring the time he could pretend he was not a warrior, was long past.
It drove him mad to know that y/n was still holding his hand, despite all that he was, despite all that he would inevitably have to do.
Didn’t she know? Couldn’t she tell? She looked into his eyes so often, telling him that their color was so beautiful, that he seemed to hold so much love in just his eyes. Couldn’t she see behind it all? Surely, she could tell that behind all the love he held for her, there was a boiling mass of guilt that weighed his every action.
“That’s so strange,” she mused quietly as she lifted her lantern, illuminating yet another untouched portion of the wall. “I don’t see anything, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Hold on—there’s a little spot up there. See it?”
“I think so. Right above that brick?”
“Yes, right there. Lift me up, please?”
He ducked down, allowing her to clamber on top of his shoulders, as she had done several times before. She liked to use him as a ladder at times, or as a step-stool, and he happily obliged just to feel her close, just to hear her giggle as he adjusted her to sit on his shoulders.
“Hmm, I think it was just a trick of the light. You can put me down now, Bertolt, thank you.”
He carefully hoisted her down, letting her stop on the way to place a grateful kiss to his nose. They walked in silence for the next few minutes, enjoying the calm of the evening after such a chaotic day, but Bertolt still could not quiet the unease that sat in his stomach.
“Y/n, I think that things are about to change,” he said, forthright and confident—he had nothing to fear in her presence. He did not have to dilute his worries in front of her. “Today was difficult, and I think it’s only going to get worse from here.”
As she turned to him, her face was broken into shadow in the low light, her furrowed brow and scrunched nose creating shadowed planes across her pensive face.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. I’m not even sure what to think about everything that happened today, honestly. It’s kind of scary. I guess that’s what we signed up for, though, right?”
“Yeah. Right. But y/n, if something happens to me, you’ll be okay.”
“What? Don’t talk like that, Bertolt. I don’t want to think like that right now.”
“Look at me, please,” he said, tugging on her arm to catch her attention. The dark sheltered them from the prying eyes of their friends, so he pulled her to his chest. “I’m not saying that something will happen to me, or that something will happen to you, but if it does, you’ll be okay.”
“I know. I will be okay. I try to be prepared for it. I know that it’s coming. Not all of our friends will make it out of this alive, and I know that, but it’s hard to think that it might be you. You’ll try your best to stay alive, though, right?”
“I will, if that’s what you want.”
“I do, but I want you to want that. You should stay alive for yourself, not for me,” she playfully admonished him, burying her forehead into his chest and relishing in the sound of his beating heart. “And if I’m the one who dies first, I want you to be okay.”
“I don’t even want to think about that, y/n, I… I love you. I love you, and I want you to be safe.”
“I love you, too.”
It was the first time they had exchanged those words, but it hardly felt out of the ordinary. It was more an observation that anything, as though recognizing that the sky was blue or that the sun was bright. Had they never said it aloud, it would not have made it untrue.
The world was cruel. Bertolt knew this as well as anyone. But as long as there was love to be found in the quiet corners of the world, he could find a reason to survive it.
~
Dear y/n,
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
~
“I’m the Armored Titan, and Bertolt is the Colossal.”
Reiner had well and thoroughly lost it, and no amount of damage control that Bertolt could muster would save them from the confrontation that would inevitably take place. He gritted his teeth and tried to convince his friends that Reiner was telling a poorly-timed joke, but the tension had already risen beyond breaking point.
He didn’t want to transform. His transformation wasn’t a pleasant experience, nor was the aftermath of it all, but for a brief moment, Reiner had been restored.
Reiner had turned to Bertolt, looked him in the eye, and told him that he intended to fulfill the mission for which they had trained for so many years. In that moment, he was Reiner Braun, Marleyan Warrior, hero to his family and his homeland. It had been enough to convince Bertolt to follow through.
“Are you a soldier, or are you a warrior?” Reiner had asked him, leaning in close before the wall erupted in a flash of light.
Now, all he could see below him was rubble and steam. Little figures buzzed around the wall like flies, but he knew that none of them could come close to him with the sheer amount of heat that radiated from him. He was disgusting, and he knew it. The Colossal Titan was not strong and terrifying like the Armored, or lithe and quick like the Female or Attack. He was a mass of open muscle and bone. He was ugly, and his actions were as well.
Through the chaos, he could not see the single figure that pressed forward towards him, held back only by her comrades.
“Y/n, you can’t get any closer, I’m sorry,” Jean yelled to her through the noise. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“No, no, please,” she gasped. The heat was sweltering on her skin, but she knew she could get closer. Even if she could get close enough to look him in the eye, maybe she could do something. “Let me go, let me see him.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Connie shouted. “He’s the enemy, now. He’ll kill you if you get any closer.”
He wouldn’t. She wanted to believe that, but she couldn’t she sure. If she was enough of an obstruction to his mission, would he crush her? Would he bury her in rubble and leave her to be eaten by a meandering titan?
“Bertolt!” she shrieked, but the sound did not reach him. He was too far away, and he was too far gone.
~
Dear y/n,
I think I am losing myself.
Do you remember what I told you about Reiner? He seemed like two different people at times. I couldn’t explain it to you properly then, but I understand it now. He couldn’t reconcile the respect he had for his fellow soldiers with the terrible things he had done. There were times that I looked at Eren, knowing that it was my actions that led to his mother’s death, and I wished that I could separate that from myself, that I could be an entirely new person who had never committed such atrocities.
I feel the weight of my actions now more than ever, but I do not have the luxury of losing my mind. I am all too aware of the things I have done, and the things I must do.
If there is ever a way I can make any of it right, I pray that I will have the courage to take that chance.
All my love,
                                                                                                                                Bertolt
~
Bertolt had been right about the ocean.
Even if he had tried to describe it, y/n was sure that nothing could compare to the feeling that bubbled in her chest, the way the sunlight shined like gold across the laughing faces of her friends. She couldn’t help but smile herself, despite the sadness that weighed heavy on her with every step across the shore.
They had been talking about eating Bertolt as though it was the only option. The Commander should eat Bertolt, Armin should eat Bertolt, someone had to eat Bertolt.
They could have let him live, she thought. They could have waited until he had woken up, tried to bargain with him. He could keep his life, if he would come back to Paradis.
She knew it was an untenable position. No one would have listened to her if she had spoken it aloud. She only would have been mocked as a lovesick fool, but she was alright with that. Being a lovesick fool had kept her alive that long; surely, it couldn’t hurt to live in that delusion a little longer, at least.
When Armin—the thing that was supposedly Armin—had crawled onto the rooftop, she had closed her eyes and covered her ears like a frightened child in a thunderstorm. She didn’t need to see how Bertolt fought to get away, or to hear how he cried out for help in his final moments.
“You’re thinking about him,” Mikasa spoke up from beside her. “Don’t.”
“I can’t really help it, can I?”
“You two were close. I’m sorry that things happened the way they did.”
Y/n couldn’t blame Mikasa for her nature. She wasn’t one to dilute her opinions or hold back her emotion, particularly where Eren was involved. Bertolt’s death was just another number in among the hundreds who had died to keep Eren safe, and while y/n couldn’t disagree with Eren’s importance, she wasn’t keen to look over the incident entirely.
“I know, Mikasa. I’ll try not to think of it too much. And if I do, I’ll only use it to push forward. That’s the only direction we can go from here, right? We can only go forward.”
“That’s… an admirable way to look at it.”
~
Dear y/n,
I can hear you outside the wall. Even when you’re shouting, your voice is so pretty.
I don’t know if I’ll live through the day, but I want you to know something important. Even after I am dead, my memory of you will live on in the next colossal titan. For thousands of years, anyone who inherits this power will see you in their memory.
They might not know who you are, or why they remember you, but they will know that you are brilliant and beautiful and kind. They will know that you are loved, and they will know that I loved you.
I hope that this will keep you safe. I hope that the next doomed fool who takes this power will recognize you, and will protect you.
The fighting outside is getting closer. I don’t know how this will end. I don’t know what I will do, even in the next few seconds, but I am reassured by the sound of your voice. As long as I can hear you fighting, I can know that you are still alive.
I hope that you will not have to see me as I die, but I want your face to be the last thing I see.
I have said it before, but I will say it again, and I will say it as many times as I can before I die: I love you.
I love you, and I hope
~
She tugged uncomfortably at the strap on her waist, the one that kept her skirts from falling to her ankles. It was a bit too snug, but she couldn’t afford to be picky, under the circumstances. She was already unaccustomed to wearing skirts at all, given that her usual attire consisted of knee-high boots and gear straps.
She stuck beside her group for the most part, not wanting to get lost or discovered in such a dangerous place, but she couldn’t help but linger around familiar places.
Y/n had never been to Liberio, of course, but she could recognize all the little details Bertolt had described in his letters. She had long since given up the wish that he could be there with her, but as she looked over the marketplace, the pang of yearning struck her suddenly.
“He loved you,” Armin said, low but clear even under the noise of the bustling street.
“Armin, I—”
“I mean, he really loved you. He loved you.”
“Armin, that’s—”
“He thought about marrying you, and spending the rest of his life with you. He thought about running away with you, and—”
“Armin, that’s enough. Thank you for whatever it is you’re trying to do, but every time I look at you, I have to try to forget that you consumed the love of my life, and you’re not making it any easier on me.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Just don’t do it again, please.”
Armin left her alone, but she could feel his sympathetic gazes on her for the rest of the day. She could never be sure exactly how much about her that Armin knew, or how much he felt for her. He didn’t seem to retain quite the same feelings that Bertolt had for her, but sometimes, when he looked at her, there was a curious softness to his eyes.
Armin didn’t love her, but he knew what loving her felt like.
Y/n clutched the roll of paper that she had hidden in her bag. She hadn’t told anyone that she had it, but it wasn’t their business anyway. She wasn’t even sure where she would put it—throw it in the ocean, perhaps, or leave it in a tree hollow. It would never reach its intended audience, no matter where she put it.
It wasn’t until they reached a quiet corner of the city, hidden away from the markets and the boardwalk, that she found the right place. A row of simple plaques set into stone, honoring the warriors who had given their lives for Marley, sat in the middle of an unimpressive garden, behind an unexciting building. It was clear just how little the Marleyans regarded Eldians, even when bestowed with the power of the titans, even when their blood was spilt on foreign ground and in lonely places.
She pulled the note from her bag and buried it just beside the stone, under a bush where likely no one would be digging it up.
Dear Bertolt,
I’ve made it to your hometown.
I read all of your letters, and there is so much that I want to say to you. I don’t know if I can ever express it to you in words. When we sat together in silence, that was always enough. None of the words I spoke to you ever meant as much as the time we spent together, as the unspoken conversations we had.
I don’t know that I will ever understand what you did or why you did it, but I don’t need to. By this point, I have done plenty of things that I am not proud of. I know now that in the coming days, I will have to do terrible things. I am doing it to survive, as I always have. I am doing it for the lives of my friends, and the lives of all those on Paradis. I know that if you could read these words, you would understand.
Liberio is beautiful. The people here are lively, and the market is full of little treasures that I would love to bring home with me. I’m sure I will leave with my pockets full of souvenirs. I understand why you would want to protect this place.
I wondered if I might meet your father while I am here, but I don’t think it would be wise to look for him. If he is still alive, he might still be in danger simply because he is Eldian. I am having a hard enough time concealing my own identity. I would not want him to be caught up in our schemes. I would like to tell him that he can be proud of his son. I would like to tell him that you died defending your friends and your home, and that even when lost in a land of strangers, you managed to find love and beauty and small moments of peace.
Most importantly, I want to tell you this: I loved you, I love you, and I will always love you.
Your sins are not so great that they could ever erase that truth from my heart.
I do not know what awaits any of us after death, but if there is a place where I can meet you again, wait for me there. I’ll come find you when my time is through. When we meet again, we can forget all of it. I will forgive all that you have done, if you promise not to judge me for what I now must do.
Until then, rest in peace, and know that my heart is yours.
                                                                                                                             All my love,
                                                                                                                                 Y/n
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A/N: Thought this went without saying but, this is an act of fiction. Minors are never welcome on this blog, this is for entertainment purposes only and god wtf is wrong with you that I have to say this but this is not for sex education? If you're not mature enough to know a work of fiction is simply a work of fiction and not 'miss information' you're not mature enough to read smut.
Summary: After months of being unable to properly be together, you have worked up quite an appetite for your lover. It's a shame he's not really in the mood. However, states aren't always permanent and he never could resist you when you sounded like that.
Word count: 3226
Warnings: Smut
AO3 Masterlist
There was only so much you could do, there was only so much you could handle. The pair of you hadn't had any time together for what must have been months, mission after mission, constantly separated, so intimacy was out of the picture. 
  So when the pair of you finally had time off together, you knew exactly what you wanted. It seemed he knew exactly what he wanted as well. The pair of you had only been home for about ten minutes and he was already in the bedroom. It always made you smile, how in sync the pair of you were. Or so you thought, until you opened the door.
  Gaz had turned his switch on and Stardew Valley lit up on the tv. Your smile dropped, only for a second. His gaze shifted to you and he smiled kindly at you. 
  "Hey wanna come play?"
  Your feet were slow on the carpet as you slowly slid onto the bed next to him. 
  "Mmm, I had a different idea of what we could play." Your voice purred out and his eyes went back to the TV. 
  "Oh we could play Animal Crossing if you like, or maybe Mario Party but I'm not sure how fun it's going to be just the pair of us." 
  "I'm thinking more along the lines of Smashing." Your fingers hovered over the centre of his button-up for a moment. 
  "You hate Smash though- oh." His eyes shifted towards you and he swallowed when your fingers popped open his button and slid your hand on his chest. 
  Kyle cleared his throat and caught your hand before he pulled it away. "Not tonight, just wanna play. Maybe tomorrow?" The rejection hurt, just a little. But what really snapped was the burning desire that had slowly built up over the months. You pulled your hand back as if he burnt you, the reaction didn't go unnoticed and he let out a small sound. 
  "Babe, you know it's not like that. I'm just not in the mood and pretty tired I still love you-"
  "Kyle, it's fine." Your head lifted and you gave him a reassuring look "You do your thing and I'll do mine." Gaz's eyes looked away from yours but he nodded. A deep breath exhaled out from your lips and your eyes snapped to your side table. 
  Gaz tried not to stare at you the entire time your hands fumbled with the drawer. Shaking from pure desire, it wasn't easy for you to find the vibrator hidden away in the storage. Eventually, your finger made contact with the soft touch of its velvet bag and you yanked it out. A moment of silence ran between the pair of you when you sat down at the edge of the bed. When you looked up you saw that Gaz's eyes were on yours. Then they went down to the bag in your hand. 
  You couldn't help the heat that formed over your cheeks. Now that he was watching you with a complete lack of desire or arousal, you couldn't help but feel a little shamed at the fact. He had seen it many times before, walked in on you, even joined you time and time before but this was different, this time you were dirty and he wasn't. 
  "I'll- I'll head to the living room." You pointed with your thumb and abruptly got up and practically ran out of the shared room. The door behind you was slapped closed and your back made contact as your heart raced. His blank expression raced in your head, mixed with the sting of rejection, both had you let out a small groan that turned into a whimper. 
  That shame couldn't control you for long, slowly you looked down and the vibrator slid from the small bag and reminded you of that crushing core that demanded attention. Vibrator in your right hand, your left hand slowly drifted down to your clothed cunt. Your eyes closed and you bit your left pointer finger. 
  Tension left your shoulders and they dropped when your hand slipped the waistband of your pants. Just that little touch gave you so much. Your eyes snapped open towards the open curtains and you ripped your hands away from yourself. 
  You needed relief and you needed it right there and then. The curtains were promptly snapped closed and you threw the toy on the couch so you had free hands to remove your clothing. First, you removed the t-shirt from your body and then the sports bra that had you let out a little sigh of relief. Next came your pants which were dumped on the ground.
    Almost completely bare, you flopped down on the couch and grabbed the vibrator. A quiet him started from the toy and you placed it against your clit with only your thin underwear as a barrier. Your eyes shut and your mind wandered to the way that Gaz would touch you. He would start off slow, his gentle hands on the outside of your thighs. They would run up and down, feeling you up as his tongue would dance over his teeth. 
  He'd plant his hands firmly against you, indenting your flesh with his fingers. With his nice grip on you, he would pull you into his lap slightly. Kyle would be slotted between your thighs while your back would remain on the cushions. The thought of his clothed cock grinding against your cunt had you mew out. An admittedly rather loud moan as one of your hands went to grace your hard nipple. 
  The pair of you would stay like that, grinding against each other. Kyle would have that pent-up look on his face, mixed pleasure due to the friction between the pair of you. The grip on your thighs would tighten and he'd curse out before doubling down and grinding even harder. 
  You arch your back and continue your breathy moans while the vibrator works on your clit. The grip on the vibrator becomes a little tighter as you feel a wave of pleasure spread throughout your core, it's not there for very long but it has you relaxing deep into the couch. 
  The vibrator slips under your underwear and you slowly start to tease your entrance with it, your clits far too sensitive to continue. It would only need a couple of moments before you could return to it. 
  Lost completely in your imagination, you didn't notice the bedroom door open. 
  The dip in the couch had you gasp out and your eyes flung open. Kyle stared into your eyes as he mounted you slightly. Your legs were between his knees while he supported himself with the couch using one hand. Gaz leaned over your body and his face was directly above yours. 
  "Kyle?" You were still a little hazy, confusion written across your face. 
  "Hey." He paused and his eyes flashed down for a moment. "You were being a little loud there."
  "S-sorry I'll uh try to be quieter." True to your word, your voice practically vanished at the end of your sentence. 
  There was a playful look on his face and he leaned a little closer. Then his lips made contact with yours. The kiss wasn't gentle by any means. It was rough and wet, sloppy and full of desire, Gaz taking the lead. You moaned into his touch and clenched your fist to prevent yourself from latching onto him like a bear trap. 
  "I thought you wanted to play on the Switch." The words mumble from your lips the second he pulls back and you hear him laugh slightly and his free hand ran through his hair. 
  "Fuck, with you over here moaning my name like that?" Your brows raised, you hadn't even realised you had been doing so. "I'm only human, babe."
  "Kyle you don't have to-" He shuts you up with the taste of his lips and you feel his hand wrap around yours -specifically the hand with your vibrator in it. 
  "Don't need this anymore huh? Ready for the real thing?" His brow wiggled and you bit your lip. At his assurance, you couldn't help but feel the joy bloom in your chest. That earlier pain of rejection washed away. 
  A playful smile broke out on your face as Gaz continued to hover just millimetres above your head. "I dunno Gaz, I think I might continue with this." Your grip on the toy tightened and you smirked at him. 
  "Cheek." 
  "Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?" Gaz pulled back slightly and cocked a brow at your challenge. His strong arms wrapped around your waist and suddenly picked you up. Your hand dropped the toy in preference to stable yourself in his grasp. Gaz pulled back with you and got off the couch where your legs wrapped around his hips. 
  "Thought you were happy with your toy, seems like you just threw it to the side now eh?"
  "Cause you picked me up you-" Your voice was cut off when Gaz's lips found your throat and messily kissed it, wetly kissing it as your head rolled back to give him better access. 
  "You said something?" He managed to muffle into your throat. A moan extracted from your lips was the only response he received and you could feel the way he smiled into your skin. 
  "You’re a bastard." The words left your mouth before he grabbed you and threw you onto the bed. You bounced a little and couldn't help the little laugh that escaped your mouth. Kyle had a rather predominant smile on his face before he kneeled down at the end of the bed. 
  Propped up on the bed with your elbows, you stare down at the man. He grabbed your ankles and grinned. A yank of your ankles had you surge forward where his hands kept your legs apart. Kyle's slender long fingers were stretched out over the inside of your thighs. Yet he didn't do much, he only rest his head on your right thigh where he took in the sight of you. 
  "You're gorgeous, you know that?" The devious smile on his face had softened and became one almost innocent. "Please don't take what I said earlier the wrong way." He clicked his tongue and glanced away for a second. "You're always super hot. I was just tired, you know? Felt like we never got a real break." 
  "Kyle…"
  He pressed a small kiss on the inside of your thigh. "It's like a tiredness in my bones. I mean I got a second wind when I heard yah going at it-" He gave you a wink with his smirk. "-But it's still lingering there. Think it's gonna be good to have some time off."
  "We don't have to if you're too tired darling. It's okay Kyle." 
  "Oh no, you're not getting out of this that easily." Gaz gave you little time to process his words before he turned his head slightly and bit down on the inside of your thigh. It wasn't very hard of a bite but the light pain on your soft tender flesh had you yelp regardless. 
  "You bitch!" You squeezed out and tore your legs from his grasp. Gaz's warm laughter filled the air as he climbed onto the bed after you. 
  "Oi get back here." He crawled up over the top of you and as his eyes made contact with yours, your movements slowed down until the pair of you were completely still. The smile on your face flattened and your lips parted slightly. 
  Gaz leaned in close to you, his skin brushed against your own.  "Got you." At his whisper, his lips crashed against yours. Like a bear trap, you sprung and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hand found your waist and wrapped his arm around it while he ground down against you. 
  Kyle hummed against your lips, his moans muffled against you and he rolled the pair of you until he was on his back. He manoeuvred your body until he had your thighs split apart over his legs. Seated on his lap, the pair of you parted for a second so he could remove his shirt. 
  It was flung to the edge of the room and you pressed your hands against his chest. You leaned down and pressed your lips against his. Nose brushed against yours and your forehead rolled forward to rest against his. Kyle's lips were always so impossibly soft, somehow he could kiss so rough and messy but always feel so gentle. 
  An intoxicating taste that was so unique to him, his lips on yours was something that you could never get tired of. Every touch always felt like seconds no matter how long of a moment you shared. 
  You rolled your hips down on him and he tore his face away from you. Gaz elected a hiss as his head tilted up and his eyes squeezed shut harder. "Fuck you sure know how to rile me up huh?" His voice was breathy and you felt his hand on you tighten. 
  His free hand tapped twice on the outside side of your thigh and you knew exactly what he was asking. You pushed up in your shins and disconnected your upper body from his. Kyle's eyes shamelessly explored your chest while he snapped out his belt from his pants and undid his pants. A groan of relief left his lips when he finally allowed his rock-hard cock freedom from its imprisonment. 
  A smug smile that suited his face well graced your sight while he tapped the end of his dick against your cunt. "I would ask if you're ready for me but look at you, your dripping." 
  With a roll of your eyes, you couldn't help the smile that curled your lips at his teasing tone. You steadied yourself with your hands still on his chest and he aligned himself at your entrance. Gaz opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything, you lowered your body and slid down around his cock. 
  "Fuck." He drew the word out and his hand flew to the side of your hip where he gripped tightly. "God, it's been too long."
  "Uh-huh." You tried to make your voice light and humorous like his teasing but the strain in your voice just had it come out as a needy moan. 
  You went to move rather quickly but his hand gripped you tight. "Need a second?" You blinked down and he let out a breath. 
  "Feel like I'm a teen again getting my first hard-on, damn." 
  “Oh yeah? What was teen Kyle like huh?”
  “Surprisingly naive.” He gave you a weak smile. “I don’t think I really started understanding how the world worked until I was, what like twenty-four?” His eyes trailed off. The back of your fingers brushed against his face and his attention was drawn from whatever troubled matter his mind set to.
  “I bet teen you was a cute one.” With that sentence alone he let out a laugh and his hand let go of your waist. “Oh sure I was but something tells me that you prefer the way that I am today. You opened your mouth to speak but he made a small thrust up into you to emphasise his statement. It had you let out a groan and you took matters into your own hands. Settled in place you started to roll your hips on his cock, pleasure shared between the pair of you.
Gaz always somehow managed to fit you so well. He took up every inch inside of you. A deep sensation that you swore you could feel in your chest. That cock, too thick and long managed to push against that perfect sweet spot inside of you because how could it not? No space untouched, he filled you to your very core. With every bounce, the tip caressed your cervix. Not in any way painful but a deep pleasure that had you whimpering out his name. 
  The pace wasn't fast but wasn't incredibly slow either. Every touch was as intense as the last and had you practically trembling on his cock. "Made for me weren't you? That's it, baby." With both of his hands on the outside side of your thighs where he rubbed your skin up and down, coaxing you to continue riding him. 
  "Not gonna lie though, not sure how long I can last tonight." He admitted. 
  "Too much?" 
  "Been too long." He groaned and swallowed. "You’re insane if you think that we are only going one round though." 
  "Oh?"
  "You wanted my dick, baby, now your gonna get it. Fuck." His hands gripped on purchase and he started to thrust himself up into you. Taking charge, you stilled your actions and allowed him to fuck up into you. He didn't push it in as deeply as you had under your control, that extra inch and a half being too much for you to take at such a hard and punishing pace. 
  He throbbed inside of you, pulsated inside of you. "God I really should slow down but, fuck, you feel so good." A determined look crossed his face but mixed with desperation. So close but so unsure if he should go over that edge. 
  "Cum for me Kyle." That purr of your voice had him groan out and lift you from his cock. Seconds later his wet dick smacked against your cunt and his seed burst. 
  It roped out over your stomach and chest. It wasn't just a little either. He painted your body white as his voice deepened in moans. Gaz never was the quiet type. Slowly, you wrapped your hand around his cock and gently pumped it, encouraging it to continue. Kyle cursed out your name and thrust into your hand a little, a mix of his cum and your slick coating the inside of your hand. 
  His dick stopped jerking and his body relaxed onto your shared bed. "Damn." He breathed out a laugh and ran his hand through his hair. "That's a lot huh?"
  "You think?" You smiled back at him and brushed your thumb over the top of his member. He let out a shiver that ran across his entire body.
  "Ah- too much give me a minute." His hand flinched towards your wrist and you let go of him. Kyle's eyes flickered down your painted body, fondness adorned his eyes and he couldn't help but grin at you. He was almost proud of himself in a way. He enjoyed the sight of you, that much was obvious but he enjoyed the sight of you so deliciously covered in his seed. 
  One of his hands reached up, his pointer finger extended out. With the flick of that finger, he smeared his cum over your nipple. A devilish look formed on your face and you grabbed the hand. You brought it up to your mouth where you sucked his finger clean. 
  Gaz's jaw parted and he let out a groan while his cock twitched with interest. "You're gonna be the death of me."
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hermits-that-craft · 1 month
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hey I know you've retired now (yay!) from here but on the off-chance you see this: I just had the mother of all double-take moments after earlier this month re-discovering a fic from the early, early days of my dsmp fandomhood that I had been searching for for years. I saved it in my browser to read when I needed a moment of comfort, anyway today was the day I finally cracked out staying with the traitor again and the absolute FACE I pulled when I got to the end and it said "follow me on tumblr (hermits-that-craft)" like WAIT HOLD ON this entire time it was you!! anyway I know it was like 3 chapters long but that fic is legendary to me. thank you for writing it all that time ago and thank you for leaving it on ao3 even after you left our sphere behind :)
jkbhjd im so glad you refound it! there is actually a fourth chapter, and there was plans for a longer fic, but i was writing this during some of my final exams for that year, so i never ended up finishing it!
honestly its very heartwarming that you still enjoy it! im glad you found that fic, i hope it continues to bring comfort for as long as you need it!
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geometricalien · 3 months
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I'm so fine <- the words of a liar after finding out one of her favorite fanfics has been deleted
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killerandhealerqueen · 7 months
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PSA
To all of my readers…my word app is currently not letting me create or edit any of my documents because I do not have a Microsoft 365 account. Fic updates will be on hold until I can either purchase a subscription or until I can find another work around.
Thank you for your patience and understanding,
Sass
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roguemonsterfucker · 5 months
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don't mind me i'm just watching some monsterfucker movies for 'research' purposes
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readingwriter92 · 4 months
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Alright impulse started Dresden files bc I bought one of the books and now im cured of my ennui
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secondsonaym · 1 year
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The Vessel Project - Shamura's Foreword + Fragility [Narinder 1]
(read on Ao3 here)
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This night marks one year since we came into power. Since we took the crowns for ourselves. Since we promised to do better than those we had overthrown.
  I am a contemplative person, assuredly, but my mind does not desire to dwell on that time. Though much of it was spent in the throes of belief, of devotion, that all proved to be wasted energy. The ones we trusted had been using us… Using everyone. 
  How do you think it feels… To find out the ones you had put so much trust in, the ones who promised to make everything better… Were in fact, doing the exact opposite, all to uphold their status quo.
  It’s devastating. And then, you pick up the pieces they dropped, and place the expectation on yourself to make something better from nothing but scraps.
  How does one wrench something holy from something so broken?
    I hate it.
    However… I cannot simply let it sit in me untouched. 
  So I am writing this record, with the assistance of my siblings to fill in the gaps, in the hopes that having it in a physical form will quiet the growing itch in my brain.
  I, Shamura, now bearer of the Purple Crown, bishop of War and Knowledge, commit this to writing:
    This is the story of five children and five birds.
  Five children who did not know of, nor deserved, the hell they would be put through.
  And the five birds that orchestrated it.
    This is the fall of the quintet that shall never be spoken of again… Lest the wounds they have marred the land with open back up.
    And hopefully… This will be the rise of those who broke free of their blind devotion in order to make the right choice for everyone in the land.
Fragility
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Shamura has turned the pen to me in order to start this recollection off. I suppose it is only fair, as I had ended up in the center of it all. Therefore, the actual beginning would start with my perspective. 
  I… Have not had the proper time to contemplate or process things myself, I must be frank. Unification of the sects has been very busy work, and the manner through which I acquired the Red Crown… Was harrowing.
  So forgive me if I ramble.
  It all began eight years ago, when I was but ten years old.
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    A hazy crackle split the air as I stared down the coast of the hill. Though it was the height of summer, the warmth I felt was not from the sun’s rays, but the burning town below. 
  The screams had stopped long ago. Everyone who had been in the town had either managed to flee or had succumbed to the heat and smoke, laying in the rubble and waiting to be found among the ashes at a later point.
  I was not from the town, no. I had been in my spot since before the fire started, and I watched it light up in the early hours of the morning. Nobody noticed me, and I ignored the distant screams for help.
  “What have you observed, Narinder?” Came the voice of the one who had started the blaze.
  “All it took was a spark.” I replied, not turning away, still transfixed by the colors of the flames. “One small ember, and the entire thing went up.”
  “Fragility,” He said, and I finally turned to face Him. “That is today’s lesson.”
  The fire-starter stood in the shade of a nearby tree, His snaking neck twisted down so his head would not catch in the branches. Amidst the dry greens of the surrounding area, His snow-white plumage and red-patterned robe stood out, even in the shadows.
  “Sir,” I began, my tail slowly waving as I considered my words, “How does fragility of a town apply to fragility of life?”
  “Think about it, boy.” He said, “A small mistake causing a fire just like this one… And that’s all it takes to kill any number of people. There’s no telling when it would happen. The same can be applied to mortal bodies.”
  “Bodies?”
  “A strike to the head a bit too hard… A blow at just the right spot in the spine… A stab from somebody’s concealed weapon. Things one cannot predict, nor act fast enough to defend against. One false step, and one’s life is forfeit. Much like that stray spark.”
  I looked back to the flames, pondering His words. I now understood just what He meant, but something gnawed at me.
  “What of the survivors?” I finally asked.
  “Mm? We let them live, of course. They won the draw. They were lucky. So they can carry on.”
  Lucky… That word stuck with me. That’s what He had said when we first met.
  I recalled why I was with Him to begin with: Raiders from the sect of Chaos, destroying the village I lived in, killing my family, and somehow leaving only me behind. He had taken notice, attracted by the death and finding me out in the wilderness all alone. He offered me a place by His side after hearing my story.
  “You are a lucky boy,” He had said, “to have seen so much death without even a scratch.”
  I had only been seven at the time, and in my grief refused to agree with Him. I did not believe my survival was lucky. It felt punishing. To be without those I had known my whole life.
  But three years later, as I watched the town steadily crumble into dust, I knew that He was right.
    The habits of life and death were fickle, and it was not that we channeled these forces by the act of existing, not at all. We pulled them up from the depths of the earth, and begged them to let us have the experience of the world. They wrote the terms of our stay, and when time was up, it was up. There was no fighting it.
  That was how He operated. He did not take lives directly, and instead left it up to chance. 
  “I am not a facilitator of the whims of the world.” He had explained one night, when I had asked Him why He refused to stain His hands. “I am merely the one who rolls the dice. If Death wishes to take what it is owed at that moment… Then so be it.”
  “It is time we head back to the temple.”
  My attention snapped back to the present when He finally spoke, arching His neck out from under the cover of the leaves. He took a few steps back the way we had come from, only pausing to see if I was following.
  I gave one final look to the scene below before I turned and hurried after Him.
  We walked in silence for a fair distance, my mind mulling over today’s lesson. Not all of the things He taught me were through demonstrations such as this, but it was usually ones of this manner that left me thinking on things longer.
  It was odd, His manner of teaching. He did not have me write notes or physically experiment with things around me, and instead merely had me observe the world as things happened. But I suppose that was to be expected, due to the nature of His sect.
  Of the Old Faith, the sect of Death was small and quiet compared to the others. Our Lord did not ask for loud, expressive devotion, and merely requested we observe Life and Death in their equilibrium. For Death was not something you could shed belief in. It was always there. 
  Acknowledgement of Death is an inherent belief in it.
“It’s laughable, how they must reinforce their belief through acts of flagellation.” He had commented, when we had once caught sight of a ritual of War. “But I suppose without that reinforcement, it simply wouldn’t exist. It does not exist unless it is manifested by the living.”
  The ritual was… brutal. A person, marked a ‘traitor’ by the rest, stood chained in place, while the worshippers of War circled them. One by one, a worshiper would approach and hold a knife, going for parts of the traitor as they screamed.
  “No eyes to look to the illusions of the enemy,” Said the one who gouged them out.
  “No ears to hear lies of the enemy,” Continued the next, slicing them free.
  They continued like that.
  “No tongue to parrot the falsehoods of the enemy,”
  “No fingers to hold the enemy’s weapon,”
  “No heart to be changed by the enemy’s fake promises.”
  With that final chant, the knife went into the traitor’s chest, and they stopped crying out. Blood pooled, creeping into the crevices of the stone below them.
  Though we watched, He did nothing. He did not need to mess with the body in order to claim the soul. It would come His way eventually.
“Narinder.” He suddenly spoke, once again pulling me from my thoughts. “Go hide in the shadows. Now.”
  I did not question Him. Without a word, I stepped quickly and softly into the dense shade of the treeline, standing still while fixing my eyes on Him.
  He stood still for a moment, long neck stretched towards the canopy. It would have been an unsettling sight, were you not used to Him.
  “Zuriel, darling, what is it you want?” He asked, a lingering touch of irritation in His voice.
  “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” Came His voice, right back at Him. But I had been watching Him the whole time, and His mouth had not moved in that instance.
  At once, a figure appeared out of the shade near Him, an unsettling mess of browns and greens, disorienting to the point I was unsure what I was looking at initially--But when I caught sight of the bright green diamond perched upon its head, I got a good idea as to the answer.
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      Zuriel, the bishop of Chaos. I had only ever heard of the other bishops through descriptions from Michael, but He had stressed that coming into contact with them was not a wise idea. No wonder He had told me to hide.
  “Why are you spreading death in my land, Michael?” The new arrival asked, still in His voice.
  It lowered its head, threading its beak into the scruff of plants it wore around its collar in a preening motion. It did not seem angry or impatient in any form, despite the question it had asked.
  “You should know why.” He replied coolly. “Death is fickle. Death is random. It just felt right.”
  “I do not care for your current fixation with fire.” It answered, eyes slowly raising back up to look at Him. “Reminds me too much of that time a few centuries ago where you had an interest in lightning strikes.”
  “Hah,” He laughed, but His voice was hollow. “It is merely what I am channeling my energy into, Zuriel. Worried I am encroaching on your domain of Chaos?” 
  “Three years is but a blink to the likes of us, Michael.” It said. “That’s why we can tell something has changed in you. Something has felt so suddenly… Wrong.”
  “Surely you did not come all this way to scold me.” Was all He said.
  “There is a summons for you.” Came its response after a slight pause. The voice it was using was different now, steady and controlled with some strange metallic tone.
  “Ah. From Raziel, why am I not surprised.” He sighed. “What does she want now?”
  “All of the bishops are requested.” Zuriel continued in its new voice. “To discuss the plans of the vessel project.”
  He was silent for a while, staring down at Zuriel and tilting His head at a few different angles. I saw Him steal a glance to where I hid, but He otherwise did not acknowledge me.
  “Why am I to be summoned?” He finally asked. “Raziel knows full well that I am not interested in her latest plans for power.”
  “You and Phanuel share these sentiments. But as long as our lives are, they are not eternal. We must consider other options. You are not expected to do anything, but you are required as a witness. Everyone else shall be bringing their selected disciples.”
  He let out a slow sigh, neck straightening fully to the point it hurt my neck to look up at Him. He stared into the overhanging leaves for a while, before finally coiling His neck again, looking down at Zuriel.
  “Very well. I assume the meeting place shall be Raziel’s temple?”
  “Correct. At moonrise.”
  “I will make my way when it is time, then. Thank you, Zuriel. May your day be as unpredictable as a rushing river .” He bowed His head, speaking the formal farewell of those in the Chaos sect--a gesture of politeness, on His part.
  “ And may you find calmness in night’s mimicry of the end. ” Zuriel returned with the words of our own sect, and the voice of Michael.
  And with that, Zuriel turned and vanished into the same shadows it had appeared from. 
  He stared after it for a while, and I could see spots on His neck where feathers were standing on end. He was angry, but trying His best not to show it. Whether that was out of mercy for me or that He simply didn’t find it productive, I did not know.
    “Narinder.” He called after a long moment, turning His head in my direction. I stepped out of my hiding spot and closer to His side, eyes wide with curiosity but hesitant to say anything.
  “Let us resume our return to the temple.” He mumbled. “When we get there, you are to study your verses for the rest of the evening. I have business to attend to, as you likely heard.”
  “What is the ‘vessel project?’” I couldn’t help but ask, though immediately clapped a paw over my mouth. How foolish, I thought, for being so nosy! He was surely to reprimand me, for slipping back into what was probably my most frustrating habit when I was younger.
  But He merely looked down at me for a moment, before pulling a taloned hand out from under His robe and setting it on my shoulder.
  “Curiosity killed the cat, Narinder.” He said, repeating the phrase I had heard so often in the past three years. “It is best you remain oblivious… If just to this one thing. Now, let’s be on our way.”
  We returned to the temple some time later, Michael using His power over shadows to make the otherwise long trek a matter of minutes. It was still early in the afternoon, but few others were present in the temple’s foyer. The ones who were, bowed their heads in reverence as He passed, though he paid them no mind, as he usually did.
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    “Welcome back, My Lord.” 
  As we reached the inner room of the temple, we found Ariel waiting for us. She was one of the acolytes in the temple, usually responsible for giving sermons to the followers and managing the temple’s upkeep. She also looked after me when Michael did not have any lessons..
  “Sister Ariel,” Michael nodded towards her. “I have business to attend to with the other bishops. I will be leaving just before moonrise, so I trust you will be able to look after the temple in my absence?”
  “Of course, My Lord.” Ariel agreed with a bow. “And what of Narinder?”
  “His lesson for the day is finished.” Michael explained. “He is to study verses until it is time for bed.”
  “Then I would be glad to assist him.” Ariel said as she turned to smile at me. I returned the gesture, though not as widely… Smiling just wasn’t something I was used to, is all.
  “I will be in my quarters making preparations, should you need me.” He said as He turned and began to walk to one of the large doors at the back of the temple. “But see to it that I am not disturbed by anyone else.”
  Ariel bowed until the door closed with its heavy thunk, and then turned to look at me once again.
“How was the lesson, Narinder?” She asked, moving to a nearby table and beginning to clear its clutter. She took a leather-bound book that sat between a pair of bookends and set it in the middle of the cleared space, before gesturing for me to take a seat on the bench in front of it.
  “Today’s lesson was about fragility.” I said as I sat down. “He set off a spark, and it caught on the wind, catching on the thatch roof of a building, and then… The entire town burned. We watched it for a while.”
  “Mm, quite a profound lesson to learn.” She hummed, opening the book and flipping a few of its pages. “And some of the townsfolk managed to escape, yes?”
  “Mhm. Lord Michael said they were lucky.”
  “That they were. But you recall one of the key tenets of Death, yes?”
  “ Life and Death intertwine. Where Life sits, Death is perched on its shoulder. Where Death walks, Life follows in its footsteps. ” I recited.
  Ariel looked down to me with slight smile, before taking her own seat next to me. She took another book from the bookends and began to carefully leaf through it, so I turned to the scripture she had set in front of me.
  They were lines I was already quite familiar with, but considering my instructions from Michael, I looked over them anyway.
  Do not worship Death without respect for it as well.
Those who do now acknowledge its place, 
who see it as malleable, 
go against the pillars of this land.
  To bring back what has Died,
To make it Live again,
Is an affront to how things should be.
Memento mori. Invideo vitae.
  Those last two phrases were at the end of many verses, and I had learned their meaning fairly quickly after arriving at the temple: Remember Death. Envy Life. 
  “Death is always present. You musn’t forget it, as horrible of a thing people may think it is.” Ariel had explained when I asked her upon first reading it. “Life is so much easier for people to embrace, that Death is often overshadowed in importance. If I were to explain it, I would say Death is jealous of how much people like Life. Death is not malicious, it merely exists. And yet everyone seems to fear it.”
  “You’re odd.” Ariel’s voice suddenly broke in, snapping me from my thoughts.
  “Wh-What do you mean?” I stammered, looking to her in surprise.
  “There!” She said, pointing at me. “That! You hardly ever act like that anymore. Ten years old, and you already have the pensiveness of… Well, somebody as old as Lord Michael! And you hardly ever ask questions anymore… When you first arrived, it was kind of hard to get you to stop.”
  Was that… Odd? 
  “I stopped asking questions because Lord Michael didn’t like them.” I mumbled, eyes turning back to the verses, but not really reading them. “He always seemed annoyed when I asked Him something. So I stopped.”
  “Then I’ll need to speak to Him about that.” She sighed. “You’re the first child to really come to the temple, so I wouldn’t be surprised if He’s a bit… Inexperienced, dealing with children.
  “Kids your age… Don’t really act like that, is all. Asking a lot of questions is normal. ” She continued, in a bit of an apologetic tone. “But I guess without other kids for you to hang out with, you’re instead picking things up from the adults around you.”
  She set a gentle hand on my head, giving me a few slow pats. The gesture was kind--much like Ariel herself--but I didn’t exactly feel much assurance from it.
  After a moment, she withdrew her hand and sighed, before going back to the book she had been looking through. Despite trying to focus on my assignment, I kept finding my eyes flicking back to her, noting flashes of color between the pages of her book.
  “What… Are you doing?” I finally asked, having to push the question past my lips, which instinctively tried to seal shut any form of question.
  Ariel smiled again, managing a laugh. She then moved her book over on the table so I could see, and I found my eyes widening in surprise.
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    Flowers… The pages were covered in several small flowers and petals, slightly dried and crinkly around the edges, but still recognizable. I carefully took the corner of the page and turned it, finding more of flowers of different species on the next page. 
  “It’s called flower pressing.” She explained as I slowly went through the book, taking time to examine each page. “You take a flower and press it between something, usually the pages of a book, to flatten it. It’s a method of preserving their beauty.”
  “And Lord Michael is fine with this?” I couldn’t help but ask. Wouldn’t something like this be considered against the teachings of Death? To keep something past its life?
  “Yes.” She answered. “In fact, He is the one who suggested it to me, when I expressed my interest in the blooms. The flowers are very much dead, Narinder, but they can still be acknowledged and admired even past that.”
  “Oh.” Was all I could really say in response. 
  I flipped through a few more pages, before pausing on one in particular, eyes shifting between it and Ariel’s clothing. The same bright red flowers she wore on her hip and collar were pressed on a page, striking against the pale color of the paper.
  “These are the same ones as your…”
  “They’re called camellias. There’s many of them on the temple grounds… I think they’re my personal favorite.”
  “They’re pretty.” I said with a nod, giving the book one last glance before closing it and sliding it back in her direction. “Thank you for letting me look.”
  “You’re welcome, Narinder.” Ariel said. “Perhaps you’d like to try it yourself at some point?”
  “Maybe.” Was all I said in response. I didn’t exactly see the point in the hobby other than it being, well, a hobby, so it wasn’t much to my interest. 
    I was about to turn back to my verses, when a sound split the air. Clutching my stomach, my fur stood on end, and my face flushed in embarrassment.
  “Narinder…” Ariel said, though her voice lacked any hostility. “When’s the last time you ate?”
  I lowered my head, hunching until my shoulders were level with my face. 
  “Um… I had breakfast before Lord Michael and I left.”
  “And you were out all day.”
  “Yeah.”
  “And you didn’t eat anything while you were out?”
  “No.”
  Ariel let out a loud sigh, brow furrowing slightly. 
  “Of course. Because He doesn’t get hungry, so it wouldn’t cross His mind that--” She started to grumble, before shaking her head to calm herself.
  She stood up from her seat, pushing her book of flowers aside before reaching out for my hand. I took it and stood up after her, and she then began to lead me in the direction of the temple’s kitchen.
  “Let’s get you some dinner, then. Is there anything in particular you’d like?”
  “Do we have any squid?” I couldn’t help but ask, eyes lighting up. 
  “Of course you wouldn’t miss the opportunity to have some.” She laughed. 
  “It’s my favorite.”
  “I know, I’m just teasing, dear. Well, let’s see if we can find any.”
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wayward-sherlock · 1 year
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copying and pasting what may be my best fic idea in a while:
i want to write a fic where the party (mostly Mike and will) have a night that they know will be a defining night of their childhood/teenage existence but if they acknowledge it too early they’ll begin to force things to happen so they’re in that weird in between of knowing that THIS is the night that will change their life and their views and will give them a deeper understanding of what it means to be free and to be human and not acknowledging any of those things at all because it will ruin the night if they think about it too much
…hm. (someone tell me to write it)
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no1ryomafan · 17 days
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I hope whoever thought it was a good idea for AO3 to not allow on mobile the ability of bold and Italic text to be carried over from a copy n paste doc even when you FUCKING SELECT HTML AND NOT PLAIN TEXT a very pleasant “I hope you were kicked off the staff” and I’m only half joking.
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I'm back at it again with a new chapter of A Thousand Steps Journey!!!!! I'm so happy!!!!!
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confetti-cat · 10 months
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For some reason I often forget to share with Tumblr that I do, in fact, write things more frequently than I post them here, so here's a piece I still like! A oneshot for Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (and some of the rest of the LoZ series).
time immemorial, remembered - (2k)
If he is a hero of anything, it's of a grown-over wild, a land where grasses spring up in fallen garrisons and every breath of wind carries the scent of old rains and new flowers and ancient wisps of forgotten memories.
He doesn't want to remember others. He doesn't want to recall lives that aren't his own.
(It's strange, when he remembers the wrong things.)
Set post-BotW - feat. friendly adventuring, a little bit of Link/Zelda fluff, and Link just wishing he could remember the pieces to his own puzzle. Written before TotK, so no spoilers for it. Enjoy!
AO3 link here!
It's strange, when he remembers the wrong things.
He knows he doesn't remember everything. He knows that, Zelda knows that (unfortunately—he tried, he's still trying; she deserves a knight who truly remembers her), Impa and Purah and Robbie know that, and the spirits of the King and Champions know that. He's working hard to regain his memories, and they all know that's the most he can do.
Still, it's hard not to wish his mind would do more when his sense of déjà vu doesn't always work correctly.
They're at the curl of the beach where Akkala overlooks the ocean, and while Zelda is gushing about her Sheikah Slate picture of a new rhino beetle, he's looking at the sand. Something stirs in his head, as he looks at the waves and the palm trees and thinks—you've been here.
The feeling is bittersweet but painful, like a memory of an odd dream. Yet it was clear—he'd woken up on the beach once and cleared caves for kind people and had walked a strange black dog on a chain. A big dog with big teeth.
"When did I shipwreck at sea?" he asks Zelda, because it doesn't quite fit with what he knows of his life in the past. Perhaps his father had taught him to sail—perhaps he'd gotten a small boat himself. Zelda has a clearer picture of his life than he does at this point.
Yet, she stares at him uncertainly, blinking once or twice.
"When did you... pardon?"
A wave of embarrassment rushes over him, because Zelda usually understands him perfectly, and—sheesh, maybe he hadn't spoken clearly. His voice catches in his throat sometimes. He tries not to look so ashamed as he restates his question. "...Didn't I shipwreck at sea, once?"
Zelda blinks at him, thoughts whirring through her eyes, and then she looks out at the beach and the palm trees and the ocean.
"...Not that I'm aware of," she says carefully, and Link reminds himself that they hadn't truly known each other until they were sixteen. "Perhaps it happened when you were young?"
He doesn't know. Something about it doesn't feel quite right, like it doesn't fit. It's a puzzle piece to the wrong puzzle.
So he shrugs and dismisses it, at least for now, though the images don't leave his mind.
It happens again when they're up at Shatterback Point, just in time for the sunset. The Zora reservoir glistens like molten sapphire below, and the mountain peaks all around them have a golden-purple sheen in the late afternoon light.
It's not that, though—it's the way it feels to have the world so far below, and to see wing feathers as eagles make lofty circles in the sky, and he has the silly thought of how maybe this is Hyrule, and everything else so far below is really just Lorule.
It doesn't really hit him until Zelda has found an excuse to poke fun at him, in a playful, friendly way that ends with her smirking at him and his back to the open air, stuck in the few inches between a princess and a freefall that would last ages.
He can't lean forward for balance because she's right there, and he certainly is not leaning backward, so there's really no other option than to cling to balance and try to stand rigidly.
His heart skips a beat, because he suddenly remembers this—staring nervously into the face of a blonde princess who has far too much fun spending time with him, and he knows what will happen. She's going to push him off, like she did when they were in the sky kingdom and he liked wearing tan and she looked a bit different.
But she doesn't push him. Zelda shrinks back a little and laughs in embarrassment at her actions—she was more sure of herself a hundred years ago in the sky, wasn't she? Or was it a hundred thousand?—and allows him to step away from the edge and toward the danger: high dive at your own risk! sign a safer distance from the open air.
(He thinks—and this is really him, the normal him—that if it didn't take so long to get back up here from the water far below, he would show her a swan dive.)
(Maybe they could both—no, no. It isn't called Shatterback Point for nothing. He somehow doubts that she shares his ideas of entertainment out here, anyway.)
"I apologize," this Zelda says in embarrassment, looking away so that he can only see the tips of her ears turning pink. "I don't know what came over me."
His brain is too bewildered by all the déjà vu to mind. He tells her it's fine, because it is—some part of him thinks it feels nice to recognize that they have something friendly and familiar. Even if it is a bit teasing, and even if it does make adrenaline shoot through his veins and his heart pump hard enough to ready him for a freefall.
It happens again at twilight, late after a long day in Hyrule Field. The sky is tinted purple, and flecks of grass and dust float by in the strong breeze.
A wolf is there, in a place Link doesn't usually see any. It's on the next hillside, and it stares at him, eyes reflecting yellow in the dim light of the receding day.
Link's limbs twitch as it turns and leaves, as if reenacting the gait of the wolf—as if feeling the sensation of controlling a wolf's movement, with four limbs pacing and a head turning to and fro. With a sturdy gait and mind set fast on a goal.
When Zelda mutters something nearly irritable at the cooking pot, he half expects to turn his head and see someone who's not Zelda.
It is Zelda, though; of course. He doesn't think he knows anyone else who talks half to him, half to herself. She looks quite frustrated with whatever she's trying to do to improve their meal, and by her muttering, you'd think she was trying to blame him for what he'd put in as the necessary base ingredients.
Well, excuuuse me, Princess, he almost teases to throw her sarcasm back at her, but his mind is suddenly giving him a wildly different case of déjà vu and he vows never to think of saying that again.
They're at a stable, and one of the travelers who loiter by the cooking-fire pulls a little round instrument out of his pack and begins to play a flutelike tune. Something in Link's chest jolts a bit, as if he's only just awoken suddenly, even though the melody doesn't quite feel right. Is it strange that the sound of the little wind instrument feels as though it sends him back to another time?
He tries to ignore the fact that all these nagging lapses in memories ever occur—but they happen again, and again, and again. Always with something strange, something he feels connected to, something he's sure he's never seen before.
He sees things like the Hyrule Forest—a towering, vast area of woods that he knows, even though he's barely been there before. He knows it well enough, at least, to sense that the path isn't the same anymore. Right, left, right, left, forward, left, right—
(He sees the view of Saria's Lake from a patch of grey land hidden deep in a dark forest, shrouded with mist and drained of all color. The lack of pleasant sound here seems stark and wrong to him, and amidst the gaping maws of dying trees, he wonders what's missing from the hollow space that's suddenly prominent in his own chest.)
He sees Zelda sitting cross-legged next to Impa, learning from her, and thinks about how this mentorship feels like something that's been in place for a long time.
He looks at the massive skeleton of a creature called leviathan, and his mind says Jabú-Jabú and Wind Fish and wait—did they die?
He loves the Zora people. He only remembers so much, but it's enough to know he grew up thinking of them like a second family—with King Dorephan as almost a non-Hylian grandfather, and all the young ones as his cousins and friends.
Yet still, when those same Zoras pop out of the river with wide grins to surprise him, there's moments where his heart skips a beat and he's drawn his sword and shield, ready to deflect their attacks.
Enemies! his instincts shout at him—and it hurts, because his heart and mind say friends.
Koroks are strange to him, somehow, and not because they're little plant creatures who can vanish into the wind with ease. He just really feels like one of them should have a fiddle. Hestu's maracas don't quite carry the same emotion in their tune. He finds himself looking twice at the smaller, rounder ones, but none of them quite look right.
(He finds himself standing on a tiny lump of land his slate calls Mekar Island, staring at the piles of bones and the lone dead tree in the middle and wondering why it gives him a vague sense of dread.)
He half expects Beedle to set up shop on a boat in Laurelin, for some reason. Melody comes to mind in Rito Village, when Kass's daughters all come together to sing. (Except melody doesn't sound quite right. Perhaps he's trying to think of something similar?) When he's helping Zelda organize the old library, he can't help but get an odd mental picture when he rereads the chancellor's recipe for monster cake—of a tiny castle official with two horns like a monster. (But how would he hide them while working at the castle? By wearing two hats? Wouldn't that look too silly?)
Except when Zelda is there to study, he avoids the castle's archives like a plague, somehow wary of what he might find there if he gives in and looks for answers to his blurry memories. Perhaps the old rumors of the heroes being the first one reincarnate are true. Or perhaps the physical rigor of fighting through so much malice has messed with his mind. He isn't sure which would be worse.
His memories are... muddled, still; at least where they're not as clear as daylight or so fuzzy they feel nonexistent. The Princess knows this. She tries to help jog his mind, holding the same hope he does that perhaps some of these things will be like a well-placed kick to Robbie's machinery, jostling something back into place that will return it to working order.
But she's left it to him, lately, seeming to perceive that the things returning to him are leaving him uncertain and unsettled. Or at least, she's tried to. Her inquisitive nature seems to eat at her for a week before she finally gives in, looking to him in clear interest.
"Have you remembered much more?" Zelda asks, the curiosity in her bright eyes shadowed only by a faint hint of apology.
Are her eyes blue? Or brown? Were they ever blue or brown? Her emerald-green gaze is making him hesitate, because no, of course they were never another color. The idea is absurd, and he doesn't like that it lingers in his mind for so long.
He doesn't want a wrong sense of déjà vu with her. This is Zelda, the Zelda of now, the princess of a broken Hyrule and the survivor of a calamity. This is a Zelda long removed from the days of Hylia and the first hero. If he is a hero of anything, it's of a grown-over wild, a land where grasses spring up in fallen garrisons and every breath of wind carries the scent of old rains and new flowers and ancient wisps of forgotten memories.
He doesn't want to remember others. He doesn't want to recall lives that aren't his own. The Zelda here is her own, and he is his own—their world may be old, but to them it is something new, and he wants desperately to see it through the eyes of someone who has never lived before.
He can't really answer her question. So he gives her a thin smile, and hopes she can see the look in his eyes and understand.
Perhaps he's clinging too fast to hope, but she seems to.
When he hands her the cooking ladle and the long-awaited meal he's prepared after a long and hungry day, a funny little smile crosses her face, like she's remembering something, too.
"Thanks, Link," she says, and her voice is only a little bit teasing. His heart tugs oddly in his chest, but somehow, he can tell that she feels it too. "You are the hero of Hyrule."
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jacky-rubou · 1 year
Link
That fic I’ve been writing for weeks now has been finished! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as I have been writing it!
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