#so i switched to main and made it its own post

[whoviandoodler]

( @oblivious-chaos you asked me for more details so here you go!!)

I've been thinking about the bad kids' gray morality in relation to combat ever since their fight with johnny spells, when they fully went off the rails, fueled by the memory of what happened in the cafeteria- the highway chase, killing people with no thought given to the moral implications of taking a life, in all the ways fighting that fight like they were in a movie. the gang members weren't people, they were the Enemy, props to be eliminated before they did harm in an almost theatrical display of prowess from the bad kids. this was all the more so highlighted by the fact that their names never even came up in game and were only mentioned by brennan for fun- they never even attempted to have a conversation with these bikers, to treat them in any way like living beings.

and from then on, as gradation in storytelling necessitates, the fights grew harder and harder, and so every time the bad kids fought, they were scrambling. they were the underdogs. especially with the final bosses- they were davids fighting against goliaths, waging impossible fights and barely winning, often leaving all in one piece purely through luck and/or the little man's ingenuity (kristen's clerical talent, fig making the diamonds via performance in the nightmare king's forest, etc).

in many ways, in their eyes, they're still those fourteen year old children standing in the cafeteria, watching someone die for the first time. experiencing that quick, decisive flip where the world went from a place of adventure filled with swashbuckling and bright lights to a real, brutal place where a miscalculation or just pure bad luck marks the difference between walking away from a fight and your corpse being carried away. and yes, they've gotten stronger, and more confident, and became better tacticians, but there's still that energy in them, that terrified, small place that makes them bare their teeth and swing to kill not wound.

but oh my god, are they no longer those children. it remind me of when zelda told gorgug that he still thinks he's that loser kid and thus carries himself and makes decisions based off of that mistaken, leftover impression, and it's a trend that doesn't stop at gorgug, or romantic ventures. they're legitimately terrifying fighters, and they keep on growing stronger and stronger, and one day they will no longer be davids but goliaths, and unless they stop to reevaluate where they are in the food chain they will miss the moment that happens and keep hitting with their full strength against people much weaker than them for perceived threat. the situation that happened with fathrethriel, where fig nearly murdered someone because he was annoying, will start happening more and more often, even when there's no brennan to meta their awareness of their strength and the strength of others.

so the way i see it, and a really fun thing to consider/roll around, is their potential for villainy- outside of the current situation which is itself pretty dark, even if the genre of the show most often makes light of it (which i do like! it both allows us to enjoy the show as it is presented on the surface, and to consider it through a lens of more mundane morality; it's also why i had no issues with them killing kipperlilly as a story choice- i saw some fans were upset that it happened (which is valid!) because she was a manipulated child not a beacon of evil and it wasn't acknowledged in-story, but imo the implications of not acknowledging it and what it means for the bad kids' morality are equally as delicious)

[changisworld]

“You’ll like it,trust me”

word count:3,301

summary:Your boyfriend, Hyunjin, knows how reactive you are to touches, especially on your clit. As he is drawing a certain frame of your pussy from a homemade sex tape you both made, he can’t help but admire the still image, but a thought crosses his mind. He can’t help but realise his fingers are a tiny bit clumsy sometimes on your clit, never touching just your clit, & this is when he gets his bright idea to use something… more precise to see if it will make a difference.

18+, MDNI! Smut below the cut.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS: Soft dom Hyunjin, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, use of a paintbrush, fingering, spit, cum tasting, oral but its brief, praise, Hyune is just a cutie, mention of safe word but not used, begging, dacryphilia, PIV, creampie, aftercare is extremely brief but more happens off screen, this is literally 99% smut:3

Hyunjin is currently sitting in the living room, sitting in front of his canvas, using his favourite water colour paints that he is holding in his left hand as he dips his paint brush in the small glass of water, the colour a dark, musky bluey, grey colour.

He has his inspiration photo on his phone screen, balanced up on the small ledge of the wooden frame the thing he is painting on, the photo being a photo of your pussy.

In his eyes, it's not even a sexual thing, he just thinks it's so beautiful & he can't help but admire it, so why wouldn't he want to paint it for the millionth time?

He lightly swatches a violet colour & starts to paint your hood & clitoris with a careful hand, not even focusing to look at the photo anymore since he has it memorised better than how to spell his own name.

His white bristled paintbrush coated in the very faint colour glides over the canvas, he pauses for a second as he gets an idea that he thinks is worth a million dollars.

He looks down at the photo on his phone, your vagina still plastered on the screen & he uses the kitchen paper to dry the brush, the remnants of the paint leaving the brush & he doesn't pack anything away, leaving the living room with his mini station in a mess as he giddily walks to your shared bedroom.

He sees you just sitting on the bed with your back against the pillows & headboard as you're just reading a magazine you bought that day & Hyunjin plops himself on top of you, forcing you to put your magazine to the side of you & Hyunjin settles between your legs, your chests connecting over all of your clothes & he starts pecking your lips & cheeks.

"What's made you so clingy all of a sudden?" you ask, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as his lips coated with a layer of lip balm sticking to each area he kisses & he pauses to look at you, pouting.

"I'm always clingy! You can't blame me, wanna be stuck to you" he replies, his voice soft as he now switches to shuffling down just enough so he can shove his face in your tits, covered by your shirt & just lays there as he reaches down to caress your thigh.

"I thought of something I wanna try, I think it will be good, can you lemme try?" he asks, his voice still soft as he buries his chin in your chest, looking up at you at a slightly uncomfortable angle.

"Who am I to stop you, you can try anything you wanna do, what is it you're wanting to try anyways?" you respond, stroking his long fluffy hair & twirling your index finger through his soft locks & Hyunjin can't help but chuckle as he stands up again.

"I'll be right back, its a surprise but I need you to want it too since I'll be doing it to you, take your.. my sweatpants off & wait here" he cheers as he runs back to his DIY art station & grabbing a long, thin & soft bristled paint brush that he actually hasn't had the chance to use yet, before returning to you & to his happiness, you've done what he said & you're now just left on the bed wearing your plain cotton panties & your shirt.

"Hyune, why are you getting me half naked with one random paint brush in your hand & no paint?" you joke as you sit up & cross your legs & he giggles at you as he sits down on the bed as he doesn't really respond right away & instead lies you down.

"I was painting you earlier & I was painting your pretty clit & I came up with the idea to try.. paint yourself with your juices? that sounds cringe but trust me! You're so sensitive it will feel soooo good, it might even be better than my fingers since I can be more direct." he whines, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice from actually saying this all out loud & when you look at his face & realise he's being serious, you can't help but start laughing.

"The look on your face when you're nervous is adorable, Sure, we can try, how do we do it?" you ask & he gives you his cheeky, cunning smirk. "Just take your underwear off & I'ma play with your little clit n try make you cum & then I can put it on my painting later, makes it even more personal, the idea just turns me on." he responds, his cheeks blushing as he helps you pull your underwear off anyway.

You nod your head & reach behind you & reposition the pillow & you sit it comfortably beneath your head & you're quick to open your legs for him, completely bare now except for the shirt you've kept on.

Hyunjin lays on his stomach between your legs, his legs swinging ack & forth as he litters a few kisses on each thigh, warming you up before he moves his hand that is holding the paint brush & he puts it in his mouth, transferring his spit onto the small hairs to make it feel that tiny bit softer for you before he brings it to your folds, before painfully slowly parting them.

You twitch beneath the brush, the sensation being so so different to anything you've ever felt, but different is good in your eyes & this proved your quote as true.

He drags the brush up & down your folds, gathering your juices & painting them across your entire pussy, the full area sticky with arousal. "How does it feel baby?" he questions, his eyes looking up at you as he doesn't stop his action, wanting to see your face on how you're reacting.

"Feels weird, but I really like it, don't stop" you murmur, basking in the feeling, relaxing as you melt into the bed. "Wasn't planning on it, gonna put it on your clit now, mkay? tell me how you feel" he purrs as the brush drags from your hole all the way up to your clit before he slowly starts swirling the thin, soft & now wet brush around your clit in small circles & you buck your hips & at the same time your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Shit, feels so- dunno, good" you rasp, your fingers gripping onto the pillow that tiny bit extra as you get used to the sensation & Hyunjin chuckles from where he is.

He twists the brush in his fingers & the bristles fully engulf your clit & your legs threaten to close around him, but he is quick to shut that down by stopping his hand to speak. "Don't shut your legs, just wanna be good to you so let me" he softly murmurs before resuming his motion, pulling back your pussy so now your clit is completely exposed & he can visibly see it pulsating.

He switches from twisting the brush in his fingertips to then circling your clit with the brush before dragging it down your folds for a few seconds just to not let you think he's forgetting about that area entirely before repeating the process & the noises from your throat are getting a lot more frequent & getting louder every second.

Little 'fuck's', 'shit's' & repeating his name over & over is all you're really saying, the sensation being mind numbing & you mentally slap yourself for never thinking of this idea on your own.

Hyunjin can see your cunt pulsating & clenching around nothing & Hyunjin bites his lip in anticipation. "You gonna cum, hmm? Can see you gushing n clenching" he teases, before continuing "Just let go, wanna hear n see you enjoy yourself, so pretty f'me."

"Yea, g'na cum, don't stop, please Jinnie" you whimper, back arching off the bed as you force your legs to stay open upon Hyunjins earlier request, your eyes scrunched closed & he just smiles at your words & starts kissing your inner thighs, not changing or disrupting his rhythm at all & your orgasm shoots up your spine as your legs shake around him & your toes curl.

"Good girl, look so pretty when you cum" he murmurs, his tone soft as he moves his face to now kiss over your raw clit, moving the brush back down to your folds & hole, the brush tracing your leaking hole which makes you try hump against it, not wanting to be teased even though you're only just coming down from your orgasm.

"W-was good" you whimper, your hand reaching down to cup his cheek as you rest your weight on the other am you're using to sit up with but your arm gives out & you flop back down when he spits down onto your pussy before sucking it back up, slurping your clit in his puffy lips as he looks up at you & you can feel him smirking against you.

He lets go of your clit with a small 'pop' noise & he groans. "Taste so good, you can handle one more, I'm having too much fun" He states, lust in his voice as he moves his frame so he's sitting at the side of you as he drags the brush back up to your clit & resumes his previous action but at a slower pace, not wanting to overstimulate you too much.. not at the moment anyways.

"S-sensitive Hyune, want a break" you whimper as he shuffles upwards so he is pretty much face level with you & you can smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne that you love so much & he just smiles at you.

"You can take it, you know the safe word if it's too much, remind me what it is please angel" he states, so confident in what he is saying he has a slightly sassy tone to it.

"F-fluff- Ahh, right there!" you whine & you buck your hips into the brush & Hyunjin leans down to kiss you, ignoring the uncomfortable angle of his hand but ignores it, instead, letting himself sink into the feeling & taste of your tongue, groaning into your lips.

He leans back just enough so your lips disconnect & he squishes your cheeks together to the point your lips part & he takes this chance to spit into your mouth, a small tinge of your own taste that he didn't already transfer into your mouth during the kiss being evident & you immediately swallow it & he blushes even more.

"So gorgeous, y'know that? So perfect for me, Love you so much" he conveys as he sits back on the back of his legs & pulls your leg over his lap, giving him better access & then reaches down to use his other hand to start teasing your dripping hole & you wince.

"Put em inside, want them Jinnie" you squeak & he wants to try tease you, but he has pretty much no self control left & he listens to your request instantly, as if he is being controlled by his very own siren.

He slips not just one but two fingers into you & his long, slender fingers find your aroused G-spot the second they slip inside, his knuckles being the only part that is visible as he starts scissoring them in & out of you at a semi quick pace, slowly picking up the speed as he also picks up the pace with the paint brush & your legs can't help but spasm.

"Hyunjin, w-wanna cum, lemme cum" you whine, your hips jerking almost as quick as his fingers are moving, dying for absolutely everything he can give you. "Cum then y/n, I wouldn't ever stop you, gimme it" he replies, his voice smug.

You can feel it bubbling up in your tummy, but you know it's not like the orgasm you had just a couple of minutes prior. "G- gonna squirt Jin, d-don't" you whimper, not wanting to squirt because your brain is already mush & it's always a hundred times stronger but that doesn't deter him at all, if anything, it pushes him to keep doing it a million times more.

"I know it's stronger, want you to be spent, it's so hot gimme it, please please, cmon angel please" he pleads with you & the second you hear how desperate he is for it, you can't not give him what he wants especially when he's being so good for you.

Your orgasm squirts out of you as you squeal, spraying onto the bed, Hyunjins knuckles & the entire paint brush, he is forced to pull his fingers out of you with how much you're constricting around him & he takes the time to suckle on his fingers, groaning at your taste as his eyes roll at the second it hits his taste buds.

"That's it, that's a big one isn't it" he smirks, his voice teasing as he encourages you, in awe at the sight of you as he slowly changes the angle of his body so he's back to sitting beside you again, watching you come down from your even more intense orgasm.

You are left on the bed panting, your eyes watering & a tear or two stained into your cheeks, the overstimulation burning so good & Hyunjin throws the paint brush to the side & leans down to kiss you, his hand softly playing with your tit over your shirt & your body can't decide if it wants more of his touches or if it wants to lean away from it.

"Do you think you can handle my cock jagi? Don't stress if not" he says softly, wiping the tears from your face.

"Wanna make you c-cum, can handle it" you respond & you feel as if your skin is on fire with his touch on your face, it's so simple but you can feel the love radiating from it.

"Just say your safe word if it's too much, don't want you completely worn out, I know I've taken a lot from you, love you endlessly" he murmurs & you want to cry even more tears but not from overstimulation but from how cared for you feel.

Hyunjin helps shuffle you from the now wet spot on the bed on the bed so you're now laying on your stomach on the other half of the bed & you take it upon yourself to raise your ass for him but he pushes on your lower back until you fall & you're laying flat on the bed & you can hear him stripping his own clothes from his body & he straddles the top of your thighs & you can hear the 'shlick' noises coming from him giving himself a few jerks & you can swear you feel beads of precum drip onto your ass before he aligns himself up with your hole, before pressing the tip into your hole, begging for attention.

Hyunjin fucks his tip in & out of you for a few moments, his eyes unable to get enough with the way your seeping opening is hugging his cock so tightly before he decides he can't wait any longer & fully pushes in & you both let out a groan at the same time.

"So tight all the time, definitely not gonna last long but I'll try hold out" he pants, forcing himself to try stay still so he doesn't fuck into you too fast, but you on the other hand, have grown far too impatient to wait to adjust, your wetness is far more than enough in your humble opinion & you start trying to fuck yourself on him, but you don't get very far & you grow frustrated.

"Hyune, please!" you whimper but he can't even bring himself to laugh at your attempt, far too horny to hold himself back & he starts fucking into you & you pretty much instantly start clenching around him as you let out loud squeaks & raspy moans, Hyunjin mirroring your sounds as you both feel his cock pushing against your cervix, the painful pleasure making you drool into the duvet you're laying on.

"So-so good Hyune, to-so deep" you squeal as he rolls his hips in a slightly but extremely evident angle, making you see stars & you can't help but start wriggling beneath him, feeling another orgasm already brewing inside you.

"S-stop clenching around me so much, g-gonna cum" he whimpers, his voice shaky as his eyes are glued to the way your cunt is stretching open for him & he lets a glob of spit land on your tightest hole just to watch you squirm, trying to take his mind off how close he is to cumming.

"Gunna pull out n cum on your p-pussy n will paint it over y-your folds, so fucking tight" he continues on as he leans forward so his back is connecting with your chest, but his pace doesn't falter.

He pushes the side of your head so you're no longer pressed face down & now facing him & you both meet half way & you both share a messy kiss, your tongues mostly around each others mouths & not in each others mouths, almost tasting each others sounds as those along with the squelching noises fill the entire room & no doubt the rest of the house.

"G-y/nn I'm gonna cum, can't stop" he almost fully squeals as he pulls out & turns you over with one arm, the other arm jerking himself off & the second you're lying on your back, he shoots multiple ropes of warm cum on your lower tummy, not in the right mind to be even slightly apologetic at the fact that your shirt is now gonna be stained with cum.

You can't help but whimper & moan along with Hyunjin as he orgasms, his gorgeous face is just too much for you to handle & too gorgeous to be mad at, even if he is currently messing on your clothes.

Hyunjin is left panting above you & you both try catch your breath. Hyunjin grabs the glass of water you have on your bedside unit & helps feed you it & you finish the remainder of the water before he puts the cup away.

You use the rest of your strength to try sit up to take you both to the shower but he decides against it & stops you & puts you back in the position you were just in as he reaches to grab the still wet paint brush.

"I didn't make you cum again & I said I'd.. what was it? I'd 'paint you with cum' & I don't lie, just one more." he purrs, his voice still shaky from lack of breath as he daps some of the cum off your shirt with the brush before dragging it across your clit, making you cry out, you have only just clocked onto how long of a night this is going to be.

->Anon list & taglist are open!

@jisungml

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[mrsjjongstby]

"Happy Birthday, Angel" - P.SH

Pairings: bf!sunghoon x graphic designer!fem!reader Synopsis: Your bf surprises you on your birthday after a long day of work Warnings: FLUFFF, kiss, skinship. (let me know if i missed any!) WordCount: 608

A/N: this fic is for our birthday girl, @morganaawriterr !!!!! wish her happy birthday in the commentsss!!!!!! everyone say happyy birthdayyy morganaaa in the commentss!!! enjoyy stay hydrated y'all!!!!

You don’t expect much today.  

Not because it's not important- no, it's your birthday after all. But things have been busy, life has been loud- new job, exhaustion catching up to you, taking a break from few things and with all this, the only thing that was keeping you sane was your boyfriend. 

You get home and switch on the light as you notice a small trail of rose petals (a little dramatic but you smile anyway) leading to your hall. 

And there you see Sunghoon stand awkwardly in the middle, holding a cake with slightly uneven icing, filled with sliced mangoes, a single candle flickering slightly and a wobbly “HBD my fav designer” text written with icing on the cake. 

“I wanted to make it special,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. “So, I made it from scratch after watching like 12 different YouTube tutorials.”  

You blink and then grin, “You baked for me?” 

“Though I'm not good at baking like you, I tried and... its technically edible.” he says seriously. 

Your heart melts as you laugh, “That’s all I ask for.” 

He smiles as he steps forward, holding out the cake for you, “Make a wish!” 

You give him a smile of your own as you close your eyes, a soft orange glow on your face- the candle’s flame reflecting as Sunghoon continued to watch you like you just dropped from heaven. (maybe u did) 

You make your wish as you softly blow out the candle.  

“Happy birthday angel,” he says quietly. 

“I know I'm not great at words or surprises but I try to. And I hope today felt a little more like you.” 

You look at him, really look at him and you smile, “It did, and you are my favorite part of it” 

He smiles and kisses your forehead before he sets the cake down on the coffee table. He takes the bag, which was on the ground and hands you it, avoiding your eyes.  

Inside is... The Firstfruit album- Mark Lee’s first full album. 

Your jaw drops, “Wait- is this-” 

Sunghoon hums as he folds his hands over his chest, “Yeah, took me two whole days to find it cause apparently everyone wants it. Including you, unfortunately.”  

You try not to laugh, but you’re already grinning. “Are you jealous of Mark Lee?” 

“I’m not saying I fought a fourteen-year-old at the store,” he says dramatically, “but I almost did. For that album. For you.” 

He pauses, then he shrugs, “You better not stare at his photo all day. I'm still the main attraction.”  

You burst out laughing, already holding the album to your chest. 

“Thank you.” you say warmly. 

He leans in slightly, gaze soft but playful. “Next year I’m only giving you my photocard and our album. So, I don’t have to share.” 

You smile and kiss him as he wraps his arm around your waist and kisses you back. 

“I love you, thank you so much hoon.” You say after you pull back. 

“Anything for you pretty.” He says with a soft smile looking at you and then kissed your forehead. 

A/N: hope u nd morgs will like itttt!!!!!! ALSO double posting today hahaha. ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUBSSS!!!!! ILYSMMMM I wrote this with all its nd bits of info ik abt u! Also it's like 3:50 am which means its 11pm in ur country... well atleast I tried to post this at 12am !!!! Okie love uuu

[kxsagi]

hello! I know I’m asking this on ur glorious main character goatsagi’s bday but w the recent manga leaks (IF U HAVENT READ THEM YET PLS STOP HERE) I have a request (SPOILERS BELOW)

Could you write abt Househusband!Nagi like in an AU where bro doesn’t become a pro footballer after his Blue Lock elimination 😞 and what you think he would be like? For example: he’s unhelpful post u guys moving in together until reader lwk crashes out from the strain of carrying their household on their back (poor reader) and then nagi locks in 😈 and they r happy!! Or they aren’t I feed off of angst so either is ok 😊

“𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝! 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢”

a/n: this request is exposing how behind i am on requests 💀 BUT MY GLORIOUS GOATSAGI LMAOSJKSGJS

i’m all caught up to the manga so don’t worry! can’t spoil me 😼

i decided to not write angst for this one because nagi deserves to be happy after all the “burger king” jokes 

(i wish i knew art credits bc the art is so cute ☹️)

at first, living with house husband! nagi is like adopting a really pretty cat who doesn’t know what a vacuum is and keeps eating your leftovers. not out of malice, he just… forgets. or assumes you won’t mind. 

you do mind. 

"sei, did you wash the dishes?" 

"huh? no, i thought you were gonna do it after your class." 

cue the twitch in your eye. 

he’s not mean or messy. actually, house husband! nagi’s pretty neat. he wipes down the counters after he makes instant ramen and always folds his socks into perfect pairs. but helpful? not exactly. not unless you're standing there, giving him a step-by-step tutorial on how to do it. 

you didn’t expect it to be this hard. being the one who works, cooks, cleans, keeps track of bills, makes the appointments. he lounges around in oversized hoodies and his soft, soft hair, watching you buzz around the apartment like a stressed-out bee. 

and you love him, you really do, but love doesn’t clean the bathroom. 

so it happens. you burn out. 

it starts with you skipping breakfast. then forgetting to charge your phone. then breaking down in the laundry room because the dryer ate one of your socks and you’ve been on your feet for 12 hours and there’s no more clean towels. 

you come home and just. crash. 

no fanfare. no dramatic monologue. you face-plant into bed and sleep through dinner, still in your shoes. 

when you wake up, everything’s… quiet. 

no game noises. no crumbs on the floor. you blink blearily and shuffle into the kitchen, expecting chaos. 

instead, there’s house husband! nagi. hair tied back messily, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a pot like he’s reenacting a cooking show tutorial. 

you just stare. 

"oh. you're up," he says, looking over his shoulder. there’s an apron tied crookedly around his waist. you don’t even own that apron. where did it come from? 

“did you… did you cook?” 

"mhm. made curry. didn’t know how spicy you liked it, so i made it mild and left the chili flakes on the side." 

you blink again. 

he glances at you, then at the floor. “also cleaned. and made a list of stuff we need. you look tired, so… i figured.” 

turns out, house husband! nagi just needed a wake-up call. he doesn’t like seeing you worn down. he doesn’t like knowing he was part of the reason. 

after that day, it’s like he flips a switch. he’s still the same laid-back, sleepy house husband! nagi, but now he folds your laundry with yours on top so you don’t have to bend down. he sets timers for the rice cooker and writes "don't forget lunch ♡" on post-its he sticks to your keys. he learns your favorite shampoo and stocks it before you run out. 

he even starts meal-prepping. you catch him slicing vegetables with alarming precision while watching cooking videos on 2x speed. when you ask him if he’s okay, he shrugs. 

“it’s kinda like a puzzle game,” he says, sticking a cut carrot slice to your forehead. 

he still doesn’t like vacuuming, but he does it anyway. with noise-canceling headphones and a sour face. 

"i miss football sometimes," he admits one night, curled into your side on the couch. "but this isn't bad, y'know? taking care of you. feels like i'm good at something again." 

your fingers slide through his hair. "you’re amazing at it." 

he hums, sleepy, a little smug. “yeah? then let me spoil you, okay? house husband! nagi’s locked in.” 

and you let him. because for all the lazy afternoons and pajama days and burnt toast attempts, he really is locked in. 

and the two of you? you’re happy. 

finally. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[leafofkudzu]

Happy Spring, everyone! Though where you are may not be warming up just yet (I know it isn't for me), the end is in sight! And speaking of things happening soon - this Saturday is the first one of a new month, which means it's time for another art party hosted by my guild, Verdant Shield [VS]!

For those not familiar, art parties are a concept carried over from Final Fantasy XIV: in-game get-togethers for artists of all kinds to hang out, chat, and create together! For GW2 parties there’s more of an emphasis on hanging out and gathering references during the party itself, and then in the days/weeks following to work on your creations at your own pace and then post to the shared art party tag. We’ve used the same one (#VSArtParty) since the very beginning so you can go allll the way back and explore what people have made! The most important thing to keep in mind though is this: the ‘goal’ of an art party isn’t to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Time and /squadjoin information is below the cut, but will also be posted again on the day of the party as squads go up!

Location Information:

It was incredibly funny to me when doing up the promo image that Judgment Rock just...has no POI attached to it at all. It simply is a tiny little region in the Southeast corner of Mount Maelstrom with its own waypoint (aptly named Judgment Waypoint) and literally nothing else. Good news for us though - that means it's a perfect place to set up shop for a party and not be disturbed!

Time & Squad Details:

As always, there'll be two parties - the first one on EU servers and the second on NA ones - with an hour break in between!

The EU server party will begin at 9pm Central European Summer Time (aka 3pm Eastern Daylight Time or 5 hours before in-game reset). I'm actually unsure of my work schedule for this weekend, so EU partygoers will have to stand by and I'll update this post (and subsequent reblogs) with who may be hosting for the first half of the party!

The NA server party will begin 1 hour after the EU party’s official end, at 7pm Eastern Daylight Time (aka 1am Central European Summer Time or 1 hour before in-game reset). I’ll be on my main account for this one, so please /whisper or /squadjoin Zhalsi for a taxi invite if you don’t see my customary white cat tag hanging around on your map!

Closing Words:

The dreaded concept of time and its perception led to me procrastinating on this post, only to realize that both regions have already switched their clocks by now and there was nothing to worry about, so sorry for the delay! Thank you for putting up with my short notices, I'd say it won't happen again but who knows what strange thing will come up next month. :P

Thank you again to everyone who comes out to these, I look forward to them every month even if I don't talk very much, and as long as people are interested will continue to be your designated cat herder! I'll see you all this weekend, take care! ♥

[hyperlexichypatia]

Even if I weren't philosophically a psychiatric abolitionist, I think I would still hate the way fiction uses psychiatry and pop psychology and "mental illness," because it's just lazy characterization.

Fiction has the potential for rich and illustrative exploration of character motivations, desires, influences, inner lives, values, decision-making, and you went with... "a brain disease made them do it"? Really?

"Why did this character try to kill his own sister?" "Because he knew that she would recognize their grandmother's coin collection and would figure out that her brother was the one who stole their uncle's inheritance." ^This is interesting! What a conniving, manipulative character! I feel rewarded for investing in this book!

"Because he's a Malignant Narcissist Sociopath." ^This is boring as fuck. I read this whole book and the explanation ends up being "ontologically bad person disorder"?

Occasionally it circles around to So Godawful It's Hilarious, like Batwoman, which centered an entire season arc around "The Bad Guy is Bad because of a magic brain science button that switched his brain to 'evil' and he needs another magic brain science button to switch his brain back to 'good.'" Literally borrowed the plot of Bart Simpson's evil Krusty doll. And I don't care about creator intent -- according to me, this is an absolutely hilarious parody of psychiatric culture. Yeah, that is the logical conclusion of "brain disease made them do it" bullshit, good job!

I started to compare it to the "devil made them do it" trope, but that's unfair -- there are a lot of interesting, nuanced demonic possession stories, and the idea of a "devil" can be used to explore the nature of morality, free will, forces beyond our control. I don't believe in literal "real" (inasmuch as "real" is a meaningful concept) demonic possession, but at least it's an interesting fictional lens. Neurobullshit isn't even interesting.

I've seen criticism lately of stories where "the characters talk as if they've been to therapy", and sure, that annoys me too. But I've also seen this criticism applied when characters just have a modicum of emotional awareness or expression, and... do you think therapy is a prerequisite for having feelings? Even in a real-life context, I've seen people say things like "She must have been through a lot of therapy to get to that point" when a person, like, stands up for themself or expresses their wishes. Do you think no one did these things before therapy was invented? Once I saw a story written in the 1940s praised for its depiction of the main character's grief at his best friend's death, because it was "remarkable for a time before post-traumatic disorders were widely understood." Do you really think no one was writing about grief and loss before modern pathologizing terminology? Do you think people were all emotionless robots until someone invented feelings in 1995?

Psychiatry is an inaccurate way of conceptualizing human emotional experience; it's an oppressive way of conceptualizing human emotional experience; and it's also an incredibly boring way of conceptualizing human emotional experience.

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Joel run into Jackson's biggest threat.

Warnings: Violence, guns, minor character death, racist remakes, ageism (sorta), language mentions of slavery/ slavers.

Word Count: 2.9k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

May 2024

The first thing Joel registers in the morning is how cold he is. He must’ve nodded off while keeping watch. The second is Louis, who is shaking him awake like the world was ending…again. 

“Get up, man!” 

“What’s wrong?” Joel mumbles, his eyelids peeling open to the unwelcome morning light. His back is stiff from leaning against the old porch’s support beams.

“She’s gone!” 

Joel follows Louis’ pointed finger to where the horses had been tied last night. Sure enough, one is missing from its fence post. 

“Fuck.” 

Your trail is easy to follow. The ground is soft from the spring rain and Pepper’s hooves have sunk into the Earth, leaving a clear path to wherever you’ve run off. Joel sighs as his own horse, Turnip trots along. At the very least, he knows you haven’t been taken from the cabin. If raiders had found you all last night, well, you’d all be dead in said cabin. 

“Thought you had it under control.” Brett huffs from Joel’s left 

Despite the comment being meant for Joel, Louis responds. 

“Women are unpredictable. Everyone knows that.”

Joel chooses not to comment. It’s true many women were unpredictable, not you though. Or well, Joel thought you weren’t. He could’ve sworn he had been getting to know you in the past months. Last night had been so perfect, laying next to him, smiling and laughing like everything was normal. 

You and Joel had switched with Louis and Brett sometime around 2 am. Joel had sat down next to you on the rickety front porch, eyes fixed on the treeline in case anything were to come out of it. When the hell had he fallen asleep? You must’ve slipped away sometime after 4 am, surely he had made it at least two hours? 

“Hold up. Look, two o’clock.” Brett points 

Joel’s eyes scan the woods, eventually landing on a motionless blob on the green forest floor. He flicks Turnip’s reins and moves towards the human-shaped thing, praying it’s not your lifeless body. Relief floods his system when he sees it’s not you but a dead infected. 

Louis jumps off his horse with ease, something Joel hasn’t been able to do in twenty years, to examine the corpse. A single bullet hole rests in the face of this Stalker, it’s a perfect shot, and Brett takes the time to point it out. 

“Let’s keep movin’. She’s close, I can feel it.” Joel says, his eyes roaming around, making sure there aren’t any more infected lurking in the bushes. 

They make it about another half mile or so before it happens. There’s a shout and then the crack of a gun. Brett shouts a loud curse as his horse panics. A searing pain rips through Joel’s shoulder, the feel of the bullet is unmistakeable as he reaches for the rifle he has strapped to Turnip’s saddle bag. A whistle sounds and before Joel can warn him, an arrow has made its home between Louis’ eyes. Joel’s hands land on the rifle, ready to pull it free but a deep voice has him stopping as Louis’ body falls from his horse with a thump. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

The cocking of a gun has Joel’s hands freezing. From above of all places is where they lurk. Three men, descend from the trees, dressed in dark green, mud smeared to their faces in an effort to blend in. 

“Get off the horses. Slow.” One of them orders. 

Joel lifts himself from his saddle, his shoulder burning as he does. Warm blood trickles down his skin and gets caught in the soft fabric of his shirt, the same shirt you were resting on last night. 

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel says as his feet hit the ground, his eyes fixed on his gun that sits in his saddle.

Brett’s eyes are locked on Joel, he looks scared out of his fucking mind. Joel should’ve expected this would happen. He was at most 25 maybe 26. Too fucking young. 

“Let us pass, we’re looking for someone,” Joel says, his eyes fixed on the one who spoke first, he has red shoelaces. 

Brett looks at him, his eyes almost saying “Are you kidding? They just killed Louis, we need revenge!”. Revenge of course was the last thing on Joel’s mind. He needed to find you, fast. Who knows how many more of these tree-climbing fuckers there were. 

“These two look strong.” Red shoelaces says, ignoring Joel’s request. 

One of the other men gets in Joel’s face, his horrible breath nearly kills Joel’s entire sense of smell as he stares at him. 

“This one’s like…sixty fucking years old. He won’t be any good.” 

“Well, I’m not the one who shot that one in the fucking face, am I?” Red laces seethes, looking at the last man, who has his bow slung over his shoulder. 

“Don’t see why it matters, buyers hate the ones that aren’t white anyway.” Louis’ killer shrugs.

“They don’t want grandpas either, you fucking idiot.” Red laces says, shaking his gun at Joel, “How old are you?” 

Joel stays silent. He’s said what he wants. Whatever these men need young bodies for, doesn’t matter to him, he won’t be sticking around to find out. 

“Does it even matter? Let’s take them back, and get the boss's opinion.” The man with the bow says 

Joel’s mind begins to plot a way out of this. He can take at least two of them but the question is if Brett will be able to take out the third. Joel can see he’s shaking a bit, scared now that his friend has been killed. 

“We’re looking for a woman.” Brett’s shaking voice fills his ears 

Joel wants to punch Brett in the face. Why would he tell him that? He should’ve just brought Tommy, this naive fucker was going to get himself killed. Joel’s glare could probably freeze hell over as he tries to telepathically tell Brett to shut the fuck up. 

“A woman?” Red laces smiles, “We got women. Brought a nice looking in earlier, she’s got a nice ass.” 

It’s not you. Joel’s mind swirls as his eyes fixed on the path Pepper’s hooves have left. They lead further into the forest. It can’t be you they’re talking about. There’s the crackle of a radio suddenly, Joel doesn’t catch what’s being said, not that it matters since the one with the bad breath is slamming the handle of his pistol right into Joel’s temple, knocking him unconscious. 

You groan a bit as you stretch out on the ground. Your back protests as you try to rearrange here in this bush. The Walrus’ camp is only a few thousand feet from you. This bush conceals you nicely as you get a good head count on everyone. Counting The Walrus, there are two other armed men. You hadn’t meant to stumble upon their camp, you’d heard it, the laughter of men as you were riding through the trees, hoping for a clue of where Adam had come from. You hadn’t expected to find everything, just sitting here in the woods. 

The two men that work with The Walrus aren’t familiar to you. You wonder if there are any left from your time with him, perhaps Adam had been the last one. One of them listens to the crackle of a walkie-talkie, their patrol must’ve found something. 

You’re not sure where this patrol of theirs is all you know is that they hadn’t seen you, otherwise, you’d probably be sitting in the mud with the four other people they’re holding captive. Two young men, probably around Brett and Louis’ age, and two women are tied to trees. One of the women, her greying hair the only sign of her age occasionally calls out to the younger girl who has a dinosaur t-shirt on. You decide that they are mother and daughter and that they’re going to get out of their ropes first. 

Where the fuck was Joel? You swore he would’ve found you by now, he’d gone on and on about his tracking skills a few weeks ago, why hadn’t he found you yet? Your hands grip your rifle, could you take the three of them by yourself? Certainly not…of course you could pick them off from here. But, you wanted to see The Walrus, you wanted to get up close and watch him die, the same way you had with Adam. You needed it. 

You remain curled up here in your bush, hoping that you’d tied Pepper off well. You’d left here about a mile away, whispering into her mane that you’d be back soon. Hopefully, that wasn’t going to turn into a lie.

The loud whoops and yells of men have you fixing your gaze back on the camp and shock fills your system. Three more men have appeared, no doubt the ones who were on patrol. They drag two unconscious bodies with them, Brett and most importantly, Joel. 

Joel wakes up right as they drop him face-first into the dirt. His tongue tastes the ground below him as someone laughs at his misfortune. His head hurts a bit, nothing serious though, bad breath didn’t hit too hard. His focus was on his shoulder which was still slowly bleeding. It hadn’t hit anything major, Joel was sure of it, otherwise, he would’ve bled out by now. 

Joel pushes himself up, Brett who must’ve been hit harder has been left face down in the mud as their captors stare down at Joel, sneering, whispering their thoughts about him. Their guns remain pointed at him and Joel wracks his brain for ways to take them out without Brett’s help. He really should’ve brought Tommy. 

Joel looks at the other four people who look terrified. A woman and a teen girl are what catches his eye though. They’re clearly related, with similar facial features along with matching scowls as they stare at him. Joel’s been alive a long time though, long enough to see that they’re both terrified despite their best efforts to look at him with disdain. As for the men, Joel can’t quite place their emotions, he knows they’re not related though. All he can manage right now is relief, you’re not here. You must’ve slipped through their patrol somehow, maybe they were lurking in other trees when you passed through.  

“Time to meet the man.” Red Laces says suddenly, his voice giddy with anticipation.

A tent unzips and a man approaches, a long beard adorns his face, and greasy unwashed hair sits atop his head and when he opens his mouth to speak, Joel notices he’s missing two of his front teeth. No doubt about it, this is Adam’s boss.

Joel listens to your quiet voice as you explain who Adam is and what he did to you. Joel nearly gets up four times, ready to rip the man apart limb from limb. You seem so small and fragile, curled in on yourself under the blankets here on his couch as you talk about how you lost your beloved cat. 

“There was another man…missing two teeth who killed Loki and turned him into a fucking bowl of soup. He used to hurt me too, for fun.” 

If there weren’t five guns pointed at his head right now, Joel would be up and ripping the head off his toothless fucker for what he’s done. The thought of leaving you and Ellie behind has him still in the dirt. He eyes this “leader” the other men seem to respect. What was there to respect? The fact that he was a fucking psychopath who fed girls their pets and cut them up for fun?

“Oliver shot the other young one. Says it was an accident.” Red Laces throws his patrol partner under the bus immediately. 

“Fuck you, man. The brown ones don’t sell anyway!” Oliver defends himself behind obvious racism. What a fucking pig.

Joel looks at the leader and his missing teeth, he’s yet to speak, listening to the way his men bicker. 

“And you think someone as old as him will?” Red Laces argues back, pointing at Joel, “He’s got more fucking gray hairs than all of us combined!” 

Joel watches as Brett begins to stir, his eyes pulling open as his hand flies up to his temple where he’d been hit. A small groan escapes his lips as the one with the bad breath pulls him up and into a kneeling position, mimicking Joel’s current stance. 

“Now that we’re all awake…Let’s get some things straight.” 

Laces and Oliver stop their arguing, their boss's voice has them rigid as they shut their mouths for once. The boss turns to Oliver and even though Joel has just met this man, he can tell he’s angry. A deep frown on his face as he practically spits in Oliver’s face as he yells.

“I fucking told you! I wanted them all alive!” 

“I’m sorry!” Oliver cowers, “I didn’t mean to, I was aiming for his arm, I swear!” 

The boss grabs Oliver by the collar, shaking him as spit flies into his face, 

“Shooting them in the fucking arm is damaging the goods!” 

He whips around and gestures down to Joel, “Age doesn’t matter if they’re strong! You’ve cut into my profits…Who shot him?” 

Silence follows as their boss, whose face has gone red with anger demands an answer. Joel deduces that these men must be selling to slavers. He’d heard that in some areas communities used captive people to build their societies, treating the people they bought as literal machines. There was of course the second option as well, there was a flesh market down in Mexico he’d heard about years ago. Some gang that had been big back before the outbreak was now running the border and bought and sold people to be used for other’s pleasures.

Fuck…He couldn’t be sold off to some slaver somewhere. He needed to find you and get back to Jackson. This man and his group needed to die, he’d done too much to you, not to mention they’d clearly been planning to take Jackson for their own personal profits. 

Suddenly the boss is leaning down, a pungent smell of body oder and who knows what else assaults Joel’s senses as he speaks, 

“Who shot you?” 

Joel nods to Red Laces who seems to be nonverbally pleading with him not to rat him out. Of course, Joel doesn’t give two shits if Mr. Laces is punished, why should he? 

Red Laces is given a good right hook by his boss who threatens him, 

“If you shoot another piece of my cargo, I’ll sell you the next time we go down to Kansas, Got it?”  

Joel listens as he gives the same ultimatum to Oliver who begins to grovel and apologize for murdering Louis earlier. He looks at Brett who seems to be about two minutes away from pissing his pants. Joel nods towards the knife that sits tucked into the bottom pocket of the leader's pants. They hadn’t been tied up yet, this was their chance and Joel was going to take it. Brett shakes his head in fear and Joel shoots him a look. 

The leader turns back to Joel, satisfied with his speech to his men, 

“They said you’re looking for a woman.” He motions towards the woman tied to the tree behind him, “That her?” 

Joel remains silent and stares back at this stinking reeking sorry excuse for a human being. Joel could grab the knife if he just took a step closer. There was a pistol tucked into the front of his pants, Joel could easily shoot quicker than this man’s people. They were young, and unseasoned, the oldest, Laces was surely no more than 40. Joel was a better shot than all of them combined. 

“Quiet, huh? Whatta shame.” 

The leader turns on his heel, ready to go back to his tent. He takes a few steps before tossing his order over his shoulder,

“Tie the younger one up. Shoot the old man, he won’t sell.” 

Red Laces pulls his gun out from its holster and points it at Joel’s face. Joel’s thighs tense, it’s now or never. As if it’s in slow motion like some action movie from years ago, he lunges for the gun, ready to hit it out of his would-be killer's hands. 

Before his hands can make contact with the metal of the gun, the sound of a single shot rings out. At first Joel’s sure he’s a goner, that the gun has gone off and there’s a bullet in his head. 

Instead, a warm splatter of blood is raining down on him, and a metallic taste of iron fills his mouth as Red Laces drops to the ground, the top part of his head has been ripped open by one well-placed shot. 

You curse as your foot gets caught in a tangle of weeds. Nearly tripping over your own feet, you burst out of the bush. The one who was standing over him is dead, you’re sure of it. Your legs burn as you sprint towards the camp, rifle slung over your shoulder as you pull your beloved Colt Python from its holster. You cock your gun, you have to get to him. You’re closing the distance now, closing the distance between you and him. 

Between you and Joel. 

Next Part

Justice will be had for Loki the cat.

If you're reading this, please leave me a comment or reblog. It's lonely just getting likes on my fics. I yearn for your opinions and feedback.

Been feeling kinda down recently, I don't really know what it is. Oh well, here's a Joel pic from Pinterest:

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly  @orcasoul  @snowlycanroc  @freythecrazyfae

@person-005 @greenwitchfromthewoods

@elli3williams @yawnzzzzzzzz @am-3-thyst  @concrete-jungleeee

@cherrypieyourface  @kanyewestest @bambisweethearts

@sarahhxx03 @loveisacowboyyy @amyispxnk @lou-la-lou @dancinglotusbud

[aviradasa]

The lost boys main hcs

Marko

5th times the charm with trying to post this.tumblr hates me. This isn't proofread. Sorry it's short I'm tired as fuck and irritated. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🖤

Marko is an only child, and he grew up without a father. His mother was a seamstress and worked out of their home when he was a child. His mother was Italian, and his father was Swedish. When Marko was born, they were already living in the united states though so Marko had never been to either country, and he had never met any of his other family members. his dad died when he was 8, so he hardly remembers him now. His mother, on the other hand, died on his 16th birthday, falling victim to the san Francisco plague in 1904. Which was an epidemic of the black plague. He had to abandon her in their home to avoid catching it himself. Taking the last of the money they had and the necklace his mother wore with a picture of their family in it. Not long after, he found the boys, and they all stuck together (as you can guess), but not until after he struggled around town by himself for a few months. God, i need to stop making this shit sad hand on switching gears. He was the youngest when the boys got turned into vamps he had only turned 18 that summer He really tries to act more mature than he is, but as soon as something funny happens, that's over. Marko has a really good sense of humor, but he finds a lot of really stupid shit funny. He's the type of dude to watch his friends fall face down ass up on concrete and start laughing and snapping a photo before asking if they are ok (he is me) This also can lean into how he does lowkey bully people on the boardwalk. Mostly surf nazis but let's be so deadass he's kind of a dick to everyone there in his own special way. Him and paul have a tendency to double team people to: like whoever they come at wont have a chance to say anything cause as soon as one of them pauses the other jumps in to just dog on the person who annoyed them. Some of his insults get pretty creative as well: so if he says something to you thats just out of pocket,like 85% of the time its one of the ones that makes you stop to think about it before you can even get offended 🤣 Strange enough, though. He is very well spoken and charismatic when you talk to him normally. When talking, you notice after a while that he's not one of those folks that cuss every other sentence. Like he will throw it in there like everyone does, but not all the time if you feel me Idk how to describe it. he still talks like a normal person and uses slang and stuff, but he is oddly classy vocabulary wise. He's got a slightly softer tone to his voice as well, which makes his way of speaking come off smoother. He's also extremely smart. Having conversations with him is never really dull or unpleasant. (Unless you're an unlucky boardwalk asshole) Marko is very imaginative and creative. He never stops coming up with things. He hoards hobbies like a dragon hoard gold. From painting to sewing to cooking to wood carving, He just knows how to do this stuff, and he loves it. You will never catch him doing nothing. Even when he's spaced out at the wall, the dude is fiddling with something or sewing. Something together, he just can't stop. He loves giving gifts to friends as well. All of the boys have gifts from Marko that he's made himself. Mostly cause he loves showing off he has skill and unlike Paul he doesn't care if people touch his stuff so he will drag you around his space handing you stuff and showing you everything he's made/ collected cause he's just so proud. Just don't break it. He will be fucking pissed if You break it. Or if you give away anything he gifted you. Also he will talk to you about this stuff for hours on end if you let him (Do let him. He will love you for life if you show Intrests in the things he likes) his space is really cluttered. But looking around, it's mostly albums,art, fabric,patches, and various random objects.

other then that he's really clean. On that note He does not like getting covered in blood when he eats just sayin. He's like the least messy eater of the group mainly cause he hates getting it on his jacket. Plus the texture of dried blood on him makes him want to rip his skin off. It's just one of those things he can't stand So he makes sure to clean up fast. That doesn't mean he doesn't like toying with victims though he's a jumpscare master. He likes to scare his victims half to death before beating the shit outta them. He jokes that hes “tenderizing The meat”. When he does this He gets a kick outta that one. Oh he also likes music, he's not like overly into it though He likes alot of different types as well. Some of his favorite generas are Rock,goth,classical, and some 30s jazz strange enough. He does not give a DAMN what the others have to say about his music taste. if He wants to play his music it will be loud and proud. If they don't like it they are free To take it up with him. (They never will)

[writersglockrambles]

The theme of Sacrifice in Star Wars: Andor.

Just a forewarning, this could get long.

Throughout both Andor and the greater Star Wars narrative: Sacrifice has been one of the major, if not biggest theme encompassing the Star Wars universe - as a whole.

which brings me to the main subject of this post: Tay Kolma. The childhood friend of Mon Mothma and possible pursuer of her affection during their childhood years. In regards to sacfrice, Tay seems to be a character that falls short of truly inhabiting what it means to sacrifice. In their first meeting in years, Tay says to Mon:

"Like I said, we've both changed. I've done more than grow weary of the Empire. I'm afraid you'd find my politics a bit strong for your taste."

Tay in this scene is sharing with Mon, a personal confession. In a way he's already sacrificing a part of himself. Mon could've turned around and informed ISB of his anti imperial apprehensions. But she doesn't. Mon in turn, returns her own sacrifice by revealing that she also harbours those feelings, though in her own admission, they're much stronger.

"Perhaps you find my politics a bit strong for your taste?"

Mon see's Tay as a fellow companion in her ideals for the greater galaxy. They both share anti imperial sentiment. But the problem between them is this: What are you willing to sacrifice to achieve your goal?

I think its clear to see that though Tay outwardly dislikes the Empire, he's not willing to truly sacrifice what he holds dear to attain the greater goal of dismantling it.

I do feel that both characters made a mistake here. Tay, because Mon's politics really were too strong for his taste, and that though he spoke of the issues regarding the regime, he was never truly capable or ready to sacrifice his personal comforts.

Mon on the other hand, i feel was too willing to find a way out, she's ready to make those big sacrifices but she chose the wrong person to assist her in that greater goal.

Which brings me to Lieda and Stekan's wedding. To make a long story short, Tay's investments have endured financial impacts, impacts that he isn't willing to shoulder for the sake of the greater goal. I feel that the scene where he asks Mon for monetary compensation is very revealing of his character. His sacrifices are surface level, his opinions on the Empire, are surface level. Once things got too real for him, he immediately wanted financial support.

To contrast this with Mon. Mon is someone who will sacrifice everything for the Rebellion, even her own daughter. She's so entrenched in the act of sacrifice that when it comes to betraying her ideals and values, she willing to do it.

So I wanted to use this a starting off point to explore the dichotomy between what those in the Rebellion sacrifice and what those in the Empire will sacrifice.

Within the rebellion, there are a vast menagerie of characters who sacrifice so much of themselves for the cause. Luthen sacrifices his own mind. Klaya sacrifices her personal safety to assist Luthen. Saw sacrifices living a life of comfort and warmth to lead his partisans. Even Cinta and Vel have to sacrifice their relationship, their love for one another - for the Rebellion.

Now when we switch our gaze to the imperials and the Empire. There is no personal sacrifice. I'll be using Krennic as my example for this: When delivering his presentation to the selected imperials, there is no personal sacrifice on his part. Instead its the Ghormans. A peaceful people who just wish to be left alone. He wants them to sacrifice everything: their homes, their history, their culture - their planet.

Even with the other imperials in attendance, he holds no personal claim to protect, or shield them if they fail, in their assigned tasks. He even states that if one of them breaches security protocol; they're on their own.

The Rebellion is built on hope and sacrifice.

The Empire is built on the blood and sweat of those who were sacrificed in order to keep the imperial war machines cogs turning.

[queerfables]

Why all the crowd scenes look the same, aka: Something is WRONG in Soho

I'm not even gonna tease and draw this out because it's so cool it doesn't need the fanfare. Ready?

Season 2 takes place over the course of 5 days. During that time, most of the passersby in Soho - maybe even all of them - stay exactly the same. It's the same people every day, wearing the exact same clothes, and they wander through the neighbourhood in paths that don't make any sense. You won't be able to unsee it. I can't believe it's taken us this long to realise.

Don't believe me? Rewatch the scene from 2x03, I Know Where I'm Going where Shax confronts Crowley outside the bookshop, appearing in a series of different guises. Pay attention to the people going past.

I've marked out five people you see on screen when Crowley first exits the bookshop at 39:37:

Numbers 1, 2 and 3 are following the path right. Number 4 follows the path left. Number 5 crosses the road.

Here the five people are again, at 40:19, when Crowley goes to return to the bookshop:

Number 5 is still visible in the distance, in the direction she walked in. This makes sense! But numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4 are rounding the same corner they just passed. It's as though 1, 2 and 3 all decided to turn and head back the way they came just 40 seconds ago, and number 4 has circled the block to join them.

This on its own would be super weird, but they're not the only people to do that in this scene. The man in the purple sweater from the first picture crosses the road, then appears back next to the bookshop, then starts walking back the way he came again.

Here's the part that made me absolutely certain, though. At 40:05, a man wearing an orange hoodie with blue sleeves walks past Crowley, who is heading towards the bookshop entrance.

The camera cuts to a view from behind Crowley, and a moment later, at 40:08...

He reappears in front of Crowley and walks past him again.

It's such a distinctive outfit, there's no mistaking it. They are absolutely fucking with the background characters and they are absolutely doing it on purpose.

Your turn. There are at least three other characters in this scene who pass by multiple times. Watch it again and try to spot them.

This scene is really chaotic and obvious, but the phenomena I'm talking about is much bigger than just one scene. Let's go back to the first thing I said: the background characters don't change. All our leads do. Maggie and Nina wear distinctive outfits, clearly demarcating each new day. Even Crowley and Aziraphale, who in season 1 were like cartoon characters with wardrobes full of identical clothing, vary their looks. Crowley changes his (very subtly) each day; Aziraphale is less rigid on timing, but he has a few different coats that he switches between. The background characters, on the other hand, wear the same outfits every single day. They walk by on the street but they never actually seem to have a destination. They sit in the coffee shop or pub and don't eat or drink anything, and nearly everyone leaves together exactly on closing time. It's eerie.

For reference's sake, here's a rough timeline of season 2, with pictures of Maggie and Nina's outfits to show the passing of time. I had to outsource this section because my post was too image heavy, lol. The main point I wanted to make is that five days go by.

Five days, and all the same faces keep showing up in the background, and almost none of them change their clothes. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but there's no way it's an accident. It might, in fact, be a game changer. To me this is proof positive that something is not as it seems. I've been a massive Clue skeptic, adamant that I'd only be convinced by the most unambiguous evidence, and honestly? This is enough to move the dials. It's too big for me to ignore. Whatever grand explanation of Good Omens we come up with has to account for this. I don't have it yet, but my current working theories are that Crowley and Aziraphale are under some seriously heavy surveillance, that time warping is involved, or that reality itself is not what it seems.

It would take a really long time for me to go through all of the background characters who turn up over and over but I do want to show you what I'm talking about. To wrap up, then, I'm going to pick out some memorable characters and walk you through a few of their appearances through the week. I highly recommend looking out for this yourself on your next rewatch and seeing how many other characters you can recognise.

Yellow Skirt

The first person I kept coming back to as being not quite right. You probably remember her from the first episode - she's the one who waves and walks past Maggie and Nina the night they're locked in together. Incidentally, she's also Person Number 3 in the scene with Shax.

Day 1 (2x01 - 36:20):

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:03)

Day 3 (2x03 - 06:36)

Day 5 (2x06 - 30:00)

Coolest Leather Jacket In The World

It's not so easy to recognise people wearing lots of nondescript dark colours, but I love his hair and his jacket, so he stood out to me. I think there might be a lot more people who are wearing fairly nondescript clothes who I just can't recognise from episode to episode.

Day 2 (2x02 - 16:44)

Day 4 (2x04 - 41:20)

Day 5 (2x06 - 29:20)

Dressed In Mustard

Ms Mustard shows up everywhere. If you want to see what I mean about their paths not making sense, pay attention when she comes on screen, because she'll often show up a few times in succession and walk very purposefully to nowhere in particular. The thing that she is doing, essentially, is behaving like an extra in a tv show. Which of course she is, but you're supposed to make that invisible by not having the same person go back and forth in the same scene, or changing up their outfit each in-universe day to give the sense time is passing. Not doing that is a really deliberate choice.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:37)

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:03)

Day 3 (2x03 - 01:49)

Day 3 (2x03 - 37:07)

Day 5 (2x06 - 29:59)

Swishy Dress

This character shows up a lot in the first episode. I've struggled to find her in later episodes, though. None of the characters seem to follow the same patterns or show up to equal extents each day, which makes me think this isn't a straightforward time loop. I haven't actually cross referenced character appearances to in world times, though. Possibly this is a project for someone who's more across the time-related shenanigans than me.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:43)

Day 3 (2x03 - 07:01)

Yellow Vest

I've only seen this guy a handful of times, always around the French restaurant. I wonder if there's significance to that.

Day 2 (2x02 - 41:06)

Day 4 (2x05 - 12:49)

Fuzzy Blue Coat

Another background character who shows up frequently. The blue doesn't stand out quite as much as the yellows and reds some characters wear, but it's very distinctive.

While we're getting a lot of shots of the street, it's worth noting that I'm pretty sure the vehicles we see are also just the same few cars repeating each day. A lot of them are in neutral silvers and monochrome, but there's a couple of blue cars, one red, and one black and white that I'm fairly sure I've seen over and over through the season.

Day 1 (2x01 - 22:45)

Day 2 (2x02 - 42:04)

Day 3 (2x03 - 02:00)

Day 5 (2x06 - 40:10)

Day 5 (2x06 - 48:56)

Day 5 (2x06 - 50:06)

One final note: Whatever this is, Nina's employee who you see in the background at the coffeeshop sometimes isn't affected by it. He's wearing different outfits each day. On the other hand, some of the other shopkeepers do seem affected. I'm fairly sure Mr Brown and Mrs Sandwich wear the same outfits a few different days, only changing because of Aziraphale at the ball.

And that's it! Thanks for reading and I hope your mind is blown as much as mine is.

EDIT:

Hey I don't mind anyone pointing out production reasons that this might be the case or disagreeing with my analysis (over-analysis, some might say 😉). Please be kind about it, though. I'm not ignorant of the practical limitations involved in film making, but some of these costumes were really distinctive in a way I thought might be intended to draw attention.

For those of you who do find this theory convincing, I feel I should mention that I was working under the assumption that this stuff would have taken a few days to film, even filming it all together. That would strongly suggest that the actors were deliberately costumed the exact same way over multiple days of shooting, which made me think it had to be purposeful. @coranax was kind enough to point out, though, that behind the scenes videos said the extras were filmed separately to the main actors because of Covid protocols. In that case, they could have done it in just one day and that weakens my confidence in its intentionality.

Finally, all of my points about the scene with Shax in 2x03 stand. That was not a case of accidental continuity errors, it was really elegantly choreographed to enhance the tension in the scene. I say that with confidence because the extras are doing exactly what Shax is doing: circling Crowley, appearing where he doesn't expect them, creating a whirlwind sense of being off balance and out of control. I think it's really cool and effective, whether there's a deeper meaning to it or not.

[bogleech]

Guess I have to make a main thread about this. Someone decided to fight with me in the notes on this post just yesterday about Gaza and made select responses of mine into a callout thread here, where they say my anger towards the IDF is all a cover for antisemitism. This didn't make any sense, because they said they were also against the IDF killing civilians, and I repeatedly said that Jewish people aren't to blame for the IDF or represented by the IDF in any way, putting us supposedly both on the exact same page. What gerry leaves out of their own screenshots, and I'd actually forgotten, is that at first they came at me from an angle that I was disrespecting the victims in Gaza.

So this implies they feel gaza is being subjected to a genocide, and a pretty big one, since they're upset my language made it sound "smaller and tamer." When it becomes obvious that I do in fact consider it a serious genocide, that's when they switch over to saying that my criticism of Netanyahu or the IDF is inherently an attack on Jewish people.

Notice I never actually said "zionists" in this screenshot, even, but that I defined "regular humans" as humans who don't want to kill innocent families. That would automatically include Jewish people since they overall do not wish to kill anyone, but have in fact spent quite a lot more time trying not to get killed. I believe there may be entire books about this fact! I think there's even whole museums about it, if I'm not mistaken?!

So then they pivot to saying I'm an antisemite because I said the IDF and its supporters can "burn in hell," and they say "invoking hell" is an antisemitic dogwhistle, which is definitely news to me?!

So I tried to clarify, again, that I'm only angry at the people who are themselves killing civilians and the "pro-genocide maniacs" who defend the killing of civilians, which they responded to as if I had "lumped them in" with those. You can just see right there that I didn't make any assumption that they were a part of that at all. Thanks to their earlier comments I still thought I was speaking to someone 100% against the IDF's actions, but every time I said that the killers and their advocates alone are bad, they've framed it in some new way as me just not liking anyone Jewish. So now that you have that context:

...In a response to an ask, they finally just say they hated me to begin with and set out with the intention to "bait and sealion" me (their own words!!) into saying something they hoped would be antisemitic, which they believe was successful despite me never saying anything about Jews other than "this isn't their fault." They saw what they admittedly wanted to, so strongly, that they show me saying "this isn't the fault of Jews" as evidence that I blame Jews. But speaking of people "going mask off"

In multiple more recent posts and asks, this person appears to say that they simply do not believe the IDF is really targeting children or ambulances or relief aid, that "none of those are true," and the deliberate targeting of any children is supposedly just a conspiracy theory??? So I guess they did successfully troll me and I feel like a real gullible dumbass, because the only reason I continued responding to this person in the first place was that they said they were in fact against the ongoing massacre. Instead, these comments sound like they think the IDF is being unfairly vilified by dishonest propagandists, and that's why they hated me enough to try and fish for callout fuel. That's the nastiest fucking thing anyone's yet pulled on me about this and it's not one that I'm just going to ignore. I should have smelled a troll early on and just blocked them, but it's SO hard for me to suspect ulterior motives. I always go in thinking people mean well, and that there's just a miscommunication we can work out. I almost feel like this individual noticed that and tried to exploit it?!? Unfortunately I'm sure this kind of thing will happen again simply because I don't intend to obediently shut up about what's being done to Gaza. It's not logistically possible for the death and destruction to all just be accidental collateral damage. Don't let anybody ever fool you into thinking the IDF is the face of the Jewish community or vice-versa, just as you can't let anyone fool you into thinking Hamas represents all Palestinians. Especially don't engage this person, stop doing so if you have been, and block them.

[shiorihyugawrites]

Red Regrets

Twelve years ago, Levi Ackerman made the hardest decision of his life—he left behind the only woman he ever loved, believing it was for her own good. But fate is cruel, and when a fiery redheaded boy with a familiar scowl crosses his path, Levi is forced to confront the past he abandoned. The truth he never knew. And the woman whose heart he shattered. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Four

The wind whistled through the dense canopy of tall pines, sending a hush over the secluded clearing where Levi’s squad had set up camp. The wooden cabin stood in the center of a small meadow, its weathered logs blending into the surrounding forest. From a distance, no one would guess that inside, the Scouts were harboring two of the most wanted individuals in all the Walls: Eren Jaeger, the Titan shifter, and Historia Reiss, the girl with mysterious ties to the church.

For the past week, Levi and his squad had been living on edge. Hange was busy with Eren’s experiments, pushing him to transform, but the results were inconsistent and yielded little in the way of groundbreaking discoveries. Meanwhile, Historia paced uneasily by the cabin windows, dreading the moment the government might finally catch up to them. Jean, Connie, and Sasha kept watch on the perimeter, switching out in shifts. Mikasa and Armin aided Hange and Eren when they could, but they also struggled to keep up morale. Tensions ran high, and no one dared to speculate too loudly about what would happen if Commander Erwin was arrested. Or worse, if the monarchy declared the entire Scout Regiment outlawed.

For his part, Levi sat at a battered wooden table in the cabin’s single main room, surrounded by the hush of late afternoon. His elbows rested on the tabletop, fingers steepled in front of his chin. He’d barely slept all week. On paper, he was entirely focused on the mission—he was the squad’s leader, entrusted with Eren’s life, with Historia’s safety. Yet something else gnawed at him every waking moment. Penelope. Preston. Their faces kept forcing their way into his thoughts at the most inconvenient times.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he pictured Penelope’s furious glare, the sting of her accusations in his ears. He recalled the heartbreak in her voice when she reminded him how he had left her. And, looming alongside that guilt, the memory of the redheaded brat who looked so much like him. Preston was his son—Levi had no doubt now. But the knowledge only deepened the ache he felt, because Penelope had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

He wondered if she was all right, if Preston was going to class now or still skipping and getting into fights. But how could he check on them without going against her wishes? A simmering frustration built in him: he was Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, but he felt powerless to mend the damage he had caused.

His train of thought was interrupted when the cabin door creaked open. Jean and Connie shuffled in, carrying small sacks of freshly gathered herbs. Sasha followed behind, a disappointed expression on her face.

“Still no game,” Sasha muttered, tossing her quiver of arrows onto a nearby chair. “I swear, it’s like the wildlife heard we were coming and decided to run for the hills.”

Jean set the herbs down, stretching the kinks out of his back. “Well, it’s better than nothing. Hange can probably use these to help with Eren’s post-transformation headaches.”

Levi regarded them with his usual unreadable expression. “Don’t slack,” he said tersely. “If we can’t hunt, we’ll need to ration what’s left. And be mindful of any tracks. We can’t risk the Military Police finding us.”

Jean and Connie nodded, heading to the far side of the room where they began sorting the herbs. Sasha, momentarily hesitant, picked up her quiver and murmured something about checking her arrows. Then she vanished into the next room.

Silence settled again, broken only by the murmur of hushed voices from Eren and Hange outside as they conducted yet another test of his Titan powers. In the distance, the faint sound of Armin directing Historia on some chore drifted through the open window.

Levi leaned back in his chair, pressing his palms flat against the table. His body practically vibrated with pent-up anxiety. He knew he needed to keep calm, but his thoughts kept straying. He scolded himself for the lapse—this was no time for personal distractions. Yet whenever he tried to refocus on Eren’s plight or Historia’s secret heritage, an image of Penelope inevitably rose in his mind.

He sensed movement in the main room again: Connie and Jean had paused their work and were standing close together, whispering. Their eyes flickered surreptitiously toward Levi. He caught sight of the way Jean’s mouth twisted in a half-smile of curiosity, and Connie’s eyebrows rose as though he were describing something outlandish. Levi’s expression darkened, suspecting they were gossiping about something. Or more specifically, about him.

He allowed them another few moments to continue, feigning disinterest. But eventually, he stood and walked up behind them, silent as a cat. Jean was in mid-sentence. “You remember that kid at HQ? Fiery red hair—”

“Looked kinda like the Captain,” Connie interjected in a hushed tone. “You think—”

They both froze the instant they realized Levi was right behind them. Jean’s face went pale, and Connie hastily cleared his throat. “Uh, Captain… we were just—”

Levi stared down, arms crossed, voice flat. “Just what?”

Jean, swallowing hard, glanced at Connie. “We were just, uh, wondering about that redheaded kid who turned HQ upside down last week. We heard rumors he was looking for you. Then he just… vanished.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed. He had no intention of explaining the truth to them—not yet, anyway. “That is none of your business,” he said calmly, though a cold edge sharpened his words. “He’s not a threat. That’s all you need to know.”

Connie took a half-step back, raising his hands. “Of course, Captain,” he said quickly. “We were just curious. The rest of the squad’s been speculating.”

Levi’s jaw tightened. “Tch. Focus on your duties. Curiosity can get you killed.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, pushing it open to step outside into the crisp forest air. He didn’t bother glancing back to see Jean and Connie exchange uneasy looks. The truth was, he felt guilty for snapping at them. But the swirl of private turmoil in his mind made him impatient with anything that reminded him of Preston.

The late afternoon sun angled through the clearing, casting long shadows across the grass. A short distance away, Eren was sitting against a tree stump, sweat beading his brow, while Hange scribbled furiously into a notebook. Mikasa hovered nearby, arms folded protectively.

Levi scanned the horizon. If the Military Police or any government dogs came lurking, this vantage point gave him a clear line of sight. There was no immediate sign of danger, though that did little to soothe him. He wanted to do a perimeter check to keep himself busy, but he also felt the urge to walk deeper into the woods alone, if only to gather his thoughts away from everyone else’s prying eyes.

As he stood there, torn between duty and his own tangled emotions, Hange caught sight of him. “Oi, Levi!” she called, waving her free hand enthusiastically. “Come check this out!”

Levi sighed and walked over. Eren glanced up at him, panting slightly from his earlier transformation attempt. Steam still rose faintly from a few superficial cuts on his arm. Hange, ever the fervent scientist, pointed to the notebook. “Eren’s Titan form is responding oddly. He’s having trouble maintaining structure around the wrists and forearms. It’s almost like the Titan’s body is rejecting something.”

Levi’s mind reeled, trying to refocus on the problem at hand. “Could it be fatigue? Or maybe an incomplete command from Eren’s side?”

Eren shrugged, wincing as Mikasa dabbed at a lingering burn on his skin. “I’ve tried different mental images, but it keeps failing. That, plus the fact we have to stay hidden here, means I can’t push too hard or risk drawing attention with a full transformation.”

Hange hummed thoughtfully, scribbling again. “I might need to dissect this further, but that’s a risk in itself. We can’t transform too often, or the MPs might see the steam from miles away.”

Mikasa watched Levi’s face. “Captain,” she said softly, “are you alright? You’ve seemed… tense lately.”

Levi didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze on Eren’s injuries. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Worry about Eren.”

Mikasa fell silent, recognizing that pressing him was futile. Hange, completely immersed in her notes, missed the subtle exchange altogether. She launched into a monologue about Titan physiology, spouting theories that Levi had heard countless times. Ordinarily, he tried to follow the threads of her logic, but today, his thoughts were miles away—back in Wall Sina, with Penelope. He recalled the heartbreak in her eyes, the same gaze that once looked upon him with unwavering devotion.

Eren cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “We’ll keep testing, Captain,” he said, trying to mask the strain in his voice. “Just tell us if you see anything suspicious out there. I’ll do my best to remain inconspicuous.”

Levi nodded. “Don’t push yourself too hard. We don’t need you passing out.”

Hange clapped the notebook shut. “Alright, I think that’s enough for now. Let’s give Eren a break and continue tomorrow morning. I still have to sort through these notes.”

The small group dispersed. Mikasa helped Eren to his feet and guided him back toward the cabin. Hange lingered a moment, adjusting her glasses and peering at Levi with curiosity. “I noticed you’re a bit quiet, even for you,” she ventured. “You doing okay? I know you have a lot going on right now…”

“I’m fine,” Levi answered immediately, the edge in his voice discouraging further inquiry. He turned away, scanning the tree line. “I’m going to do a perimeter check.”

“Understood,” Hange said, though he felt her eyes on him a moment longer. Then she trudged off in the same direction as Eren and Mikasa, flipping through her notes.

Levi walked the perimeter alone, footsteps rustling fallen pine needles. The forest smelled of resin and damp earth, a sharp contrast to the polished floors of the clinic he’d visited last week. His mind kept drifting, conjuring Penelope’s image with painful clarity. In a single moment, she’d reminded him of everything they’d shared and lost. A longing he’d tried to bury came roaring back, a fierce need to protect her and their son, balanced against the sobering truth that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

He paused at a small stream, watching the water ripple over smooth stones. His reflection stared back at him, eyes shadowed with fatigue. Did he truly have the right to force his way back into Penelope’s life, after all he’d done? Did he even have the capacity to be a father, when the only paternal figure he’d known was Kenny—a serial killer who vanished from his life as quickly as he’d appeared?

Levi’s jaw tightened. He recalled the helplessness he’d felt as a child in the Underground, and how Penelope became one of the only bright spots in his grim world. The taste of that memory was bittersweet: she was once everything to him, and now she was a seething reminder of what he’d ruined. The ache in his chest grew sharper. He could respect her wish for distance, but that didn’t dull the longing inside him. And then there was Preston—his son—who deserved the truth, even if that truth was messy and fraught with pain.

A muffled shout from the direction of the cabin snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned instinctively, hand moving toward his blades, until he recognized Jean’s distinct voice. No sign of real danger. Probably another argument over chores or some small mishap. He let out a quiet breath, reminding himself that the safety of Eren and the squad demanded his primary focus. Dwelling on regrets wouldn’t help them survive.

And yet, he knew he couldn’t let the matter rest forever. Once the looming threat of the government had been handled—one way or another—he would go back. He had to, no matter how many times Penelope tried to kick him out. The only question was whether she’d ever be willing to give him a second chance, or at least let him be part of Preston’s life. Part of him doubted it. But hope, frail as a candle flame, refused to die in the depths of his chest.

Levi turned away from the stream, continuing his patrol. The forest seemed endless, silent except for the occasional rustle of wildlife. He walked deeper, scanning the surroundings with a soldier’s vigilance. Yet in the back of his mind, thoughts of Penelope lingered like a haunting refrain, and he knew that no matter what lay ahead for the Scout Regiment, a different sort of battle awaited him when it came to the woman he’d once protected—and the family he’d left behind.

…

The forest was eerily quiet that night, save for the occasional rustle of leaves whispering in the breeze and the distant chirp of insects. The air was crisp and cold, the kind that sank into your bones and made you want to wrap yourself in every blanket you could find. But Levi was unfazed. He stood on the porch of the cabin, leaning against one of the worn wooden beams with his arms folded tightly across his chest, keeping his sharp eyes fixed on the dark treeline beyond. His blade was strapped to his hip out of habit, and his breath came out in soft, slow puffs as he scanned the area for any sign of movement. The moon hung low above them, half-hidden behind the shifting clouds.

This was always his time—the middle of the night when everyone else slept and the weight of leadership pressed down the hardest. It gave him space to think, though lately, his thoughts were the last thing he wanted to be left alone with.

Penelope. Preston. Their faces had been burned into his mind since the moment he left her clinic. He couldn’t stop replaying her words, the slap she nearly delivered, the bitterness in her eyes. And Preston… the way the brat looked at him, equal parts hopeful and confused, as if waiting for Levi to step up and claim something he wasn't sure he had the right to claim.

Levi was so lost in thought he almost didn’t hear the soft creak of the cabin door opening behind him.

“Oi,” Hange’s familiar voice called quietly. “Mind some company?”

Levi barely turned his head. “Tch. Do what you want.”

She stepped out into the night, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her glasses glinted faintly in the moonlight as she joined him by the railing, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the wooden beam, peering out at the trees like she might see whatever it was Levi had been staring at for the past hour.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” she said after a moment, her tone casual but not unkind. “And, yeah, yeah, I know—you’re always quiet. But this is… different.”

Levi didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained fixed on the dark horizon. “We’ve got a lot on our plates.”

“We do,” Hange agreed, nodding. “But you’re not thinking about Eren. Or Historia. Or the government breathing down our necks. Don’t bother denying it.”

He gave her a sideways glance but didn’t argue. There was no point. Hange wasn’t a fool.

She shifted, casting him a small, knowing smile. “How’s Dr. Iverson?”

Levi’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he contemplated brushing it off. But what was the use? Hange already knew. She and Erwin were the only ones who did. “She told me to stay away,” he muttered, voice low. “And she meant it.”

Hange hummed softly, rocking on her heels. “Can’t blame her. You did kinda abandon her, huh?”

Levi shot her a glare, but Hange just shrugged, unbothered. “What? I’m not wrong. You really know how to make a mess of things.”

Levi sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. I know.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, the night pressing in around them. Somewhere inside the cabin, a floorboard creaked, probably Jean turning over in his sleep. Levi closed his eyes briefly, wishing for just a moment of peace from his own mind. But Hange wasn’t done yet.

“I gotta admit,” she said, grinning now as she nudged him with her elbow, “I didn’t think you had it in you back then. You? Of all people? Falling for someone like her?”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Hange laughed softly. “She’s… well, you know. Gorgeous. Brilliant. Fiery as hell. You, meanwhile, have the personality of a brick wall and the charm of a feral cat.”

Levi scoffed under his breath. “Tch. Thanks.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, clearly enjoying herself now. “Back in your youth, I bet you thought you were pretty smooth, huh? How’d you manage to pull someone like Dr. Iverson? I mean, seriously. You’ve been scowling since the day I met you.”

Levi shook his head, looking back out at the trees. “I didn’t ‘pull her’. She chose me.”

That earned a thoughtful pause from Hange. She looked at him with something almost like respect. “Huh. Guess that makes sense. She seems like the type who goes after what she wants.”

“She did,” Levi said quietly. “I was just some punk kid in the Underground. She could’ve looked right past me. But she didn’t.”

Hange tilted her head. “You loved her.”

Still do, Levi thought but didn’t say. Instead, he gave the smallest nod. “Yeah.”

Hange leaned back against the railing, watching him with an uncharacteristically soft gaze. “You ever think about trying to eventually fix things with her? I mean, now that you know about Preston…”

Levi closed his eyes briefly. “Every damn day.”

She gave a short laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

“To me? Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence again, the kind that only old friends could share without it feeling heavy. Levi appreciated that Hange didn’t press him too hard. She knew when to back off, even if she had a tendency to push his buttons.

“I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me,” Levi admitted after a long pause. “And maybe she shouldn’t. But... I can’t just pretend like it never happened. Like Preston isn’t mine.”

“Good,” Hange said, adjusting her glasses. “Because whether she forgives you or not, that kid deserves to know his father. And I think you’re better at this kind of thing than you give yourself credit for.”

Levi shot her a skeptical look.

“Well,” she amended with a grin, “not much better. But better.”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “Tch. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Anytime, Captain.” She patted his arm before turning back toward the door. “Get some rest when you can, alright? Even brooding needs sleep.”

Levi grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t move from his spot. Hange slipped back inside, leaving him alone with the night, the cold air, and the ache in his chest that hadn’t eased since the moment he laid eyes on Penelope again.

He glanced up at the stars overhead, wondering if she was looking at the same sky, wondering if Preston had gone to bed already, if she’d finally managed to stop being angry long enough to just... breathe.

Levi knew he couldn’t stay away forever. Sooner or later, he was going back. Whether Penelope liked it or not, they had unfinished business.

And this time, he wasn’t running from it.

…

A few days later, Penelope settled into her chair, exhaling a quiet sigh as she watched the last of her young medical students leave the clinic. Their eager voices still rang in her ears, that mixture of excitement and anxiety she remembered so vividly from her own days as an up-and-coming medical prodigy. She ran a hand over her desk, smoothing out the scattered lecture notes. Despite the lingering chaos on her work surface, the clinic felt oddly calm. It was nearing the end of the day, and she was looking forward to a peaceful evening at home with Preston.

She had sent her nurse off early, wanting to give the woman a little free time before the sun fully set. Besides, Penelope anticipated little to no foot traffic at this hour. In theory, the only person who should be stepping inside was Preston. He often finished school a bit later than other kids his age because he was involved in additional studies and extracurricular activities. Lately, though, she’d noticed he wasn’t as keen on those extra commitments—no doubt distracted by everything that had happened involving Captain Levi.

Levi Ackerman. The name sent a flood of conflicting emotions through her chest. She rested her elbows on the desk and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Why couldn’t she get him out of her mind? She hated him, or at least she told herself she did. But under that anger lived a different kind of pain—one that still stung every time she recalled his touch, his fierce protectiveness, his rare, warm smiles that had once been reserved for her alone. She told herself it was better to stay away, that letting him back in would only risk more heartbreak. Preston deserved stability, not a father who might vanish into the chaos of Titan battles, leaving them both broken.

She inhaled, deciding to set those thoughts aside. Preston had been on better behavior lately, attending school without skipping and coming home at a reasonable hour. Perhaps, she mused, they could head out to dinner or just spend the night cooking a meal together. She wanted to reward him, maybe buy him that pastry he always ogled through the bakery window. Something normal, something happy to wash away the tension that had settled between them in the aftermath of Levi’s sudden return.

The chime of the front door broke her reverie. She smiled to herself and stood, stretching her stiff back. “Preston?” she called, her voice echoing in the clinic’s small lobby. “You’re early for once. Did you—”

Silence. No answer. That was odd. Preston usually replied with some sarcastic retort or at least a grumble. Penelope took a few steps forward, edging out of her office and into the front corridor. Perhaps he was teasing her, playing a trick. She allowed the barest hint of a smile to tug at her lips. “Preston, don’t ignore me,” she said, scanning the hallway. “I’m not in the mood for hide-and-seek.”

Still nothing. The quiet was unsettling. Her smile faded, replaced by an uneasy knot in her stomach. She cleared her throat and rounded the corner into the waiting area. “Preston?” she tried again, voice tightening. “If you’re trying to scare me, cut it out.”

Then she saw him.

Her heart lurched in her chest as her gaze landed on Preston. He stood near the entrance, gagged with a cloth that wrapped around the lower half of his face. His eyes were wide and terrified. His hands, bound behind his back, struggled against the rope that cut into his wrists. The sight nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“Mom!” he mumbled through the cloth, his voice muffled but desperate.

Behind Preston stood a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. His face was shadowed by the brim, but what little she could see of his features was etched with a smug confidence. Around him, three other figures in black uniforms lingered, each armed with strange, compact gear that Penelope had never seen before. It looked like the Omni-Directional Mobility Gear that many soldiers used, but modified in some lethal, specialized way.

Penelope’s gaze snapped back to Preston, who was trembling, his shoulders stiff. Fury and fear slammed through her in equal measure. Without hesitation, she took a step forward. “Let him go,” she demanded, voice low and sharp. “Now.”

The tall man tilted his head, revealing more of his angular jaw and the lines around his cold eyes. “Evening,” he drawled, voice tinged with amusement. “You must be Dr. Iverson. Heard a bit about you.” He tightened his grip on Preston’s collar, making the boy flinch. “We’ll be taking you and your brat for a little ride.”

Penelope’s fists clenched. She fought to keep her composure, though her rage surged dangerously. “I don’t know who you are,” she ground out, “but you need to leave before I notify the Military Police. If you—”

The man barked out a laugh, loud and mocking. “Oh, sweetheart, we are the Military Police.” One of his associates, a woman with short blonde hair, snickered at Penelope’s reaction. “Name’s Kenny,” the tall man added. “Kenny Ackerman, to be precise. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Penelope’s stomach twisted at the last name. Ackerman? Like Levi? She struggled to remain calm, refusing to show fear. “If you work for the Military Police, there’s no reason to hold us hostage,” she said carefully, casting a worried glance at her son. “Whatever you want, you can’t just break in here—”

Kenny waved a hand dismissively. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I can do whatever I want.” He then nodded to the blonde woman at his side. “Caven, be a dear and bring our good doctor along.”

Caven stepped forward, and Penelope’s instincts kicked into overdrive. In a flash, Penelope reached into the pocket of her coat, finding the small scalpel she always kept on her person. The moment Caven stretched out her hand, Penelope slashed at her, slicing through the fabric of the woman’s uniform and into the flesh of her arm. Caven hissed in pain and jerked back, blood staining the black fabric.

“You little—” Caven began, but Penelope was already moving, aiming the scalpel at Kenny himself. She might not have been a soldier, but growing up in the Underground, plus her medical knowledge, gave her enough nerve to fight back.

Kenny smirked, stepping aside with practiced ease. Before Penelope could adjust her angle, another squad member lunged in from behind, pressing a cloth against her mouth. The chemical odor assaulted her senses immediately, sickly sweet and overpowering. She tried to struggle, tried to twist away, but her body weakened as the substance invaded her lungs.

Her scalpel clattered to the floor, and her vision blurred. She heard Preston shout something muffled through the gag, but she could barely make sense of it. Kenny’s figure swam into her line of sight. As her knees buckled, he caught her with an almost mocking gentleness.

“Feisty one, ain’t she,” Kenny remarked, eyeing her with amusement. He reached up and fingered a lock of her rose-red hair. “Such a pretty color.” In one swift motion, he drew a knife and sawed through a portion of her hair, pocketing the severed strands. “Might need this later.”

Penelope tried to speak, to curse at him, but the drug’s potency overwhelmed her. Darkness crowded her vision, and she sank into unconsciousness, her last coherent thought a desperate concern for Preston’s safety.

Preston watched in horror as his mother slumped in Kenny’s arms. Tears gathered in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. Fear and anger churned in his chest. He struggled uselessly against the ropes binding his wrists, wanting nothing more than to lash out at the tall man who held his mother captive.

“Don’t hurt her,” he tried to say, voice muffled by the gag.

Kenny’s gaze slid over to the boy, an unsettling grin forming on his lips. “Don’t worry, kid,” he said, though there was no warmth in his tone. “As long as she cooperates, she’ll be fine. We just need to get the attention of a certain Captain Levi.”

Preston’s heart stuttered. Levi. This had something to do with him? He glared back, though with the gag in place, he could only manage muffled noises of protest. Two members of the squad grabbed him by the arms, dragging him toward the door while Kenny carried the unconscious Penelope.

Outside, a dark carriage waited. The horse snorted, stomping a hoof as the group approached. The driver, a wiry man with a patchy beard, opened the carriage doors. Kenny climbed in first, settling Penelope onto the seat with a casual air, as if she were some package he’d picked up. Caven, nursing her wounded arm, slipped in beside him, grimacing at the blood on her uniform.

Preston was forced in next, shoved onto the bench opposite his mother, still gagged and bound. The last two members of the squad followed, their menacing presence crowding the cramped interior. One of them slammed the doors shut.

“Move,” Kenny barked to the driver, and the carriage lurched forward.

Preston winced at the rough motion, staring helplessly at his mother, who remained unconscious, her head lolling against the seat. The severed lock of her rose-red hair in Kenny’s coat pocket was a vivid reminder of how vulnerable they were. Despair washed over Preston, followed by a burst of fierce determination. If Levi truly cared about them at all, maybe he’d come. If not… he didn’t want to think about what might happen.

Kenny leaned back, resting a hand on his hat. “Showtime,” he murmured, an almost gleeful edge to his voice. “Let’s see if that little runt got any heart left in that cold chest of his.”

Preston swallowed hard, closing his eyes. His mother’s limp form was the only reason he didn’t thrash about. He knew any sudden movement might provoke these people into hurting her more. Silent tears threatened to spill as the carriage rattled over the cobblestones, carrying them away to an unknown fate. All he could do was pray that someone would come for them—someone with the strength and resolve to shatter this terrible nightmare.

…

A few hours later…

Levi crouched low on the slanted rooftop, the evening sky painted in deep purples and reds behind him. Nifa knelt at his side, warily scanning the deserted streets below. The air felt tense—he and Nifa had come here to regroup, to decide their next move now that the government was after Eren and Historia. His mind was swirling with a thousand concerns: the fact that they were severely outnumbered, that they didn’t know who to trust, and, uncomfortably, the memory of Penelope and Preston. It had been days since he’d heard anything about them, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to subside.

“Captain Levi,” Nifa murmured, glancing at him with apprehension. “Are you sure we should be out in the open like this? The Military Police—”

She never finished.

A thunderous crack sliced through the hush. Levi’s soldier instincts kicked in too late—Nifa’s eyes widened, and she collapsed forward onto the roof tiles. Blood spattered across the bricks, and Levi’s heart pounded. He lunged toward her, but she was gone before he could utter a word. The shot had taken her clean through the head.

He twisted, scanning frantically for the shooter. A second shot ricocheted off a chimney near his shoulder, forcing him to roll away. Crouching behind a stone outcropping, he craned his neck and spotted a familiar silhouette perched on a higher rooftop across the narrow street. Wide-brimmed hat, long coat, bristling with weapons. Levi’s blood ran cold.

“KENNY!” he growled as he threw his blade, the name thick with a mixture of rage and an old bitterness. Of course it had to be him. His old mentor, or tormentor, depending on how you looked at it. A man who taught him the darkness of the underground, the brutality of survival.

He had no time to mourn Nifa. Another bullet whizzed past, forcing him to dart to the roof’s edge. He heard Kenny’s laughter echo off the stone walls—sharp, mocking, and chilling. Leviheard the cracking of rooftiles as he launched himself into the air, using his ODM gear to pivot around a rising spire. With one final glance at the fallen bodies of his squadmate, Levi sped off, desperate to find cover.

Below, the city streets erupted in chaos. Civilians scattered at the sound of gunfire echoing between tall buildings. Levi angled toward a main boulevard just in time to see a horse-drawn carriage tearing away, the top shredded by grappling hooks. Inside that carriage, Eren and Historia were visible for only an instant before tranquilizer darts took them down. Levi recognized their expressions—shock, confusion, and then sudden unconsciousness. His jaw clenched as he realized the carriage driver was also killed. Another shot from above forced Levi to yank on his ODM triggers, soaring sideways to avoid being gunned down.

He caught a glimpse of more black-clad individuals—Kenny’s Anti-Personnel Control Squad—swooping in with specially modified gear of their own. The carriage careened around a corner, Eren and Historia slumped inside. Levi lunged after it, hooking onto a tall clock tower, but then two more members of Kenny’s squad intercepted him midair. Their guns boomed, and Levi contorted his body to avoid the deadly barrage. Smoke filled the alleyway from the constant firing of rifles. Levi’s mind raced: Eren and Historia were being taken away, and he was running out of time.

A bullet tore through the edge of his head, narrowly missing flesh. Levi hissed in frustration, forced to retreat. He veered sharply onto a side street, zipping between narrow gaps. The enemy was persistent, grappling after him, the staccato bursts of gunfire trailing him. He spotted a small, unassuming sign for a bar up ahead. Without a second thought, he fired his ODM gear and dove inside the establishment’s door, landing in a crouch on the counter.

Startled cries erupted from the patrons and the bartender. Levi lifted a hand, signaling them to keep quiet before diving behind the bar. Outside, the clamoring footsteps of Kenny’s squad approached. He drew a long breath, trying to compose himself amid the adrenaline surging through his veins. Then came the creak of the door. Kenny busted in, his boots clacking against the worn floorboards. The patrons froze, and even the bartender looked paralyzed by fear.

Kenny’s voice, rich with twisted amusement, filled the bar. “Levi, my boy, come out now. Don’t make me ruin this fine establishment.”

Levi didn’t move, but he peered through a gap in the bar’s wooden paneling. He could see Kenny from the knees down, the tall boots, the edge of that signature coat.

“Got your attention with that little greeting on the rooftops,” Kenny went on. “But I’ve got something else to show you.” There was a pause, and Levi heard a rustling of fabric. “Maybe you’ll recognize this.”

Levi peeked farther, and his heart clamped in his chest. In Kenny’s hand was a small lock of rose-red hair, the ends haphazardly cut. Levi knew that color immediately. Penelope. The sight struck him like a fist to the gut.

“See, I caught you sneaking around that little clinic a while back,” Kenny drawled. “Never pegged you for the type to get attached to a woman. Especially a taller one, heh. Must be awkward for a short runt like you.” He cackled at his own barb. “But it’s real, isn’t it? You got a taste for that fancy doctor. Real pretty lady, from what I’ve seen, and quite the fighter. She knifed one of my people, if you can believe that.”

Levi’s chest tightened, fury coiling in his gut. So Kenny was behind the disappearance. He swore under his breath. “You bastard,” he muttered, voice barely audible as he tried to steel himself.

Kenny continued, savoring every word. “Y’know, I taught you better than to form attachments. You do, and you end up in situations like this.” He held up the lock of hair again. “Her and that brat of hers… well, they won’t last long if you don’t make things real easy for me. Hand over Eren Jaeger. Hand over that brat Historia Reiss. And you and the rest of your Scout buddies can turn yourselves in. Otherwise, I’ll be shipping Dr. Iverson and her son out in little pieces.”

Levi’s blood roared in his ears. He had expected blackmail from the government, from the Military Police. But never had he anticipated that Kenny would find Penelope—and Preston too—and use them as leverage. A wave of guilt washed over him. This was exactly what he’d tried to prevent all those years ago, and now it was coming to pass in the worst possible way.

Kenny let out a long sigh. “Levi, if you’re listening, I know you got a heart in there somewhere. Doesn’t matter how much you pretend otherwise. You can come out and talk like a civilized man. Or… we can do this the hard way.”

There was a moment of silence. The bar’s patrons cowered in corners, too terrified to move. The bartender had ducked behind the counter as well, trembling. Levi carefully exchanged a glance with him, nodding at an old shotgun near the man’s knee. The bartender’s eyes flicked to it, then he pushed it toward Levi with shaking hands.

Kenny’s footsteps thudded, drawing closer to Levi’s hiding spot. “Alright then,” he said slowly, “looks like you need a little coaxing.”

Levi flung the shotgun upside down, firing from beneath the counter. Kenny had been expecting an attack, but not quite from that angle. The gun’s muzzle flashed, smoke billowing up. Kenny quickly grabbed a chair to dodge but the force of the bullet blasted into the chair, sending him reeling backward. He was slammed outside, toppling on the ground and spattering the concrete with his blood. 

One of his squad members lunged forward to return fire, but Levi tossed a chair outside.  The man’s eyes went wide as he was suddenly impaled by a grappling hook and blood darkened his shirt as Levi then used his body as a human shield from the other squad members’ bullets.

Bullets peppered the night, striking the window frame and sending shards of broken glass onto the street. Levi hit the ground in a crouch, adrenaline singing in his veins. The city was in uproar, with gunfire and shouts coming from multiple directions.

He swiftly replaced his ODM blades. The cables hissed, taut and ready. Launching a hook at a nearby building, he flew upward, scanning the dark sky. Off in the distance, he spotted movement—a wagon, perhaps, and glimpses of Anti-Personnel squad silhouettes. Eren and Historia were in that direction. But Penelope and Preston? They could be anywhere, either stashed away in some cell or en route to who knew where. The thought of them alone in Kenny’s clutches threatened to unsettle his focus, but he forced himself to stay sharp.

Landing lightly on a rooftop, Levi spotted two more Anti-Personnel members flanking a side street. They raised their guns, but Levi zig-zagged in midair, letting off a well-timed thrust from his gear that sent him hurtling between them. Before they could reload, he crossed his blades through both of their chests, blood arcing across the moonlit sky. Their bodies tumbled onto the deserted pavement below.

Gasping for breath, Levi paused only for a moment, listening for the roar of more gunfire. His Special Operation Squad was somewhere close by, responding to the commotion. He heard a distant shout—Armin’s voice, raw with alarm. Then the thunder of more shots. In the next few seconds, Levi glimpsed Jean and Armin grappling onto a wagon, presumably the same one carrying Eren and Historia. Armin fired a shot, and Levi flinched, hoping it wasn’t wasted. Yet more Anti-Personnel soldiers emerged, forcing Levi’s squad to retreat under heavy fire.

Levi surged forward, hooking onto the wagon’s frame in a desperate attempt to help, but the hail of bullets and the sudden arrival of additional enemies forced him to swerve off course. Seeing the situation was untenable, Levi signaled for his squad to break away. There were too many of Kenny’s soldiers. He and Sasha grabbed Armin and Jean and scrambled off the wagon, each of them white-faced, while Mikasa covered their escape with ODM maneuvers and swift blade strikes. Unable to seize Eren and Historia, they had no choice but to concede the battle… for the moment.

Landing in a secluded courtyard, Levi regrouped with Mikasa, Armin, Jean, and Sasha, all of them breathing hard. Gunshots still resonated in the distance. They exchanged grim looks—Eren and Historia were gone, and Levi’s mind spun with the knowledge that Penelope and Preston had also been taken, used as bargaining chips in a twisted game orchestrated by Kenny.

Armin spoke first, voice trembling, “Captain, what do we do? They took Eren and Historia. That wagon—”

Jean swallowed, finishing the thought, “It’s already out of sight.”

Levi’s expression remained cold, but inside, he was anything but calm. “We regroup,” he ordered, scanning the dark rooftops. “We find out where they’re taking Eren and Historia.” His jaw clenched. “And we deal with Kenny… no matter what it takes.”

Sasha noticed the flicker in his eyes. “Captain Levi, are you… are you okay?” she ventured. She had never seen quite that kind of rage in him before.

His chest heaved, adrenaline still surging through his veins. That lock of Penelope’s red hair flashed in his mind’s eye, mocking him. She was in danger because of him. Preston, too. The idea of them hurt or dead under Kenny’s watch made him sick. He pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, forcing himself to steady.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d figure out a way, no matter how impossible it seemed. Eren and Historia were crucial to the Scouts, yes, but Penelope and Preston meant more to him than he’d ever admitted. Even if Penelope’s hatred burned strong, he couldn’t let her and their son die at the hands of that sadistic man.

But Levi said nothing of Penelope or Preston. The weight of that personal crisis bore down on him, threatening to shatter his composure. He would not reveal his vulnerability, not here, not now. He simply tightened his grip on the hilts of his blades. “I’m fine,” he lied flatly. “Let’s move.”

Without another word, he led them into the labyrinth of streets, determined to track down any lead on the whereabouts of Eren, Historia, and the family he had unwittingly placed in mortal peril. He could hear Kenny’s mocking voice echoing in his ears, see that lock of red hair, and it nearly drove him mad. But he swallowed the rage, forcing himself into the mindset of a soldier.

For now, they had a mission: rescue Eren and Historia from government forces. But in the back of Levi’s mind, a second mission burned just as brightly, perhaps even more so: saving Penelope and Preston from the cruel grip of the man who once taught him how to kill, and how to survive. One thing was certain—he would not rest until he set things right, even if it meant carving through every last adversary who stood in his way.

~

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[devine-fem]

i am BEGGING you to make that jondami ship guide. not because i need anything to make me ship them more than i already do but because they deserve to have their good moments highlighted

Jondami/Damijon shipping guide.

A collective guide to any cute moment between Jon and Damian in DC comics or motion pictures. Any moment that could make a reader like them more as a ship will be put all here in one Tumblr post.

• Superman (2016) Issues #10-#11

This is the first time they meet each other and they immediately knock heads. Jon’s lighter than life personality clashes with Damian’s cold personality and they don’t seem to get along but you can tell there’s something growing behind the eye rolling and tongue clicking… a friendship?

• Superman (2016) Issue #20, #21, #25, #26 (mentioned), and #43.

• Super Sons (2017)

This is the first of the Super Sons series, the series is really short but gold nonetheless. No Super Sons comic that I don’t like but this one is my favorite. They still are knocking heads and refuse to call each other partners but they grow and learn to be heroes together.

• Adventures of the Super Sons (2018)

They slowly start to get used to each other and this comic shows that Damian isn’t just straight up mean but is starting to somewhat ‘like’ Jon.

• Challenge of the Super Sons (2020)

The last main Super Sons comics. This one is fine but I love the others so much. These comics are essential to know Jon and Damian period, it’s the main comics of each others story and in a way they are important to each others development.

• Batman and Superman: Battle of the Super Sons (2022)

Now after all that reading treat yourself to a movie because Jon and Damian got their own movie. This is what started Jon and Damian for a lot of people and this is probably where a lot of you are from. This movie is great and fun. They made Damian wayyy nicer than in the comics and their friendship easier.

• DC Rebirth Holiday Special (2016)

Please find and read this. It’s so cute. I love it so much.

• Dark Nights: Metal issue #3 (2017 -2018)

They make a rock band in the beginning, its so cute.

• DCeased (2019)

• DCeased: The Unkillables (2020)

• DCeased: Hope at World’s End (2020)

• DCeased: Dead Planet (2020)

• DCeased: War of the Undead Gods (2022)

This is such a good series, and story in general please read it. DC peaked with this one and its so angsty. I don’t care what comphet was happening, Jon was there for Damian like no one else. I think Damian ends up with Cassie which is weird to me because Damian has never shown interest in anyone before but I excuse it since it’s not really gonna happen again since they were in a relationship just for the story to be more high stakes and sad. Jon and Damian’s relationship was at the forefront and for comic book readers DCeased made people see the potential in Jondami.

• DC’s Terror Through Time (2022)

This is so cute, please read this. It’s a halloween special and they switch uniforms <3!!

• DC Saved by the Belle Reve (2022)

They help a nonbinary person navigate school and it’s so damn cute.

• The age up incident.

(Disclaimer: You can pretend this never happens and I wouldn’t blame you for doing that.) A writer named Brain Micheal Bendis comes into the writers room for DC and ages up Jon in short. The story is that Superman goes missing (He travels to War World and gets stuck there) and Jor-El comes back to meet Jon and he takes him on a trip to explore space, then they get trapped in a wormhole, Jon gets stuck on Earth-3 and has to fight Ultraman. He’s stuck in a volcano for five or six years and becomes seventeen (we think) when he comes back. This was sad to me because it took away all the potential interactions for Jon and our ability to see him grow up, it was rushed and purposely so. Jon takes up the title of Superman somehow and starts to date some guy named “Jay Nakamura.”

• Superman: Son of Kal-El (2021) Issues: #1, #6, #14, and #15.

He does get a boyfriend here and I think it’s amazing the fact he simply gets a boyfriend but no one really likes his bf so… and the are real reasons why Jay as a character is problematic BUT if you just don't want to see him with someone else than every time you see a pink haired twink, quickly skip.

• Adventures of Superman: Jon Kent

• Super Sons (2017) Special

This is them reuniting after the age up and it shows how Damian reacts to it. I can’t actually find this and if anyone can please let me know where it is. I can only find bits and pieces of it scattered across the internet. All you need to know is that he doesn’t like the age up anymore than us since he says “I miss my friend.” which is really sad to me because the age up ultimately really hurts what people like about their dynamic as well as tarnish Jon’s character almost completely.

UPDATE: found it, it got attached to

• Dark Crisis (2022) till Issue #5

This is fine, after issue four Jon and Damian are not there anymore and if you read half the story just for jon and damian you might as well finish it.

• Green Lantern: Blackstars (2019) issue #2

They hug here. You’re welcome.

• Action Comics (2016) issue #1030

This is the best thing to come from the age up. This is so cute of them.

• Teen Titans (2016) Issue #43, #45, and #46

i didnt really like this, im not gonna lie but it has some damian and jon interaction worth noting with jon being protective over damian.

• Flash (2016) Issue #797

jon defending damian. this is such a cute moment for them. jon talks damian up and says how hes the strongest person he knows and how hes misunderstood.

• Legion of Super Heroes (2019) Issue #2 & #3

dont read this. its rlly bad but this is full of jon being the number one damian apologist, quality jondsmi moments over quantity. worth mentioning • Trinity Special: World’s Finest literally them raising a child together but their ages are a bit wonkey, i still dont personally know what age either of them are supposed to be there...

DC MEETS HANNA-BARBERA - Super Sons x Dynomutt

I’d say they aren’t exactly written right, well over all they are but their personalities are more relaxed and they care about each other a lot and will go out of their way to make sure the other is okay and protect them from danger, make them laugh etc, theres nothing wrong with this, its really cute but you can tell its not the typical jon and damian writers is all. I like it.

• Dark Crisis: The Dark Academy (2023)

• Wonder Woman (2016) Issue #800

- Fandom

Artist that draw Jon and Damian:

(I don’t know any of these accounts intimately so if they’re problematic in any way than I am sorry in advance)

Sheiya Vlad

Pechaghtlecha

Corinthianrm0

Hobiiiebrown

spider-jaysart

arunneronthird

Twitter

Hokke

Gozer

@_1209E

YouTube

Justice Lords Animation

Japanese Animation

Super Sons Meme Animation

- Fanfics

Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once

Those Who Wait by InsaneTrollLogic

moving in stereo by TheResurrectionist

Reasons to Not Fall in Love by nanami

Growing Pains

These are fics I read and liked, I don’t have much. I don’t read a lot of Jondami fan fiction so I insist that you recommend your own fanfiction in the comments. (Don’t hate me for the self promo)

- Music (A silly lil playlist I made for them)

END

[betweenthescarletmoon]

On Mage!Viktor / the Hexcore's Involvement on the Transformation of Jayce

Incoming loooong post to encompass my massive brainrot about jayce. you've been warned <3

This post, written by @xenorat, made me consider how the Hexcore was the main player behind the whole timelines thing. Of course it explains why the world is an exact replica of what our Jayce's future would become and why Mage!Viktor himself doesn't look like the Machine Herald we know.

The OP also explained how the stone Viktor gave (was it due to the Hexcore or Viktor himself?) could've led Jayce to feel this frenzied, feral rage that goes against his own nature. His natural reaction to violence is usually horror, becoming sick, and profound guilt when he's the cause of it.

However!! Because I'm insane, I've been thinking for months about a theory/headcanon on why Jayce is sometimes violent and sometimes he seems to return to himself, which can work directly with the one that xenorat introduced.

And that theory is:

Mage!Viktor fused alternate versions of Jayce because he knew Jayce couldn't possibly fulfill his promise on his own.

TL;DR: Jayce's transition from feral and violent to calm and compassionate is not clear, but Act II and the scene with him and Mel in Act III show how Jayce may not be in complete control of his actions. Instead, as his physical frame glitches and the visions plague him, or in less visually obvious moments, his demeanor changes and flickers, as if our Jayce is switching with another versions of him. I also shamelessly self-plug about my newly posted oneshot that's gonna be part of my sad bookstreet/jayce-centric series.

Needless to say, I never understood Jayce's act iii arc, especially because he went from this:

to this:

in the span of like, a few weeks at most??

Although the writing and pacing of Act 3 leaves much to be desired for Jayce, Act 2 gives us really exciting clues about what could've been the explanation to Jayce's predicament. Its vagueness is fascinating, because the fandom has such different interpretations to it. Is it PTSD? Is it the self-annihilating nature of the Anomaly? Is it the infection of the world that burrowed into his leg, or the one from the stone that's spreading in his arm? Is it a side effect of witnessing the Cosmic Horrors? Or is it because he's fighting himself? Or rather, alternate versions of himself? Seven, to be exact?

As we can see in the gif above, as well as in most of his conversation with Salo, there seem to be various other versions of Jayce that have just been merged.

It is important to note that, in the novel experience of living in one body, or because of the presence of the Anomaly, Jayce experiences these magnetic-like pulls, in which a part of him seems to either separate or pass through.

I'm sure you've noticed the rest of these instances, especially this one:

But this could also be why he looked like this after killing Salo:

And like this after almost killing the child in the Commune:

(credit to @cruelcomfort-deactivated2024120 on this post, sadly i couldnt find the gif so i uploaded it here)

In every instance, it looks like he wavers in differing levels from whatever violence he has, is, or could've committed. With Salo, the horror almost breaks through the rage, but it fails. With the kid, it's like he slowly snaps out of the haze of fury (visually, the strobing effect and vignette fade away, which tells us that his vision is literally clearing); and all that he is left with is just that same horror. But with Viktor, there is simply chaos. Screaming and weeping and a glimpse of one breaking the vow once again (because he looked at Viktor right before he could kill him. oh i am ill).

Who controlled the body to fulfill the vow, I don't know. I'm willing to believe the act of killing his partner was so traumatizing, it was like we were witnessing an Arcane-ified, violent version of a mind dissociating to the point of an identity split. Y'know, like DID, but not exactly.

I frankly think the writers are kinda cowards for not showing us more of this or giving us more hints as to what is actually afflicting him, unless the mystery IS the point. BUT!! There is one more scene in Act III, where Fortiche left us clues about the alternate Jayces (or at least one of them) one last time.

This scene:

Though Jayce is already triggered and distrustful of Mel from the beginning of this scene, it is here where his entire demeanor slowly changes into that agony and pure rage we've seen before. The vision causes him to jerk in pain and start to shake. His grip on the Mercury Hammer grows tighter. But the most interesting detail is the most surreptitious one: his head warps with one or both eyes, perhaps the gaze of another version of himself.

Interestingly, he does not go to harm Mel as I feared on my first watch. Instead, he pushed her away to shoot, almost as if on instinct. As I looked into this 19 sec clip with Mel, I realized that he was angry but stable right before the first vision. Then a sort of struggle began, as if he is genuinely trying to hold himself back, or to push through the visible pain the arcane is putting him through. But every time he is overwhelmed by this pain, or he is falling deeper into that unnatural, feral rage, we see those eyes.

For context:

(Look above the corner of the left brow and you'll find a subtle eye under his bangs. This happens when he sees his first vision in the scene.)

The eyes become more and more obvious as time goes on. Or interestingly, the longer he closes his eyes, the more we can see these other eyes.

(They look bitter and dark, but also exhausted. How long have they been at this? And why only one pair of eyes? Have the others found rest when they fulfilled their promise of killing Viktor? Honestly, we'll never know.)

But then, when the chromatic aberration (that red, green, purple, and blue distortion of reality to show the Arcane's influence on him) intensifies, we see how our Jayce's eyes and this other gaze seem to merge, exactly when Jayce is on the cusp of violence.

This last one is right when he pushes Mel to shoot at Viktor. It is like they almost become one to attack Viktor again.

We don't see any internal war in Jayce in like the rest of the episode, as well as the finale. Which sucks. It was so cool and it got resolved off-screen ig? Where is that much-needed transition between Jayce "my partner died in this room" Talis and this other Jayce "all i want is my partner back" Talis? Who is ours? Or, even more interesting: did they fuse completely? It would explain their stability surely. And this internal healing could also explain his sudden ability to extend compassion and love towards Viktor in a way he couldn't for Mel.

(And don't tell me it's because he didn't love Mel. My man NEEDED to have a scene that portrayed just how badly that apocalyptic isolation messed him up. If anything, his behavior with Mel is TEN TIMES more realistic than his behavior with Viktor in the astral realm. Maybe the astral realm is the key to his change? But still, Jayce is a man who loves at heart. He was pushed to unimaginable suffering and violence that would make even Silco balk, but you can tell he still cares about Mel and Viktor despite this.)

Anyway!!

If you're a bit crazy and obsessed with trauma like me, then perhaps you might be interested in reading the fic series I've got in the works! I decided to post the prologue to contribute to the small but growing Jayce-centric fics, and more importantly to explore this theory through writing.

[leafofkudzu]

Happy Lunar New Year, everyone! Though it's not quite a snake per se, the Great Jungle Wurm sends its regards from over in Caledon Forest! It feels like it's been forever since we've been to a sylvari area, so how about we go pay it a visit, and then hang out with the Soundless over on the Weeping Isle? That's right: the first Saturday of a new month fast approaches, which mean it's time for another art party hosted by my guild, [VS] Verdant Shield!

A concept carried over from Final Fantasy XIV, art parties are in-game get-togethers for artists of all kinds to hang out, chat, and create together! For GW2 parties there’s more of an emphasis on hanging out and gathering references during the party itself, and then in the days/weeks following to work on your creations at your own pace and then post to the shared art party tag. We’ve used the same one (#VSArtParty) since the very beginning so you can go allll the way back and explore what people have made! The most important thing to keep in mind though is this: the ‘goal’ of an art party isn’t to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Time and /squadjoin information is below the cut, but will also be posted again on the day of the party as squads go up!

Location Information:

The Weeping Isle is a nice and accessible open area, with lots of room for water activities too if anyone wants to bust out a skiff or two! Just head Southwest from Mabon Waypoint and you're there - no funny business needed! It may be in your best interest to turn down your NPC dialogue volume if you stay on land though...

Time & Squad Details:

As is customary, we’ll be having two parties - the first one on EU servers and the second on NA - with an hour break in between for those who may want to attend both!

The EU server party will begin at 9pm Central European Time (aka 3pm Eastern Standard Time or 4 hours before in-game reset). I’ll be hosting this one on my EU alt account, so please either /whisper or /squadjoin Aemryn of Noon for a taxi invite if you don’t end up on the right map!

The NA server party will begin 1 hour after the EU party’s official end, at 7pm Eastern Standard Time (aka 1am Central European Time or at in-game reset). I’ll be on my main account for this one and may switch ‘host’ characters a few times, but please /whisper or /squadjoin Brasyck for a taxi invite if you don’t see my customary white cat tag hanging around on your map!

Closing Words:

I do feel like I'm always apologizing for being late on these posts, but here I am doing it again: sorry for the delay! Expect me to reblog this a few times before the end of the week just to compensate for my weird posting time since this is also...uhhh.....1am for me as I post this? Whoops. Anyway!

Thank you so much to everyone who came out to the anniversary party last month, it was so much fun! Even with my procrastination I still hope to keep these monthly parties happening for as long as people are interested - after all, you guys are what make them special! Take care of yourselves, and I'll see you all this Saturday! ♥