#this is an incomprehensible loss for her friends and family

[deadpanwalking]

[therainscene]

Crazy together: Byler, Cthulhu, and cosmic horror

Cthulhu is a queer horror film from 2007 that I've always been fond of. I rewatched it recently and was struck by some of its similarities to Stranger Things: small town vibes, conformity themes, cosmic horror as queer allegory, a gay protagonist with a childhood best friend slash love interest named Mike...

The film has an ambiguously villainous ending for its main character, Russ Marsh, and it's an ending that suits this story pretty well, imo -- so given how much it reminds me of Will's story, I thought it would be interesting to compare the two.

[Content warning for rape and (bloody) attempted suicide, both depicted in the movie and mentioned below the cut.]

👆 [That's the entire movie available for free on YouTube, courtesy of its director. You don't need to watch it to understand this analysis tho. Spoilers ahead.]

Cthulhu is a (very) loose adaptation of The Shadow over Innsmouth, a cosmic horror story about an outsider who arrives in a small fishing town and unearths a cult that interbreeds with immortal sea-dwelling monsters. He ends up making the horrifying discovery that he's descended from the cult's founder and thus doomed to turn into a monster himself.

The film uses this premise to talk about queerness: As an openly gay man, Russ has always been an outsider and was never going to participate in his hometown's, uh, traditions. Unfortunately, his father is the cult's leader and his sister is infertile -- Russ must participate.

[Yes, that's Cara Buono. If you enjoyed her portrayal of Karen as a loving but deeply conformist family member who does a better job of supporting the status quo than supporting her loved one, but just wished her character was more one-dimensional -- then this is the movie for you!]

Russ doesn't actually know much about the cult at the start of the film -- he fled to the city in his teens and dismisses his father's proselytizing as "Joseph Smith frontier horseshit" -- so it isn't until he returns for his mother's funeral that he begins to unravel the truth.

It's a good metaphor for how it feels to look back on a bigoted or abusive upbringing and realize: wow, that was a lot more fucked up than I thought it was.

As you might expect from cosmic horror though, this isn't a healing or empowering process for Russ.

Rather, he just keeps running into brutal reminders of how powerless he is in the face of the town's overwhelming, ingrained homophobia: at one point he's raped to satisfy his father's need for an heir; at another he's falsely jailed for the rape and murder of a boy he was trying to rescue from the cult.

It's similar to the torture Will endures in S1 and S2: he's kidnapped and symbolically raped, reflecting Troy's coded "killed by some other queer" comment, then bullied for having the audacity to survive it. He even stands up to a literal eldritch monstrosity and is rewarded for his bravery with yet more loss of autonomy.

You might be wondering if these stories even count as cosmic horror. Cthulhu only ever vaguely hints at the existence of, well, Cthulhu, and Stranger Things (which deliberately tweaks its genre every season) reveals that the Mind Flayer was basically just some guy all along.

But I think it's a bit of a misconception that cosmic horror is about star-sized masses of eyeballs and tentacles that drive you insane with their inhuman incomprehensibility.

Really, cosmic horror is about powerlessness, inevitability, and comprehending all too well. To know that horrors exist beyond the everyday facade of human existence -- whether they take the form of unknowable monstrosities from the void or of violent bigotry in an otherwise pleasant town -- is to know that your existence is nothing more than a delicate soap bubble floating in a vast, uncaring universe made exclusively of sharp edges. Even if you return to the everyday world, you can never return to blissful ignorance.

And that’s what drives you insane.

Will has something of a knowledge motif following him around: He's a wizard named Will the Wise. He illuminates. He has True Sight. He's a super-spy. He's part of the hive mind. He was studied in the lab. He was violated at school and in a library. His neck prickles when Vecna is close. He knows what Vecna is thinking.

It's too much cursed knowledge for one little boy to bear.

But he doesn't have to bear it alone.

Will is lucky to have a bunch of loving friends and family, and their support does a lot to help him cope... but even his fiercest supporters, Joyce and Jonathan, tend to be absent for long swathes of time. There's only one character who can be consistently found by Will's side through the majority of every season, and that's the boy who promised to go crazy with him.

[Strictly speaking Mike wasn't by his side in S1... but he fought hard to bring him home the whole time they were apart. Tomayto tomahto.]

Russ has a Mike too. (Literally -- his name is Michael Shields lol.) His childhood best friend reconnects with him soon after he arrives back in town and pretty much immediately becomes his sole trusted confidant as Russ falls down the cultist rabbit hole.

A quick aside -- Russ's past with Mike is a glimpse into a possible future for Byler.

Russ and Will have both been saved by their Mikes from giving in to the despair of being treated so brutally by their towns: Russ's Mike caught him mid-suicide attempt when they were teenagers--

--and Will's Mike, of course, helped rescue him from the Upside Down and sat patiently with him the whole time he was possessed.

Unfortunately, both Mikes are also conformists who are unwilling to leave the safety of comphet. Russ ran away to a more liberal environment where he could exist in peace, but Mike stayed behind and married a woman. This could easily end up being Byler's fate too.

So while Russ and Will might be alive thanks to their Mikes, they now have to live the rest of their lives without the love of the boy who gave them the drive to face it in the first place.

And it isn't as though the boy doesn't want to love him back.

The jury is officially still out on Byler, but Russ's backstory is very much not about a sad gay boy having to get over his sad gay crush on his straight best friend -- it's about a pair of would-be lovers getting torn apart by a town that refuses to let them be themselves.

I want to emphasize that both of these pairings consist of a visibly gay guy and a straight-passing guy.

In both stories it's typically the visibly queer one who actually interacts with the horrors, while the straight-passing one tends to observe from a position of relative safety, either escaping before anything too nasty happens to him, or more often, simply learning about the horrors second-hand from the visible one.

(There's one key exception at the end of Cthulhu -- but we'll come back to that.)

This is such an important dynamic that it's even unsubtly foreshadowed in Byler's first scene together:

This informs the way the characters support each other. We've already seen the obvious the safe one acts as a mental tether for the endangered one so he doesn't go insane with despair dynamic, but there's a reversal too: the authentic one inspires the conformist to join him in what was never really insanity so much as a different way of looking at the world.

Russ doesn't have any designs on seducing Mike -- much like Will, all he expects is some support from his best friend -- but his dogged questioning of the town's status quo still leads directly to Mike breaking out of comphet and admitting to what he's always really wanted:

[Learn from your elders, Byers: this is the proper way to respond when your love interest says that home just isn't the same without you.]

But Cthulhu's protagonists are confident adults who know how to quickly resolve their romantic tension. Byler are frightened kids in a five-act coming-of-age story -- their version is a little messier.

Mike has always been inspired by Will, right from the very first episode -- he decided to risk looking for him in the woods because he figured that's what his brave and kind friend Will would do.

The first two seasons thus show us Byler's dynamic at its best: an endless feedback loop of Will's strength and insight inspires Mike and Mike's devotion supports Will. (Very cleric and paladin of them.) But they're still children at this point, and don't really notice the blossoming queerness in their relationship yet.

S3 adds puberty to the mix and oh boy do they notice the queerness now. Too scary no thank you cancel unsubscribe uninstall. Will's bravery falters. Mike devotes himself to the grim duty of having a girlfriend. The loop breaks under the pressure.

They fight about it in the same location that introduced us to their dynamic and call each other out on failing to hold up their respective ends of the bargain:

"Why aren't you there for me anymore?"

"Why are you refusing to face reality all of a sudden?"

Note that Will's knowledge motif makes a return here -- just before the fight, he dresses up in his Will the Wise costume in an effort to inspire Mike again. But the tone of the scene is silly and cringey -- as correct as Will is to point out that they don't need to abandon their childhood dynamic just because they're growing up, pretending that it isn't going to mature as they age is, um. Unsustainable.

Deep down, Will knows that he'll eventually have to address the terrifying truth that keeps tapping insistently at the back of his neck.

By S4, Mike is starting to come around -- he's still deep in comphet, but he at least recognizes that it's making him unhappy, so he reaches out to Will the Wise for advice. Unfortunately, Will learned the wrong lesson in S3, and all the advice he offers is designed to push Mike back into the arms of comphet.

By the end of the season, Will has even orchestrated a grand heterosexual love confession in the foolish hope that sacrificing his heart on the altar of heteronormativity might finally make the horrors go away. (How's that working out for you, Byers?)

And so we've arrived at that ambiguously villainous ending.

By the climax of Cthulhu, Russ has uncovered the awful truth: his mother was murdered by his father to lure him home, extract offspring from him, and trigger the apocalypse. It's already begun; there's no stopping it. Shambling horrors -- his ancestors -- emerge from the rising sea. Russ is expected to become the immortal leader of this sunken new world.

He and Mike make plans to flee town together, but Russ runs into his father. He's brought to the shore to admire his kingdom before being handed a weapon and commanded to make sacrifice to Cthulhu:

Russ glances between Mike and his father, assessing his options. Soon even the cities will be consumed; he can't Smalltown Boy his way out of this again.

He raises his weapon--

--cut to black, roll credits.

All too often, queer villainy is shown from a straight perspective, presenting queerness as inherently threatening. This is the type of villainy embodied by Vecna: he's a vengeful and predatory outcast who forces his version of reality on others (especially children) and refuses to compromise his dangerous nature.

Cthulhu shows us queer villainy from a queer perspective. Russ, like Will, is harmless: he's kind, has no interest in vengeance, and just wants to live his life in peace. What drives him to villainy is the temptation to throw queerness under the bus in the twisted belief that appeasing the majority is the key to escaping homophobia.

Of course, there is no escape. Sacrificing the man who trusted him to guide him gently into the reality of queerness just means he's succumbed to the madness and become a homophobe himself.

S4 concludes with Will in a similar position to Russ: teetering on the precipice of madness as he helplessly watches the world fall apart at the hands of the villain who would stop at nothing to force him to join his cause.

But where their situations differ is in what cause that villain represents.

Russ's antagonist is a straight homophobe, representing societal homophobia -- far too powerful a force for one man and his lover to have any hope of defeating. But Will's antagonist is that offensively queer-coded-for-straights villain, representing internalized homophobia -- all along, the prickling at the back of Will's neck has been his own instincts warning him of what happens when you allow bigots and abusers to have a say in how you define yourself.

True love can certainly defeat that.

Unlike Russ, Will hasn't reached the end of his story yet--

--and unlike his older namesake, Mike isn't kneeling on the sacrificial altar, but standing by the side of the boy he promised to go crazy with, ready to face the horrors of Hawkins -- together.

[@bylerween2023 day 4 🐙]

[woodchipp]

You have a lot of thoughts about the topic, so what ideas/suggestions/other input (if any) do you have for an Omori rewrite?

Ideas? I have way too many. I've outlined some of them here and here (in a very disorganized manner), but I've thought up a lot of new ideas since then. I recommend to check the linked posts first, but I'll try my best to recap some of the ideas from the posts I've linked in this post, if you don't mind!

Long and most likely incoherent rant incoming.

1) Make Mari actually kill herself, of course. I really did like the game's initial premise of this young kid and his friends trying to deal with the loss of a beloved relative/friend before The Twist, so I'd cut The Twist and try to keep the story straightforward in that aspect. Perhaps that could've made Sunny a bit more sympathetic since he'd get to be the victim of circumstance the game evidently wanted people to see him as and allowed the story to explore Mari as a full character instead of reducing her to the typical saint for everyone to revere and cry over.

One could try to make the suicide itself the plot twist, though. Maybe the sight of Mari's hanged corpse could've been so incomprehensible to the 12-year-old Sunny he'd just pretend to have never seen it in the first place (his mind would block it out) and instead convince himself that Mari happily left for college with Hero. Maybe Sunny mentioning her to Hero or asking him about her after he comes back would make the latter pause and then change the subject of the conversation in a neat little bit of foreshadowing. Besides, a good chunk of the original game's foreshadowing for its twist already pointed to suicide, so why reinvent the wheel?

I insist on this idea in particular because it's tragic, it's horrifying and, most importantly, it's realistic - it's everything the game strove to be. Realism-induced horror is one of my favorite "genres" of horror, and I think OMORI could've had a great shot at exploiting said trope to its benefit were it not for The Twist.

The biggest problem with that sort of plotline, I think, would be Basil. His importance to the game's story relies on The Twist; without it, he has no reason to be there. I woudn't want to cut him altogether, but I can't think of an organic way to insert him into the "Mari kills herself" plotline either, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2) Make Sunny and Mari's home life horrible lmao. I've already talked about it here and in the first linked post, but I'll reiterate myself - you don't grow up into a strict perfectionist or with self-esteem as low as Sunny's (the game very clearly implies Sunny had self-esteem issues even before he killed Mari) by partying at your besties' birthdays and hugging plushies together. Problems like that tend to be caused by a dysfunctional home.

Yes, the "abusive parents" trope is rather overused nowadays, but I'd still consider it somewhat of an improvement over the complete lack of information about Sunny's family pre-Mari's death. I also think it'd have been quite interesting if the game explored how the toxic home environment the two were born into would inform their personalities. That way, the recital argument would be less "why is Mari so mean 2 me 💔" and more the result of their issues boiling over.

Tying into this idea is the next one.

3) Make Black Space a recollection of Sunny's backstory a la Time's Arrow. Long story short, Time's Arrow is an episode of a show called Bojack Horseman that stands out to me due to the way the featured character's trauma is subtly conveyed without sacrificing story - the flashbacks are mostly coherent, but filtered through the character's emotional perception of the events at the time. The best example of this is a formative memory from the character's childhood, in which she sees her father callously throw her beloved toy into the fireplace before warning her to keep her emotions in check and telling her not to cry. The fear she felt at the moment infuenced her memory of the event, represented by the aforementioned fireplace becoming a wall of hellfire.

I think such an approach would've been a great fit for Black Space as well. Not only would this allow the player to get some real insight into what made Sunny the way he is, his memories being filtered through his emotions would allow the game to characterize him (e.g. the sash bars on his house's windows could be made to look like the bars of a prison cell to imply he felt trapped in his own home). This could even allow the game to show us the big argument itself!

4) Make Kel, Aubrey, Basil and Hero characters instead of props for Sunny to interact with. The story should've examined their issues too. Hero and Kel have some workings of interesting conflicts (e.g. Hero's outburst and how it affected Kel, Hero struggling with relating to the friend group only as their "dad", Kel's status as the unfavorite sibling), as do Basil (his parents and the abandonment issues stemming from them, his general relationship with his grandma) and Aubrey (see the second linked post), but none of that is elaborated on by the game in favor of focusing on Sunny and his (w)angst. Delving into their issues would've been way more interesting for me than listening to them go "man I miss my wife Tails Mari ;A;" over and over again, at least.

5) Make the game's timespan longer. 5 or 10 days instead of 3 would allow the game more room to get through the other characters' arcs before shifting focus to Sunny for the finale, I think.

6) Make Faraway Town a bit larger. Make it wackier, too. There's four streets, a church, a park and a supermarket. There's nothing to do in this town at all, which isn't good since it's where the player spends a good chunk of the plot in. The NPCs and their sidequests are equally cookie-cutter - buy a grandma her medication, tutor some kids, play hide-and-seek with the twins...

It'd have been nice if the main story's subject matter was juxtaposed with the sidequests being as batshit insane as realistically possible. "Realistic" doesn't have to mean "boring", IMO. Real life can be fun!

Tying into this idea is the next one.

7) Lock the good ending behind 100% completion of all the Faraway sidequests, probably...? It's one of my weirder ideas, and I don't know whether it'd be feasible since I'm not a game developer lol. But I think the game could've tried to make some sort of point about how Sunny managed to make headway in working on his issues only because he made the effort to socialize with people who weren't his comfortable circle of friends.

I don't know what to do with Headspace. Really. The general concept of a saccharine dream world created to avoid reality is nice on paper, but it's a big tumor on the plot - it contributes next to nothing to the player's understanding of Sunny or his friends and becomes entirely irrelevant halfway through the game. I guess I'd make it shorter?

[omniblades-and-stars]

Left to Ashes

I wrote this about one of my OCs, a krogan woman who suffered greatly on Tuchanka somewhere in the nebulous and murky time-line before the establishment of the all- female clans on Tuchanka.

I have put the entire thing under the cut because the first part jumps right into dealing with grief over infertility and stillbirth, which may be quite triggering for some, though it is not graphic and is brief.

Anyways, I hope you'll still read it, and enjoy the origin of how my wonderful krogan found her name and her pyjak.

Stillborn.

It was a word known by every krogan female. The poisoned blade that killed by what it left behind. The krogan people died away slowly, generation by generation they lost more of themselves to directionless rage, stoked by the losses borne on the shoulders of their women, and to the virus let loose upon them because in their might and anger they were a threat. Genocide by a thousand cuts, by the millions of stillbirths suffered by her mother, her sisters, her aunts and so on for generations and spanning the entire planet, the one thing that united all krogan.

That day, Jurgal Kuresh joined her sisters in carrying that burden. At first, she looked over her clutch, still in the incubation shelter, completely numb. The shaman droned on, words that she didn't hear. She had tended them so carefully, using the knowledge gained by her foremothers. How could she have poured so much of herself out, and not even one of her children born?

The intact shells mocked her with cruelty she could not bear. Her shame laid bare before her, witnessed by the guiding hand of the shaman. Heat rose from her chest, until it was flames licking behind her eyes, and smoke pouring from her nostrils. It burned away the paralysis, and her lungs became the bellows that fed her fury. The words that fell from her mouth were tangled, incomprehensible, her eyes blinded by tears.

She stormed away, leaving a path of destruction in her wake. She was not the first, and she would not be the last to take out her grief on the crumbling architecture of their home.

It would not be her last time to take out her grief in that way.

___

“I refuse. I will not suffer this insult, and I will not suffer the indignity of the genophage any longer,” Kuresh crossed her arms over her chest and stood defiant before the leader of Clan Doash. The rich crimson hue of her robes was dulled by the dust from the long journey to Doash territory. Her new home. The home she was given to, as though she were a prized piece of machinery, or an expensive weapon. And not a breathing krogan with family and friends, or a will of her own.

The home she was escorted to because they knew she would not go willingly. It was only by virtue of her “honor guard” being made up of her brothers and cousins that she had not turned to violence. A fight she certainly could not win, but had it been anyone else, she would have taken more than one of them with her to the Void, like an honorable krogan should.

This was not honor. This was disgraceful politicking. And she was nothing more than a pawn.

Doash Baxx stood before her, risen from his great stone throne, he almost faded into the background. His skin and plating were a mottled brown, covered in scars from head to toe. He was enormous, and he was old. A great scar cut deep from the crest of his head down through his right eye, all the way down to his neck. A canyon rent into flesh. His lips curled back in a sneer. “You will do as you’re told, woman.”

Kuresh shook her head back and forth, the ancient coins sewn to her ritual head covering clinked softly together. “I will not. And I defy you to make me, Baxx. You may have the rest of your clan cowed to your whims, but you are old and I am not afraid of you.” He certainly could kill her. Even at his age, he was a hulking brute. But she would not go quietly if he pushed her.

Her own death meant nothing to her.

“Jurgal Henk assured me that you would cooperate,” he growled. Baxx knew that should he harm this female, it would likely end with his own clan turning on him. It would provide a perfect opportunity for one of his sons to have just cause for taking his life, instead of turning to base back-stabbing.

“Then Henk lied to you. Take it up with him. I am no fool, I know I cannot go back. I’ll work, but I am not your broodmare,” Kuresh said and she brooked no argument. She turned her back on the towering clan leader and walked out of the sandy arena that served as his throne room. “I’ll be working on your fucking tomkahs if you need me,” she shouted without turning back, leaving the clan leader boiling with rage and disrespected in front of his own clan.

Removed from her family, and with more than a century of failed clutches had left her bitter and full of white hot anger, and she did not care what they thought of her.

Kuresh removed her ceremonial vestments and set them aflame. Never again, she promised herself.

___

Clan Doash was weak. It’s men destroyed and scattered, and it’s women taken for prizes by Clan Jotarok.

Kuresh fought, she spilled krogan blood using guns, blades, her own hands and teeth, but it was not enough to keep her from capture. In her rage she failed to see the krogan coming up from behind her. They grabbed her arms and incapacitated her with some piece of technology she had never seen before. An electric shock tore through her body before she was rendered unconscious.

When she awoke, she was separated from the clan sisters who had been taken with her. Held prisoner in the shell of some building she could not even have guessed at the original purpose of, it was so destroyed. Kuresh rose to her full height, flames licking at her eyes once more, and she bellowed at the guard standing watch over her. He returned her shout with a rumbling laugh.

He did not live to learn to regret mocking her. Kuresh threw her arm out in front of her, violet light fell from her hand and like a wave, it pelted the ground with energy, knocking her guard to the floor. She rushed him, pulled his shotgun free from his hands, and painted the dust with his blood.

A fresco left as evidence of her wrath.

Kuresh made her way out of the compound, and met little resistance along the way. Most of the clan was celebrating noisily and drunkenly further inside. What resistance she met, she returned with the kind of violence and determination that could only be wrought by a woman at the point of her breaking.

With nothing but the clothes on her back and the gun in her hands, Kuresh headed into the wilderness.

She would find her way to one of the larger clans where cargo and transport ships flew supplies in, and aspiring mercenaries out.

Kuresh was leaving.

___

Days passed as she journeyed through the rocky desert, heading east. She survived on the nutrients and fluids in her hump, and one day she stumbled upon a varren den. She ate well that night.

The light from Aralakh was brutal and unrelenting, but she persisted.

As she walked, alone, surrounded by great swathes of empty desert, her rage faded back to grief. Her own family traded her away all of those years ago. The clan they gave her to didn’t care about her if she was not extending her suffering by trying and failing to increase their numbers.

If this was what it was going to be like for her for the rest of her very long life, she was not going to put up with it. Because fuck that.

Tuchanka was not her home, it was her prison. Let it burn itself away.

Days turned to weeks as she slowly made her way on foot. Mirages played out before her eyes, shimmering and wavering images of an oasis. Another day, the mirage took the form of a crumbling temple, with sandstone statues standing watch over its great mouth. Scant greenery climbed its walls.

She continued her march, expecting the ruin to disappear as she moved towards it, but it did not. Kuresh approached it carefully, and walked beneath the enormous entryway, still standing strong despite the ravages of time and nuclear war. The interior gave way to an open air temple standing around a solitary pond, small, but supporting rarely seen greenery and a small colony of pyjaks.

After removing her boots, Kuresh sat down with her feet sunk into the silt beneath the water. She draped her arms over her knees. With her defenses down, and within those sacred and forgotten walls, Kuresh allowed herself to weep. Not the raging, heated rush of tears, but the kind of quiet sobs that rocked her whole body. She mourned for everything she’d ever lost, she mourned the people and the planet that had failed her at every turn.

“Let it all burn. I’ll leave it to fall away to ashes,” she muttered quietly to herself once the tears faded to bitter heat burning at the edges of her eyes. There was nothing mighty or worthy left of her home in those tired, bloodshot eyes.

Exhaustion settled heavy and deep in her bones. She didn’t bother fighting off the sleep that fell upon her. Kuresh dropped heavily to the side, toes still dipped into the warm water, and she dreamed of nothing. When she awoke, a small pyjak, a runt if ever she saw one, was curled up next to her head, its tail flicked out occasionally and brushed under her nose.

She sneezed. The little pyjak squeaked and darted away in a panic, and watched her cautiously from a shelter of pond reeds.

“Damn pyjak,” she grumbled and then sat up to put her boots back on and continue her trek. By her estimation, she would arrive at Clan Urdnot’s borders in the next few days. Assuming she didn’t get eaten by a thresher maw on her way there. From there, she could catch a ride off world, and start somewhere fresh.

As she left the shelter, the curious little pyjak followed after her. “I don’t have food,” she warned the pest and continued moving.

After an hour of walking, she looked behind her to see the animal in the distance, following her still. The blighted creature left its colony to follow after her.

If anyone had asked her why, on that day, she stopped walking and allowed it to catch up with her and climb onto her hump, she wouldn’t have had an answer she could articulate.

Trobror, she called it.

Cinder.

___

The anger that drove Kuresh from Tuchanka faded into the background as time passed by. She learned how to laugh again. She thrived and lived, and struggled only for the things that she believed in. In those struggles, she found her pride and the things that truly made her a krogan.

Well, that and exploding and setting things on fire. She enjoyed doing those long-standing krogan pastimes a great deal.

Many, many years, and thankfully not as many Cinders later, humanity exploded onto the scene. At first, they were just the boogeymen daring to put up a fight against the might of the turian military, but with the end of the First Contact War, suddenly they were everywhere.

It seemed like a lot of the galactic community was put-off, or downright threatened, by humanity. But Kuresh liked them. They were brassy, tenacious, they decided what they wanted to do, and they just did it. You could put four humans in a room and they’d have twenty conflicting opinions about what kind of breakfast cereal to get. They were often contrarian for contrary’s sake, and she was too.

And the food! The day she discovered that humans competed to breed the spiciest peppers a person could eat without suffering a fatal attack from it, and then they would make sauces from them, Kuresh was sold on humanity. They were like tiny, soft, borderline suicidal krogan.

One day, she was in some shitty bar on Omega. She was ripped on bootleg ryncol joking with some haggard human mercenary when he asked her what her name was.

“Kuresh,” she slurred heavily.

“Crash? That cause you’re so big you knock everything over?”

It took a moment for the confusion to pass, but to her drunken senses, that sounded about right. “You know what? Fuck it, yeah, that’s my name and that’s why!” she shouted uproariously and threw her arms out wide, knocking another patron from her stool, and a glass of liquor off the bar.

Like it was destiny.

Or just a coincidence given meaning by an outrageous number of bottles of ryncol ingested over the night.

Then she learned of a human idiom for failure, “Crash and burn.” It seemed fitting, like a shotgun that was exactly the right size for her hands.

The woman, with a pyjak now named Burn on her shoulder and a shotgun with KRANTT scratched into its side held in her hands, took the scars of failure, her own failures, the failures of her home and people, and carried them with pride and good humor.

She would continue to thrive, whether or not the rest of her people were going to thrive with her.

[your-old-sins-tournament]

OC NAVAL WARFARE

/ -- Romantic

*-- Unlabelled/Other

+ -- QPR

& -- Familial

Watercolor Graveyards (Watercolor Dreams and Graveyard)

Watercolor Dreams (Oliver Fernsby & Princess Guinevere)

These two are SO cool. Because Guinevere (or Gwennie, as she prefers to be called) wouldn't exist without Oliver. Literally the entire world Gwennie exists in comes from a fever dream that he has while he's sick. And like, everyone in that world is representative of somebody Oliver either knows or wishes he knew in the real world. Gwennie is his sister, Stella, who died of a heart complication when she was only two, so Oliver never really got to properly meet her. Gwennie is his next best shot, created to be what he wishes she was like, or how he imagines her. And eventually they just get really close. They grow with one another. They need each other in a way that is so humanly incomprehensible. Oliver is the best he will ever be around Gwennie, and Gwennie physically cannot exist without Oliver. In a way, as soon as Oliver woke up and left his dream behind, he died along with Gwen. Because it was just a dream. He left everything she unlocked in him behind and it just ruined him and his sense of purpose. And he has no idea what happened to her, because he left her right as she became queen of her kingdom. He doesn't know if she's even still alive in that world in his head or not. And no matter how hard he's tried, he's never been able to go back. He's gotten faint glimpses, but he hasn't been able to return and it devastates him, because he just got a sister back only to lose her to his own mind. Anyways they're SO interesting and also they're really similar but they don't KNOW they're similar so they fight a lot until they have a heart-to-heart and realize they aren't so different. Also their mutual bond is so important. They won't do anything without the other, and would literally die for each other. They have like the strongest kind of familial love siblings can have for one another despite not actually being related and it's SO fucking important. I love them.

Graveyard (Olly Graves * Susan Yards)

They are homestuck ocs just for some context.

1. They are best friends and they are so gay

2. Sun and Moon kinda archetype (susan is the sun, olly the moon)

3. Opposite aspects if yknow what that is (susan is the maid of light, olly is the seer of void)

4. Matching friendship bracelets

5. their last names combined is Gravesyards. i mentiones this to my dad and he said "are they gonna get married. theyll make their last names Yards-Graves"

6. Ollys land-planet thing is an ocean and susans is a desert

7. They and their friends do.cryptid hunts and binge watch action superhero movies together 8. nice color scheme!!!!! olly's signature color is teal and susan's are orange and pink!!!

9. susan kinda has the lesbian flag colors

10. i just love them an unfathomable amount

Golden Fleece (Yang Xiao Long/Eirian)

Two bisexual queens who have faced loss and grief and still fights for the world with a smile, understanding how damaging ignoring your grief and putting others above yourself is, and have the complimentary colour pallettes <3

[supersapphical]

stevie/charlie! 🍳

STEVIE AND CHARLIE MY LOVES. I know everyone hates on apocalypse world (with good reason) but I absolutely adore Stevie and apocalypseverse Charlie.

Here is some Stevie/Charlie Christmas-y angst and fluff.

Read on AO3 or under the cut.

Stevie grips the steering wheel tight, carefully guiding her pickup down the slick, winding road as small snowflakes fall fast from the dark sky. The trees and roadsides are piled high with last week’s snowfall. The road has been cleared but it is treacherously dark—black ice could be hidden anywhere along her path home. The radio is fading in and out but she can catch bits of Joni Mitchell’s plaintive voice in between the bursts of static and silence.

It’s coming on Christmas They’re cutting down trees They’re putting up reindeer

All of her own Christmas traditions seem so far away. She’s one of the very few people on this planet that can say her own past is, literally, a world away. Everything she once knew is in a world that doesn’t even exist anymore. Her heart yearns for some of her old winter traditions, like making hot cocoa with her sisters on the coldest days of the year, picking out the best and brightest green pine tree to bring in for Christmas with her dad or helping her mother cook by reading out the instructions from a carefully handwritten recipe card that had been passed down by her great grandmother.

Attempting to bring some ghost of those old traditions into her new life seems like a mockery of her old one. The ground Stevie walks on doesn’t even have the same dirt as the one from before. She no longer breathes the same air that all her family and friends breathed when they were alive. She wonders if it would be easier if she had graves to visit. She didn’t even have graves to visit back on her world, most of the people she knew having been taken out by a citywide angel blast. There had been no bodies left to bury and now, a whole universe away, she can’t ever return to the space where the atoms of her loved ones were scattered.

I made my baby cry He tried hard to help me

When they met, Charlie was hard like her though some of that hardness has softened in the last few months. Charlie has brightened in ways Stevie never predicted, she smiles more now and laughs more now. Stevie thinks she might be starting to see the type of person she was before everything else. It’s still a quiet joy, dampened by incomprehensible tragedy. She wonders how much she herself has been changed by Charlie and if Charlie notices it. She feels herself smiling more than she did when she first came here. She’s started humming to herself again, a habit she picked up from her mother and then dropped quickly when she was living in a world where making noise could get her killed.

I wish I had a river so long I would teach my feet to fly

Life now is good, perhaps as good as she could ever hope to get. Still, Stevie wonders. She wonders how long this can even last. It’s not just that they are both leading dangerous lives, hunting as frequently as they do. She wonders how long before one of them just breaks down from the weight of their losses. Survival kept them both going for this long but now she feels as if the consequences of survival are looming over them. Every day she chooses to push this thought aside. Every day, she sees Charlie in the morning and decides to enjoy the life they have built together instead of grieving over the ones that were ripped away from them. But one question frequently invades her brain, how can they cope with such an unfathomable amount of loss?

The radio cuts out completely about a half a mile from their cabin but as she pulls into the drive, the last refrain echoes in her head.

I wish I had a river I could skate away on

Stepping into their cozy little cabin in the woods, Stevie’s senses are assaulted. The warmth, the smells, the sounds are all in stark contrast to the dark, quiet winter outside. It’s all the feelings of home, but she’s still a little slow to fully enter, standing for a moment in the mudroom. The winters here are so harsh, there is a chill at her back from the closed door behind her, the frigid winter slipping in even through their locked door. Ahead of her is the hallway that leads to the light and warmth of the kitchen where she knows Charlie is because she can hear her singing off key along with Christmas carols blasting from the CD player. Stevie takes one more moment to feel the cold and the silence on the other side of the door before she starts peeling off layers of winter outwear until she's down to her fuzzy wool socks, cozy sweater and leggings.

Stevie quietly enters the kitchen and sees Charlie bent over a tray of cookies, her brow furrowed intensely as she carefully applies bright green frosting to a tree shaped cookie.

“Hey, I’m home.”

Charlie looks up from her work and her face breaks out into the biggest grin Stevie has ever seen on her before. She tosses the piping bag filled with frosting aside and throws her arms around Stevie, immediately covering all of Stevie’s clothes in the flour that coats her apron.

“It looks like a disaster zone in here,” Stevie laughs. There’s pans and mixing bowls and various utensils over every surface, flour all over the floor and bright green and red frosting all over her girlfriend.

Time for us to make some new traditions together Charlie had said and Stevie hadn’t known at the time just how chaotic that would be, with all the rooms in their small cabin now filled with Charlie’s attempts at making her own decorations.

“Got everything you asked for,” Stevie dumps a few bags on the table. “Even though I can’t imagine what more you could possibly need. Haven’t you put our poor kitchen through enough?”

“You clearly know nothing about baking,” Charlie says haughtily. “All the pros practice the same recipe over and over again so they can perfect it.”

“Plus, you burned the last batch,” Stevie smiles. “And this one, too, smells like.”

Charlie curses and runs to the oven, rushing to pull a tray of cookies out. Stevie laughs as she watches her poke at the cookies and mutter about feeding them all to a rancor if they don’t behave.

How do they cope with the fact that the entire world they’re from is now gone? Maybe it will never be easy to wake up each day and decide to be happy but sitting here in this well worn kitchen that they have both filled with the things they love and watching her grief stricken girlfriend come to life over the little silver ball sprinkles she found at the corner store in town, she thinks the weight of their looming grief feels more bearable. As long as she has Charlie’s smile and the smell of burning cookies and a house covered in things made with more passion than skill, waking up tomorrow and choosing to be happy doesn’t seem as hopeless as it was before.

[thec0untry]

I am Sitting under the darkening summer sky drinking irish breakfast tea smoking winston menthol 100s, until we move into our apartment i will probably continue smoking constantly because it makes me feel like i have a forcefield around me, like a foothold in the constantly shifting anonymity of the house i’m living in right now. I think this tumblr page is serving a similar purpose. It is july 7, 8:55pm, i can hear some fireworks echoing far off. I got off of work at 9am, woke at 7pm or so. Bowl of oatmeal and instant espresso. I haven't been able to listen to much other than Advance Base for the past week, owen's lyrics instill in me the greatest gratitude for the incomprehensible size of life, the multitudes of lives happening all simultaneously and the even greater multitudes of shapes those same lives will take on in the future. The shapes my own life will take on, the shape it is now. All of these stories of melancholic loss and change, families and friends, relationships that don't have any easy label. These albums give me so much gratitude for my life and so much sweet, quiet excitement for the future, the places i will live, the people i will meet, the loves that will come and go (or maybe arrive and stay forever). I'm three weeks into my new job, it is becoming monotonous, this isn't a bad thing right now. I think i will value this time greatly in the future, and that makes me value it much more right now. Most worknights i dream of the future and of the past. I think about my old girlfriend, what she is to me now, try to get a three-dimensional view of her place in me. I think of my friends who i love and will probably love more in the future once i am more settled. I think of travel, of going to chicago alone later this year. Maybe i'll fly out for an advance base show if it lines up, i've been wanting to see him since i was 17. After the show, or on the other nights i'm there, i'll go to a bar that i'll find on google maps, one in the university area, i remember walking around there when i was 15 or so, i'll bring a book, i could see something by barbara comyns or muriel spark hitting nicely there, or maybe something more serious. Maybe then i'll read iris murdoch. It is silly to say but i dream of meeting someone there, a new chicago person, somehow we'll hit it off and talk for a long time and be moved by each other. Maybe they're there with friends and we'll all be drunk and laughing and i will lose the handle on reality in the way that only sudden and intuitive social connections can feel. Isn't everyone in a city that is not their own always quietly dreaming of things like that? The last time i was in chicago was with my old girlfriend. It was her birthday, her phone broke and it ended up being sort of messed up but if i remember correctly we had a very nice time all the same. Chicago is my land of dreams, going there to visit family when i was young, going there when i was falling in love with my old girlfriend in the summer of 2017. I was still roaringly medicated then so i can't remember all of it, but there are splashes of walking by the university, and seeing family on some strange farm in michigan. I remember the gray skies and greenery. I remember feeling life expand. There are some other things. i remember thinking of her. Off chicago. At work i dream of the places i will live in the future, of the apartment or house i'll be moving into in a few months (it may come sooner than expected). I dream of setting it up, making it feel serene and exactly perfect for me right now. I will probably be making more money by then, i have these images in my head of different perfume bottles, from tea rose to varying comme des garcons, surrounding the base of an antique lamp (i keep seeing beautiful, inexpensive lamps at antique stores) on a small round dark wooden table. I see a bedframe low to the ground with a mattress in white bedclothes. The way it will all smell, the mess of incense and perfume and whatever candles i'm into by then.

I dream of the cities and towns i will live in. Will i return to new york? The question is always there, but i have very few ideas of what it would look like. The thought can make me feel powerless, the way new york did during my month there this year. But i know to trust the expansiveness and unpredictability of experience. Perhaps if i begin bartending, then such places will open themselves to me, both in expense and in feeling. I will be older. I could go on forever. There is always so much to dream of. I do not know why i have been writing so much on this site lately. But when i begin to feel lost and deflated, it feels very good to come here and write it all out. The screen door just slammed, someone is home. I will go have another cigarette and maybe more tea.

[wellimacraftyoldcoot]

Woman drowns her 7-year-old daughter because the girl wouldn't leave her alone

usnn.com

HENDERSONVILLE, TN – In a harrowing incident, a Tennessee mother faces first-degree murder charges after she allegedly drowned her 7-year-old daughter. Officials assert that the mother claimed the act was spurred by her desire for solitude following a challenging day.

Late one evening, Hendersonville Police Department officers rushed to Drakes Creek near Sanders Ferry Road, approximately 15 miles from Nashville, responding to reports of a child’s drowning. Emergency services promptly transported the young Piper Elliot to the hospital, but despite resuscitation attempts, she was declared deceased around 11:45 p.m.

Investigators focused on the mother, Brandi Nicole Elliot, 33, piecing together the events that led to the tragedy. Elliot, after being taken to the police station and apprised of her legal rights, provided a detailed confession of the incident to police detectives.

The affidavit indicates Elliot communicated a need to be alone after an upsetting day. When her daughter, Piper, continued to seek her company and would not remain alone in their apartment, Elliot took Piper to the creek. According to the document, Elliot stated she submerged Piper in the water to quiet her, ultimately leading to the young girl’s death. Attempting CPR afterward, Elliot soon realized the gravity of her actions, but it was tragically too late.

The community is struggling to reconcile this violent act with the woman they knew. Family friend DeAnna Sartain, who worked with Elliot for years, expressed disbelief, emphasizing that this behavior was entirely out of character for the Brandi they were familiar with. Sartain noted that earlier on the day of the incident, Elliot and Piper had visited Piper’s father in the hospital, but nothing indicated that something was amiss.

The incident has shocked the Hendersonville community, leaving residents and those who knew the family grappling with the incomprehensible loss. Elliot is currently detained at the Sumner County Jail without the possibility of bond and is awaiting a court appearance for a bond hearing.

This tragic event underscores the struggles individuals may face and the devastating impact these challenges can have on families and communities. Investigations continue as those close to the Elliot family and local residents mourn the loss of young Piper.

[atlanticcanada]

Moncton homicide victim's friends, family deal with 'extreme grief'

Olivia Bulmer still can't believe her close friend Max Boudreau is gone.

Boudreau's body was discovered in a wooded area in Irishtown, N.B., north of Moncton on Tuesday.

The 24-year-old had been reported missing on Nov. 17.

Bulmer remembers her friend as a funny person with a kind soul who could light up a room.

"We would have endless sleepovers and watch movies," said Bulmer as she choked back tears. "Go for hikes, go to the gym together. I really lost my best friend and I hope we can get some peace. The family is hurting, everyone's hurting and this is just not fair."

Forty-two-year-old Justin Barrow of Moncton has been charged with first-degree murder.

Barrow made a brief court appearance Wednesday in front of roughly 20 of Boudreau's family and friends.

Boudreau's cousin, Louise Vautour Goguen, released a statement Thursday on behalf of the family.

She said Boudreau's mother is devastated.

"The family is trying to cope with extreme grief and incomprehension surrounding the details of his death. The investigation is still ongoing and the family has no other information to share at this point," read the statement.

"Although we all have so many unanswered questions, we kindly ask for discretion regarding shared information that could compromise the ongoing investigation."

What is known is that Boudreau left Angie's, a Dieppe bar, in a taxi around 3 a.m. on Nov. 15.

The connection between the suspect and the victim is still not known.

The cab company that picked up Boudreau says the man arrested did not work for them.

Moncton's River of Pride, an LGBTQ support group, offered its deepest sympathies in a Facebook post.

Its president Jeremie Duguay was also a friend and a past roommate.

"He always found a way to live life to its fullest. I'm honestly a bit jealous for the way he managed to do that,” said Duguay. “It was impressive honestly. He was just very proud of everything he did. He was just so confident. it was very uplifting to have him in my life.”

Downtown whiskey bar Antlers Lounge will hold an evening to honour Boudreau this Saturday and all proceeds and donations will go to his family.

Co-owner Eric Doucet said it will be an emotional night for all.

"The LGBTQ community itself here in Moncton is a small community. It's a strong community, but it can be fragile,” said Doucet.

“We've seen what just happened in Colorado, it happens all the time. So as a community here in Moncton, it's very important we support our friends, our brothers, our sisters.”

The family statement from Vautour Goguen said they are deeply touched by all the love and support they are receiving.

"It serves as a testament to how much Max was loved and appreciated by all who knew him."

The statement concluded by saying:

"At this time, we kindly ask for privacy as we grieve the loss of Max. His kind, fun-loving spirit will be deeply missed along with his beautiful smile."

A spokesperson for the New Brunswick RCMP told CTV News the investigation continues, but the cause of death and any other details were not revealed.

Barrow is scheduled to be back in court on Dec. 12.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3lmVIvJ

[high-supernatural]

The Beach

Kai Parker x Female Reader

Request: Sex on a beach, kind of rough yet soft.

Word Count: 2496

Warnings: Smuuuuut, lots of smut, dom!kai, mild hands tied

The MF friend group invited Kai and his best friend to stay at one of their family’s beach houses for the weekend as what they called a peace offering. They weren’t very friendly or welcoming of Kai from the moment they all met him, no matter how hard he tried to make things right with them. Kai’s best friend guilted them into feeling bad about rejecting him as he was trying to improve himself, so they decided to invite them both to their beach weekend to test how true it was and make peace from it.

All of the MF friends had their rooms picked out since they were kids. Kai, his best girl friend, and the Salvatore brothers were the only new ones without signature rooms to sleep in, so they all bunked in the old kids’ room that still had two sets of bunk beds.

“Great, agree to a beach weekend, get to bunk with a sociopath and his sidekick, and sleep in beds made for 12-year old’s… ‘oh sure, Damon, come to the beach it’ll be fuuuun,’ can’t see how this could go terribly wrong,” Damon ranted on about how unhappy he was with the arrangements.

Kai announced that he’d be taking the top bunk above his best friend, but that didn’t really matter because they both knew they’d end up in the same bed anyways. They did everything together, and that included both sleeping and causing immense sexual tension they were both too nervous to address with each other.

She tried to sleep in the bottom bunk alone but couldn’t fall asleep. Kai peaked his head from above to see if she was awake and found her with her eyes closed, so he poked her until she opened them.

“What,” she asked with scrunched brows.

“Come sleep with me,” he whined and dangled his hand over the railing with a strand of her hair attached.

She didn’t have to be begged, she immediately got out of her bed and climbed onto his, laying her head on his chest and played with his rings until they both fell asleep.

They both woke the next morning to a loud, dramatic exclamation of “oh, gross” coming from Damon seeing them together.

She rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes with one hand, “oh don’t be jealous just because you can’t get any, Damon,” she teased resulting in a fake gag in response.

Everyone got ready for the beach before breakfast.

She stood in a large two-sink bathroom after putting on a red bikini top and black shorts and started brushing her hair.

Kai walked in wearing shorts and a t-shirt, “that’s what you’re wearing to the beach?” she asked.

“Have you seen any ocean documentary on National Geographic? I’m not going in that water,” Kai joked and stood behind her, grabbing the brush from her hand to brush her hair for her.

When he was done, he placed the brush on the counter and went to attempt a ponytail again even though he has never succeeded at making a good one.

“You’d be better off putting sunscreen on me than trying to do my hair again,” she said as a joke even though she was serious.

Kai rolled his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t do hair anyways, so he reached onto the counter for the sunscreen and put some in his hands to rub on her back and arms as they fought with each other while she simultaneously tried to put her hair up.

Kai closed the sunscreen bottle, forgetting about her front side and her legs and started to walk out, “you missed a spot,” she spoke before he could turn around.

“You can get the rest, can’t you? You’re capable.”

She rolled her eyes and handed him the sunscreen bottle again. He started rubbing lotion on her stomach from behind, looking at her in the mirror until his movements got slower and he seemed lost in thought.

“What’r you thinking about?” she asked.

“Oh, you know…” the attention came back to Kai’s eyes as he looked up to meet her gaze in the mirror, “just about all the mixed signals you give me,” he trailed one of his hands up her torso to her neck and wrapped his hand around it, leaning in to whisper in her ear while not taking his eyes off hers.

“About how one day we’re besties and the next you want my hands all over you…”

She didn’t pull away. They both knew they wanted this, but neither of them would say anything until now.

Kai moved his other hand to the waist of her shorts as he did a once over with his eyes at her in the mirror before returning his gaze back to hers, “so which one is it today,” he asked in a dark tone.

She was at a loss for words. They’ve been intimate together in ways such as seeing each other naked after one got out of the shower or making out because they were bored, but they’ve never been this straightforwardly intimate.

After her silence, Kai trailed the hand he placed on her waistband to cup one of her breasts and tightened the grip around her throat, “is this what you want?” he asked harshly, “you want my hands all over you?”

Her breath hitched as she tried to breath to say something. Kai moved his hand from her breast and slipped it under her shorts, removing the hand around her throat to replace the one that left her chest.

He massaged her breasts roughly, nibbling on her neck as he rubbed soft circles over her clothed core, resulting in soft moans disguised as breaths.

“Just say the words,” Kai said before he shifted his attention to the other side of her neck, “do you like my hands all over you?”

“Yes,” she whispered softly before Kai removed himself from touching her, “that’s too bad,” he whispered and kissed her on the cheek before leaving and announcing from the other room, “we’re heading down in 10, hurry and get ready.”

She stood dumbfounded and clumsily finished getting ready.

When they got to the beach, they all set up their own tents to lay in. Her and Kai were the only ones not wanting to get in the water, so they laid in the sand while the others walked around elsewhere.

She fell asleep laying on her towel in the sand with her shorts unbuttoned and sunhat over her face. Kai couldn’t help but stare at her almost the whole time thinking about how it felt to touch her that morning.

When he couldn’t refrain from it anymore, he took the hat from off her face and woke her up.

“You forgot to put sunscreen on your legs,” he excused.

“Ok, so?” she barked.

He toyed with the string on the front of her bikini top that was keeping it from falling off, “so… you should get in the tent and let me put sunscreen on your legs…” he said nervously.

“Oh, ‘put sunscreen on me’, huh?” she air quoted him and pretended to be annoyed before crawling into the tent anyways.

Kai got in behind her and zipped it up behind him.

She sat with her legs crisscrossed and opened a bag of candy while she looked at her phone. The only thing he could think about was untying the top that was barely hiding anything and how gorgeous her hair looked in her messy ponytail, he always loved her hair.

He sat on his knees in front of her and rubbed both his hands up either side of the inner parts of her thighs.

She looked up from her phone and put a piece of candy in her mouth, “I didn’t hear you get any sunscreen, kid,” she teased.

Kai moved her phone and the bag behind him and brought his face close to hers, moving his hands farther up her thighs, “we both know I didn’t wake you up because of sunscreen.”

He closed the gap between their lips and pulled the string that held her bikini together in the front, exposing her breasts before he pulled away from her face to watch himself toy with one of her nipples.

“Who wants their hands all over who now, huh?” she teased again.

Kai grabbed her bikini top and both of her wrists and began to tie them together, “not me,” he smirked.

He moved his hand under her knee to uncross her legs so he could sit between them as he laid her down and she reached to place her tied up hands on his waistband, “too bad I can still touch you then,” she continued to tease.

He put one hand back to her throat as the other met underneath her shorts again, “I can make that change,” he spoke harsh again.

“Yeah, how you gonna do that?” she breathed out.

He snuck two fingers underneath the fabric she was wearing to feel her bare core, “by making you feel so many things you forget you even have hands,” he responded ominously before removing his hands to pull all the fabric she was wearing off of her legs and pushed them open.

He held one of her knees firmly to his side so she was fully open to him and began to tease her by rubbing her core so soft that she could barely notice, but she felt every graze.

He inserted two fingers into her and wasted no time curling and pumping them in and out, “I’ve always wondered how good you taste,” he bit at her thigh and started pumping at an incomprehensible speed.

She choked on her own moans because of how sudden the pace was and tried to stifle them by covering her mouth with her hands to which she was met with Kai pulling her arms back down to lay in front of her torso, “I want to see your face dying with discomfort because you know you can’t make a sound…” he watched her face scrunch as she stifled her moans, “I want to watch your chest bounce while your arms push them together…”

He continued pumping at this speed as he leaned to bite at her neck, “but don’t worry, if you can’t be quiet, I’ll just put something in your mouth to make you quiet,” he whispered.

He trailed his mouth down to her core, leaving bites and hickeys on the way before roughly sucking and flicking her soft spot with his tongue. He noticed when she tried to cover her mouth again and quickly grabbed her ties to hold her arms in place.

She pulled at his hair and moved her hips around in attempt to be quiet. He noticed when she was getting close and made sure to hold her wrists tighter as she threw her head back and was barely able to quiet her orgasm.

Kai kept sucking, causing her to close her thighs around him as he kept pushing and holding them back open until she was about to reach her second orgasm. Right before she was on the edge, he pulled away and replaced his mouth with his thumb to watch her face as he wrapped his hand around her throat again.

“I want to watch your face struggle to breath and quiet yourself at the same time,” he teased and watched intently as her face turned red from the lack of circulation. Before she almost passed out, she reached the edge and Kai removed his hand from her throat at the exact moment, causing her to moan loudly as she felt an intense sudden release all over her body and gasped for air.

She didn’t care this time, she needed to let it out.

Kai grabbed a bunch of her hair and pulled her to sit on her knees by it, “you better hope nobody heard that,” he unbuttoned his shorts, “you’ll never hear the end of what a sleaze you are,” he whispered and sat on his knees to kiss her by pulling her face up by her hair and grabbed her hands to touch his stomach.

She trailed her hands down his stomach until they almost reached his member before he forcefully pulled her face from his and pushed her mouth down to put her lips around it.

He sat back on his knees with one arm propping him up and ordered for her to put her ass in the air while she sucked.

Kai didn’t care if anyone heard him, he moaned like they were the only ones on the beach and grabbed a fistful of her hair again to move her head at a speed he liked.

“Oh my god--- how do you feel so good,” he groaned and twitched, “I bet your pussy feels a whole lot better,” he whispered and continued to fuck her face.

He started to twitch more, and his movements got more shaky, “I want to fill you up from both ends like the slut you are,” he spoke roughly before finishing in her mouth and pulling her head up to look at her sweaty, teary face.

He pulled himself up to move behind her where she had her ass up like he told her to do and spread her legs farther apart, pushing her back down to arch it before inserting himself into her.

He pulled her up by the back of her arms so his chest was against her back and snaked a hand around to her throat, using the other to pull her hair back onto his shoulder as he made slow but deep thrusts, hitting her spot each time as she struggled to breath.

“If I would have known you’d feel this good I would have taken advantage of this a long time ago,” he whispered in her ear, “I don’t know how you’re so perfect in every way… your pussy is the best thing I’ve ever felt…”

He moved his hand from her throat to rub circles around her clit as he thrusted faster.

She couldn’t contain her moans, so he shoved the bottoms of her bikini into her mouth and moved her face to lay at the bottom of the tent with her ass up as she unsuccessfully stifled moans of both pain and pleasure until they both finished again.

He finished with deep thrusts until they both collapsed and laid next to each other trying to catch their breath as she set herself free.

Kai sat up just enough to turn her face to his, “I don’t want anyone else to be able to have that except me,” he spoke.

“Well, you’re just full of wants today, aren’t you?” she breathed.

“Promise me,” he whined.

“What am I, your girlfriend or something?”

“Please,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, “I promise.”

[charliedawn]

What is their reaction when they find out that they may have grown attached to you ?

You know how Jason can be very insecure and self-conscious ? Well. Prepare for a whole new level. He will check himself in the mirror when you're not looking, and if he doesn't like what he is seeing ? He will smash the mirror and go in a corner to sit and move back and forth, to give himself some reassurance. He still remembers what his mother used to tell him.

" Persons are a nuisance, Jason. You don't need them to survive."

But then, why does he feel like he needs you ? He feels conflicted as to what to believe.

Super jumpy ! He will jump almost every time you touch him or lose his grip of the things he is holding, often ending broken and splattered on the floor. He would be as clumsy as Jason and would want you to spend more time with him. However, he would also be scared of you breaking his heart.

" I..I c..care.."

Like many of your patients, Brahms has trouble finding his words. At first, many thought he was mute, like Jason or Michael. This is why hearing him speak to you always means it is important.

" I..I care.."

He wants to say many things, how he cherishes every moment you spend together, how you make his heart race everytime you are near him or how he wants you to be by his side forever..But, he can't. He can just hope that what he feels can be expressed through eye contact. You may not understand what he wants to say, but you still try to understand. You put your hand on his and reply with a compassionate smile.

" I care about you too. You are a very good friend, Brahms.."

Did you just indirectly friendzone him ? Possibly..You walk out and Brahms sighs before sitting on his bed while hugging his doll to comfort him.

" You turn me on."

He will be absolutely frank about it. He will just step up and tell you in front of anyone. He doesn't give a damn if the others hear him as well. Also, creep alert, will watch you sleep. He will sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night and just look at you sleep. He wants to touch you so bad, but he knows that that would wake you up. And he doesn't want that. He will just admire you from afar, even pretend that you may like him back. He would just want to get close to you, to look at you and wonder what you may be dreaming about..hoping that you are dreaming of him.

" Oh my sweet..You look so perfect when you sleep.."

Now..You know how Five is very serious about his relationship with Dolores ? Well, you better be prepared by lots of imaginary fights between the two of them, and even a break-up ! *gasp* Drama. He would be in a very bad mood and would scream and attack everyone that approaches his personal space. He would also smash everything in his room. Like, everything. So much that the other nurses would be too scared of him and ask you to handle it.

" Hey. Are you okay, Five ? Did something happen ?"

He would snort and look up at you with visible frustration.

" You happened. Dolores and I broke up. Not that she was one to share her feelings anyway."

You frown in incomprehension before asking with a small airy laugh.

" I don't understand, what does that have to do with me ?"

Your question seems to trigger a nerve and he suddenly stands up to look at you dead in the eye with anger and, somehow, pain..

" Everything ! You're too nice ! Too forgiving ! Too perfect ! You wiped our past as if it was nothing, goddammit ! We're serial killers, Y/N! We're monsters and you treat us as if we were..as if we were.."

He doesn't get to finish that sentence as he seems on the verge of tears. He jumps on his bed to sit and hide his face behind his knees. You seem to finally understand the problem and sigh before sitting next to Five.

" It's okay to have feelings, Five. You can't hide them forever. I'm sorry if it upsets you but, I don't think you're all that bad. Sure, you kill and even eat people. But, I've seen you change. You are a lot less violent and a few more months ? And I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time."

He looks up at you again with a sort of desperation, very uncharacteristic of Five, before finally asking in a tearful voice.

" What if..What if I don't want to go back ? Out there, I'm just a freak. But, here ? I got.."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but you guess what he is going to say and smile understandingly.

"..Friends ?"

He doesn't answer, he only suddenly hugs you tightly and hides his face in your skirt. You hesitate before slowly petting the top of his head affectionately. The gesture seems to relax him, but he quickly straightens up and wipes his tears away. He then stands up and apologizes.

" I..I'm sorry, it was highly inappropriate of me. I'll..I'll let you work."

Before you could say anything, he runs out of the room and leaves you confused and worried.

Lots of uncontrollable laughter. More than usual. He is very nervous when you're around him and sometimes cries while laughing, showing that he is deeply ashamed of his condition. He is very bipolar and will sometimes act very casually around you, only to break into tears when you leave the room. He will stare at you and turn his gaze away as soon as you would notice.

" Well, would you look at that ? Sir Sh*tty the clown seems to have a little crush on the nice nurse.."

Pennywise would tease him about it while Penny cackles behind him. Arthur glares at them both before either ignoring them or leaving the room.

No. Nope. Certainly not. He will try to hide from you. He knows very well what he is feeling, and also what happens to the people he feels this way towards. He just managed to get rid of his curse, he is not about to risk getting on a murder rampage again ! Every time he would see you, he would pretend to be busy or hide. One time, he even jumped out the window to get away from you. It is very odd since Michael is normally the most chill and calm out of all the patients. But one look at you ? And he becomes a panicking mess. He has to get away. He doesn't want to hurt you like he hurt everyone else close to him, like he hurt his family..

" Me ? Having feelings ? Ah !"

One word: denial. He doesn't want to hear about things like feelings. He saved you ? Bah. It was only because he was bored. He will deny everything, but still follow you and pop up out of nowhere to see what you're doing. He enjoys talking to you, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

" Pennywise..You're staring again."

Penny would gently warn him as his big brother would pretend to not have done such a thing.

" Can't an old clown appreciate to look at nice things sometimes ?"

Penny frowns, not understanding his big brother's words until Freddy intervenes by popping next to him with a huge grin.

" Let it go, kid. Your big bro is just too much of a chicken to go talk to her.."

Pennywise growls in annoyance at Freddy before raising his middle finger at him.

" F*ck off Freddy ! At least I don't watch her sleep like a total perv !"

That would result in a fight that you would have to break. Again..

" Pennywise..I think I'm sick.."

Pennywise would admit some day to Pennywise that would sigh in annoyance.

" Stop saying stupid sh*t. You know very well that we can't be sick."

But, upon seeing the devastated face of his brother, Pennywise sighs loudly before turning towards him to focus his whole attention on him.

" Fiiinnneee...Tell me."

Penny's mood seems to lit up as his brother seems to be willing to listen to him.

" OK, so it concerns the nurse, Y/N. Everytime they are near me, I feel things in my stomach, like a million kids were kicking me in there..Everytime they touch me, I feel as if a part of me in my chest is about to burst and I feel warm, very very warm. And then, I feel very very bad when they talk to anyone else..It's horrible. I want it to stop..Should I eat them ?"

Pennywise stays silent for a while before saying with an unusual straight face.

" Penny.."

He starts, but Penny starts panicking as he sees the sour look on his brother's face.

" Oh ! It's bad, isn't it ?! What is it ?! How long do I have ?!"

Pennywise rolls his eyes dramatically at his brother's exaggerated reaction before cutting him off in his worried questions.

" Shut up, you idiot ! You're not dying. You're just feeling.."things" for them."

Penny stops talking and frowns in confusion, his eyes diverging in deep concentration, as if trying to understand Pennywise's words.

" Things ?! What things ?!"

He finally asks with his eyes wide open in obvious loss and Pennywise face-palms himself before answering with a loud sigh.

" You're falling in love, you dumb f*ck !"

At the word, Penny's face freezes and his smile goes downwards as he realizes that his older brother is right.

" Oh, sh*t.."

He curses and Pennywise frowns, as Penny hates curses.

" Language ! I'm the only one allowed to use curses, remember ?!"

Penny nods before asking in a worried tone.

" How do I get rid of it ? I don't like it.."

Pennywise can't help but feel sorry for Penny, as he knew better than anyone that there was no turning back..

" I'm sorry kid. But if it's really love ? You can't..like I can't.."

Penny's eyes widen at his brother's confession.

" You..You..love her too ?"

Pennywise seems to realize what he just said and groans before walking away. He didn't want anyone to know, even though Penny is his brother. Penny understands the wish of his brother to be left alone and starts walking out in the garden to think over what his older brother said..Could it be ? Could he really be falling in love ?

Bonus : The deal

The Horde is blindfolded and dragged to another room where a man and a woman are waiting for them. At first look, he can already tell that this man is one of the unworthy. The unbroken. The weak..His interest is cut short and he then turns towards the woman sitting next to him. Now, this one was interesting..Her eyes betrayed a much deeper complexity and she had a scar running from her forehead to her left cheek that proved she was worthy.

" You..You are broken. Rejoice.."

The woman smiles, but before she could start talking, her partner does it for her.

" Mister Wendell Crumb, we have a mission for you."

But Kevin only grits his teeths at the man.

" You are impure..I want to kill you.."

The man arks an eyebrow, but ignores his threat.

" Fine. Whatever. But first, I want you to be my spy. We didn't get you out of this prison for nothing, mister Wendell Crumb. We want you to be our little spy in the facility. We want you to find out how a certain miss L/N managed to control the patients outside of the facility. Do that, and you'll be as free as a bird..Do we have a deal ?"

He frowns, they wanted him to spy on a nurse ? She must be quite special for them to go to such lengths, to use him as a spy..Yes, quite the unique prey. The Beast was already impatient and Kevin licks his lips before nodding.

" Fine, but on one condition. When you're finished with her, I get to eat her heart.."

The request seems to take the man aback, but it is the lady that Kevin is looking at. She smiles coldly before nodding in agreement.

" Deal."

Kevin finally smiles widely and can't help the excited giggle that gets out from deep within him. Then, the dark and low voice of the beast makes itself heard as the smile grows almost ferocious as he announces. .

" Let the hunt begin.."

[starshipsofstarlord]

A Stark Contrast | Bucky Barnes

Summary; living in the shadow of Tony, your brother, always was the way, and you accepted it. That was until he expected you to sign the accords, that was one thing that you couldn’t do.

Warnings; Angst, mentions of death, mentions of being controlled, funeral, mourning, anger

The form, bound in a weighty book laid on the table, making the room fill with utmost tension. Tony was hellbent on signing the thing, and handing away any freedom that all of you had.

No matter how long you had supported him, this was not one subject that you could agree with him on. Whilst you understood his perspective, it would only end up with you in a hamster wheel, running around and following the orders of executives.

They wanted less destruction. To put boundaries around their country’s heroes, and limit them to the lengths they could go to in order to save lives.

That was also wrong, the entire ordeal had you bent backwards with a conflict of interests. On one hand, it would be ordinary to sign for such a cause, whether you trusted their backgrounds or not, simply because your elder sibling had.

There was nobody that you trusted more than Tony, he had half raised you after your parents were killed, you felt indebted to him. But being an avenger, on a team where your personal opinion had been valued, it opened your eyes to a whole range of possibilities.

Whilst you were loyal to Tony, you had also became in tune with your own gut. It grumbled at the prospect of giving in to a contract, which decided what you were permitted to do. It was like a child’s parent permission slip, but on a much grander scale.

“People died!” He reminded the lot of you again, which inclined you to look down. There was blood on all of your hands, and he was making it as red as it could possibly be seen. “At least y/n agrees with me.” He reprimanded Steve, whom was still far on the fence regarding the entire ordeal.

Once he said that, all eyes had shifted towards you. Nat had already basically given in to your brother’s convictions, and Steve suspected that you would do the same. You were always one step behind Tony, you were far too loyal to your sibling for your own good.

“I have yet to make up my mind.” You spoke, standing, no longer wishing to be in the room where there was far too much tension. How you wished Banner and Thor were here, they would make an equal divide. The God of Thunder would not scribble his signature upon the paper, you thought to yourself, if he knew their reasons and affects.

However, your words were taken as an assumption that you would join your sibling in providing a peaceful surrender. It is what he and the public would assume of you, and to be truthful, you were tired of sticking to the stereotypes that were made of you.

“I’m surprised that you came.” Steve spoke, as you opened the boot of your car, and revealed the shield that he was so often adorned with, as well as Sam’s wings. He, like most others, had suspected that you would join your brother in his guilt ridden cause, however, thinking for yourself gave you a sense of freedom.

“Don’t be so quick to prevail into what everyone else thinks of me.” You smirked at the captain, your eyes drifting over to the other super soldier, whom had temporarily been imprisoned by the government.

But he had escaped, and if luck was not often a Stark trait, Tony would have died. You had watched from the cameras, but you could boil no bad blood in between the pair of you, Barnes was not in his right mind. He was controlled, and put into a incomprehensible mode of himself. That was, unless, he had managed to kill Tony.

Then you would have changed your own deciding mind, and stuck to what the eldest Stark believed in. “I won’t, ever again.” Sam smiled, picking up redwing from the composed pile, and kissing the machine.

“Bucky.” You reiterated his name, the one that he had chosen to correct the unknown and deceiving man on. The nod you earnt was brief, but it gave you a sense of hope that whirled in your middle. 

It was clear that he was an attractive man, and alike his righteous friend, he was frozen through time to be in this current moment. As Sam and Steve began to get their things together, you walked over to the historical stranger, a smile upon your face. “I’m y/n Stark, I don’t believe we have had the fortune of meeting before.”

“You sure do speak like a Stark.” He softly spoke, a matching smile on his brawn face. “And you seem to have other things in common, like that necklace.” At his words, you looked down at it, a hint of anguish within your gaze.

“It belonged to my mother.” It was nice to reminisce about her for a moment, you knew that she would have made her own decisions too. In some retrospect, you were following in her footsteps.

A feeling grew in the back of Bucky’s throat, but he said nothing. If he were to spill, or reveal his dark secret, it would mean nothing more than the loss of a powerful asset, they could not afford that right now.

“Do you ever think about what would have happened if you got to return home?” It had been a stressful day, fighting your friends, and your last living family member. Bucky turned at your words, you had saved him from being killed, he felt indebted.

“Probably do what every other soldier did; find a woman to marry and have kids. But that’s far out of the picture in this modern age.” Steve was flying the aircraft as you and Bucky spoke in the back. It gave the two of you a moment alone, and you were truly knowing as though you knew the soldier.

He was a good man, misinterpreted by the deeds that he was controlled to do. No one chose to have pity on Barnes, they instead viewed him as a country danger, and wanted to lock him up in a cage, which was how he had come so far in the first place.

“I wouldn’t say that.” For a moment, you looked into his deep blue eyes, feeling as though he were freezing you with them. He didn’t want to look away, but you were inclined to, for you could feel the contrasts of hot and cold heat working its way up your neck, and onto your face. “There’s definitely a woman that would want all that and more with you.”

If things were simpler, you would be convinced that you could share such an intimate bond with him, but alas, everything had to be complicated. And if things could work out, they surely couldn’t last.

“We’re here.” Steve informed the both of you, as he slid out of his front seat, and you prepared to finish this for once and for all.

“How could you?!��� You couldn’t defend him as Tony blasted him away, Bucky had played you, and done so well. He and Steve knew of the blood on his hands, and yet they hadn’t thought once to inform you of the one true treachery regrading you.

Bucky had killed your mother, from the intake of information alone, you felt sick. Physically sick. But you choked it down, and as Steve unsurely came towards you, you ran at him, angered by his lies.

From the start, the patriot of America, someone you had considered a friend had deceived you. You had helped him, stood with him, fought your friends for him, and not to mention Tony, and he had known all along.

“Y/n-”

“Save your apologies Rogers.” You stared him down, as he had Bucky held up by one arm, seeing as Barnes had lost one of his own again. “And you, you’re right, there’s no perfect picture, you’re nothing but a monster.”

“Listen.” Steve commanded, but you couldn’t. He was no longer considered your captain, he was a sick liar who had helped to break you. This was the last time that you made your own decisions. Tony was always right.

“You don’t deserve that shield, my father made that. It’s government property-” swiftly he dropped said item, an exhausted and tiresome expression upon Steve’s helmet wearing face.

As soon as they trudged by, you instantly went to Tony, checking his wounds. “You were right brother, I should have listened to you.”

“Your dad loved cheeseburgers too.” You laughed lightly to Morgan, blinking back the tears. It was Tony’s funeral, there were so many people here, even Fury, but there was someone else, who was walking towards you. “Why don’t you go and ask Happy, I have some business that I have to tend to quickly.”

“Okay auntie y/n.” She ran off. She was so innocent, she didn’t deserve to be going to her father’s funeral at five years old, it was truly cruel. But that was just the way the world worked, and Tony was a hero.

“Hi.” Bucky spoke, adorned in all black, same as you. It had been a long time since you had seen him, not since he was being carried away by Steve. You hadn’t fought in Wakanda, instead you had ended up on Titan with your brother, and you would have surely died without him.

“Hey Barnes.” You greeted him with a forced smile, but nevertheless allowed him to step closer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He said, the guilt still burning behind his eyes. It seemed that his time in Wakanda had changed him, for the better.

“Which one?” You quipped back, instantaneously. 

“All of them.” He gulped, he was going to give you one truth before you found out after. It was his attempt at redemption, and a sorrowful one at that. “Steve’s returning the stones later.”

“I know.” You responded, the captain had already informed you about that part of his plan.

“And he’s not coming back.”

“Anthony Howard and Steven Nathan Barnes, the two of you better get back here this instant!” Your voice hollered through the house, as well as the duo’s endless giggles.

The front door opened, no other than Bucky walking through. He was quick to recognise the flash of motherly anger upon your face, and quickly dropped his serene smile.

“What have they done?” Bucky asked, watching as you crossed your arms in an unimpressed manner.

“Why don’t you ask your sons?” Your husband sighed, but despite that, he was a happy man. He had returned from a war, and found a lovely wife, of which he had two troublesome boys with. For the first time in a long time, y/n Stark and Bucky Barnes were happy.

[tunemyart]

so the whole Alex going into witness protection thing... there’s an implication I caught on a rewatch of “Loss” that I hadn’t before, which is that she and the marshals probably didn’t expect it to become the years-long thing it did - because they expected Velez to be extradited, which went out the window when Zapata was found dead and therefore unable to testify.

Which means the original plan was probably - Alex stays “dead” for a few days, maybe a few weeks at most, has a miraculous resurrection and joyous reunion with her friends and family, there’s minimal trauma that they can all put behind them, everybody gets on with their lives. And Alex is so stubborn - I doubt she was seriously considering the alternative, because it simply wouldn’t have been an option she was willing to accept. She could have been convinced to be quiet and do as she was told with that future as her reward.

Instead it all came crashing down on her that last day. Zapata dead. No extradition for Velez. A bleak lifetime of looking over her shoulder, fearing for her life, unable to return to her home or her life or her name stretching out in front of her. A sudden, incomprehensible whirlwind of urgent, efficient movement around her with her at the epicenter, and mere hours to kick and scream and insist on that final meeting with Olivia and Elliot.

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Сhapter 6

Life had never been particularly kind to Hange Zoe. Tragedies and heartbreaks followed her ever since the day she was born – kicking, screaming and nearly killing her own mother. Her mother never recovered from that blow, her health diminishing while vexation with her own child grew.

That day gave a start to Hange’s life – and to the endless stream of misfortunes she had to face.

Those misfortunes frequented, the amount of bad days increased as Hange was becoming older. But even as a child, driven solely by curiosity and fascination for the world, uncaring of the workings and the rules of the society around her, she had her fair share of frustrations. They usually appeared when her father was around – luckily, due to the nature of his work, he very rarely was. Hange didn’t know her father well, he was always absent, always somewhere else, doing something incredibly important, shaping the future of their country. He was many things - a leader, soldier, hero. But he was not a father. Hange had but a few memories of him, and after all these years she had forgotten the sound of his voice, couldn’t for the life of her remember if his hair was as brown as her own, or had she inherited that vivid color from her mother. But what Hange could never forget, what was etched into her memory for all eternity was the look in his eyes – full of incomprehension, bewilder, disappointment – that he always aimed at her. No matter what she did – excitedly gushed about her studies, showed him a shiny rock she found or urged to go and see the frog she caught, her father had the same reaction, always told her the same thing,

“I expected better from you, Hange.”

Those words were the first dagger that was buried in her chest. But it was far from being the only one.

Her father died before she reached her eleventh birthday. And despite the mourning clothes mother had forced her to wear, despite the endless eulogies she had to sit through, Hange didn’t feel the same sadness that everyone around her did, she didn’t – couldn’t – share their pain or understand their grief. Her father meant something for all those people, but to her he was just a stranger, an unpleasant one at that. When he died, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without him, it was so much easier to breathe.

But her sorrows, her frustrations— sadly, they didn’t end with her father’s death.

Once Hange finished her studies, completed her training, she was sent to the outside world, far away from Marley. And for a moment, for one fleeting moment, she was happy, excited to do what she always wanted – learn and explore. But she was not meant to busy herself with research, to familiarize herself with different cultures, she was sent to these distant lands as a soldier, a weapon of great Marleyan Empire. Instead of books and quills, she held a rifle and a knife. And the only thing she learnt was how much blood her motherland was spilling on the foreign soils.

Sleep was coming harder to her after that, her dreams were haunted by visions of red, by screams of pain and anguish. She had become a soldier, her hands made for creation were now covered in blood. Her brilliant mind was now broken by the horrors she had faced.

And so Hange decided to cover herself in thick armor, to hide behind a smile and false happiness. The bad days persisted, losses following after her like a shadow, chasing like an infatuated lover, but she didn’t let it break her, continued moving forward with her chin raised high and her lips curled up.

However, despite the positive attitude she had adopted, there were lots of days Hange considered bad, awful even – the day when she learned just how Titans were created, what price Eldians had to pay for that; the day when she realized that her teacher, brilliant Tom Ksaver was one of those so called shifters, that his days in this world would end abruptly; the day when she received her first wound and spent the night in infirmary, wallowing in pain; the day when she killed another human for the first time and saw the light fading from someone else’s eyes; the day when Wall Maria fell and she witnessed just how much destruction and devastation she helped to bring to this little island; the day when Mike and Nanaba died; the day when her squad perished; the day when she had to leave Paradis behind; the day when she was brought back.

There were lots of days Hange considered to be bad. But nothing – absolutely nothing – could compare to the fucking shit show that was waiting for her next.

___

This fateful day was off to a good, if only slightly weird, start. As always she was woken up by a knock on the door. However, this one was very different from Moblit’s – less rhythmic, and much louder. In fact, it didn’t sound like a knock at all, more like someone was kicking the door repeatedly.

Confused and still sleepy, Hange rolled from the bed and went to greet her guest, not bothering to put her glasses on. Behind the now opened door she found… a shape that could or could not belong to a human. She raised her hand, mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and darted back inside the room, blindly searching for her glasses.

Once the specs took their rightful place on the bridge of her nose, Hange returned back to the shape that now took the form of a young, blonde man. She trailed her gaze down, to the tray he was holding. There were plates with pastries, omelet, sandwiches, sausages and a cup with brown liquid that had steam coming out of it.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke through her confusion, “But do I know you?”

“Not… yet?”

Hange couldn’t understand if his words were meant to be an affirmation or a question. Nevertheless, she took a step back, letting him in.

He went straight to setting up the table, humming under his breath as he did so. Hange watched him work, not knowing how to feel – puzzled or amused. She tried to catch the boy’s gaze and ask for his name, but, considering the amount of food he brought and how exquisitely delicious it looked, Hange already had a pretty solid guess about the persona of her visitor.

“Be my guest,” he gestured to the table after he finished setting it. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I guessed it already,” Hange smiled, taking a seat. Her stomach growled, as the delicious smell of homemade food entered her nostrils, her mouth filling with saliva even before she took a fork in her hands. She forced herself to look away from the food, however, directing her eyes at the man who had prepared it all. “Thank you for the food, but may I ask what is the occasion?”

Niccolo didn’t answer right away. He took his time, dragging the chair to sit on the other side of the table, then absentmindedly fixing the napkin and pushing the plate closer to Hange.

She didn’t urge him, patiently waiting for him to start talking. She had a feeling that whatever he came here to tell her was going to be extremely interesting.

And Niccolo didn’t disappoint.

“I’ve spent most of my life hating Eldians. Like every good, conscious Marleyan, I believed them to be devils and abominations. When these people captured me I thought it’d be better to die than live among them. But then I’ve got to know them better, I cooked for them, I’ve talked with them, I… grew to like some of them.”

He took a pause, and Hange used this moment to push some food into her mouth. Just as she expected – it was finger-liking good. And it tasted even better, because she also had an intriguing story she could listen to while eating.

“And there is one person that I like most of all, more than anyone I had ever met. I’ve realized my feelings long ago - perhaps, they were born the moment that I set my eyes on her, perhaps, it was destiny that brought both of us together. And to think of it – a Marleyan and an Eldian. If someone had told me years ago that I’d fall for a devil from Paradis, I’d probably punch that person in the face, but look at me now…”

A Marleyan and an Eldian? Hange had heard that story before. Hopefully, Niccolo’s would have a happier ending.

“I wanted to confess to Sasha for a while now, but the time was never right, and I kept stalling… You know, I thought there was no reason to be hasty. but then Jean told me what happened during the attack on Liberio, how I almost lost Sasha and my chance to tell her how I truly feel, so…” Niccolo looked Hange in the eyes, his gaze shining with the love he had for Sasha. “I came to say thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Hange felt her chest warm at the sight of such devotion. She always was a sucker for a young, tender love.

“And?” she leaned over the table, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did Sasha say? She returned your feelings, right?”

“Um.” Niccolo brought a hand to his neck, rubbing the back of it. “I didn’t do it, didn’t, eh, confess. Yet.”

“And when—”

“Today,” he said, confidence returning to his voice. “I planned a dinner for Sasha, invited her family and friends. Actually… I wanted to invite you as well.”

Despite regret that spread through her, Hange curled her lips in a comforting, gentle smile. “Not the best idea, but I appreciate the thought. And,” she added, her smile turning into a cheeky grin. “I’ll be expecting another visit from you, where you’ll share all the details.”

Hange wished she could see it for herself – Niccolo standing before Sasha red in the face, stuttering his undoubtedly sweet confession, Sasha gasping, with her mouth opening in shock, their audience watching it all with a mix of mortification and amusement. Hange wished she could have the privilege of being the part of that audience, alongside a certain Captain, who would cringe horribly at the scene, unfolding before their eyes.

Hange wished— for many things. Alas…

“I’m sure your plan will work out perfectly, but just in case,” Hange winked, snickering, when she saw red spread through Niccolo’s cheeks. “Good luck.”

“Knowing Sasha’s friends… I’ll need all the luck I can get. But for now, I also need to get going, the dinner won’t prepare itself. So thank you once again.” Niccolo stood up, bowing his head. “For everything.”

“Make Sasha happy, that’s all the thanks I need.”

Niccolo nodded, showing her a smile. He headed to the door, and just before he left the room, Hange gave him thumbs up, wishing him luck once more.

As the door behind him closed, she slumped back in the chair and continued munching on her breakfast, a blissful expression appearing on her face.

So… not only a great cook, but also a romantic? Sasha was such a lucky girl.

___

Her next visitors were just as unexpected, and their conversation - a lot less pleasant. It was in that moment that Hange started to suspect that this day would take its rightful place in the collection of her awful ones. But she was far from knowing just how horrible it had the potential to become.

The moment that Armin tumbled inside the room without knocking, throwing the door open in his haste, and Mikasa trailed after him, her pace much slower but just as unsure, dread settled in Hange's stomach.

"Hange-san!" Armin was speaking in a quiet, but barely controlled voice. His chest moved rapidly, as he struggled to keep his breathing slow and even. Hange swallowed her worry, her thoughts running at a lighting speed. What could possibly have happened to make him so panicked? She chanced a look at Mikasa - the young girl wore the same guarded expression she always did, but her eyes kept shifting from side to side, hands clasped together tight enough to make her knuckles white. "We need to talk."

Hange gave them a cautious nod and stood up from the bed, the book she was reading moments ago all but forgotten now. Pieck's warning was loud in her mind, as her fear grew. Marley... they couldn't have attacked so swiftly, right?

Hange gestured for her guests to take their seats at the table that stood near the window. Absentmindedly, she wondered where Moblit was. He didn't show his face to her even once this day. What could he be so busy with?

"Your guard told us that you had a visitor today," Armin stiffly began. "Mind telling us who that was?"

Hange frowned, cocking her head to the side. If the guard told Armin about the visitor, didn't she also mention that it was Niccolo? The cooking boy had to be known around the barracks, if he was that close to Sasha.

"Niccolo came by, he wanted—"

"You mean, Marleyan came by." Armin corrected.

"Sasha's and your friend, if I understood properly," Hange protested.

"But he's Marleyan. Just like you."

So, Armin was accusing her. And not only her, but Niccolo too. Accusing them of conspiring, but for what purpose? By which means? Against who? Hange was so confused. Hange didn't understand. Armin was always so rational, so coolheaded. What could possibly make him so frantic? What drove him to such desperation, to such wild guesses?

"Armin..." any other time, with any other person who trusted her just a fraction more, Hange would have taken their hand in hers. She'd caress it gently, try to calm them down, but in Armin's state... Hange worried that it'd make matters even worse. "Armin," she repeated, lowering her voice ever so slightly, making it sound more trustworthy. "What happened?"

Armin didn't answer, lowering his eyes - in shame or indecisiveness, Hange couldn't guess. And so Mikasa took the word.

"Chief Zacklay is dead," she said. And if that wasn't mind-blowing enough, she added, "Eren escaped from the prison."

"Fuck."

What else was there to say? Everything was turned on its head - Paradis' biggest defender seemingly had gone completely off the rails. Hange wondered if the threat of Marley invasion was still the scariest crisis the island would have to face. The absence of the clear answer was… unnerving.

“We don’t know what to do, or where to look for Eren. That’s why… Armin hopes that you’ll shed some light on that.”

Armin hopes – an interesting choice of words. He didn’t think, didn’t speculate, didn’t hypothesize. He hoped – exhibited a desperate, illogical kind of feeling. So… it was that bad, huh?

“I know nothing about it.” Hange said truthfully. “As you’re aware I’m not even allowed to leave this room.”

“We know.” Mikasa agreed softly, pressing her hand to Armin’s. “But it’s hard to come to terms with it.”

“He is your friend.”

Hange didn’t understand what they were going through, she never had someone that close to her destroy the trust between them, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Eren had changed, Eren had already lied to them once, but he was their friend, they’ve spent years, believing him and in him. They couldn’t change their opinion of him in just one night, they couldn’t let a few mistakes kill what they had created over the course of their lives.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how her friends felt. Was it just as hard to believe in her betrayal? Did Moblit and Levi feel just as lost and unsure? Were they just as desperate to come up with a reason for her behavior? Whatever they did, whatever they felt, Hange hoped she would never have to learn about it. She was miserable enough as it was.

But Eren knew what his friends were going through, had to be aware of the consequences of his actions, of what he was doing to his friends, how much he was hurting them. What drove him to his decision then? What happened to the boy with bright eyes and big heart?

“Do you have any idea what Eren is going to do?”

“I don’t think it’s Eren’s doing, Zeke is probably lying to him, but…” his eyes were still cast down, his finger weakly tracing some vague shapes, when Armin muttered, “Hange-san… do you by any chance know what rumbling is?”

Hange froze. Her throat constricted acutely, creating a quiet, choking sound. For one second, one terrifying second her heart stopped, ceasing its usual rhythm.

Rumbling? Did she hear correctly? Was Armin speaking the truth, did he mean what Hange was worried he meant?

Rumbling.

A short, but scary word. One that was mentioned in but a few frowned upon books. One that was only whispered amongst the members of Titan Society, too horrifying to speak it loud and clear. The word that meant death, the end of everything they knew about their world.

“We were meant to experiment with it,” Armin explained, wriggling his hands. “Nothing too serious, nothing too… devastating. Just a showcase of the power we yield, to keep the other nations on their toes. To keep them away from us. But ever since Zeke had appeared, Eren became so…”

Even since Zeke had appeared, Eren had decided to act on his own, distanced himself from his comrades and friends, joined forces with his brother. Hange would have believed, would have been convinced that the boy she once knew was incapable of such cruelty…

But Liberio, the heart of her homeland was standing in ruins. And it was Eren’s doing.

She narrowed her eyes, gave a scrutinizing look first to Armin, then to Mikasa. Hange really, really hoped that she was wrong. Against all sense, she hoped that they would drive away her doubts, that Eren’s closest friends knew him much more intimately than she ever could, that their opinion of him was right and just.

“Do you think he is capable of proceeding with it?”

“No,” Armin answered.

And the same time Mikasa said, “Yes.”

Yes, said the girl, who was in love with Eren, who was devoted to him above anything or anyone else. She said yes, spoke it quietly, in pained voice. But without a shadow of a doubt.

Hange shuddered.

She— they had to stop this. Somehow. Anyhow. Before it was too late.

"Eren can't activate the rumbling on his own," Hange mused out loud, biting at her thumb.

"Right," Armin confirmed. "He needs the bearer of the royal blood."

And that was good, that meant not all hope was lost. To go through with the rumbling, Eren had to find Zeke, and Zeke was out in the woods with Levi. He would never get away from Levi, and so the world was safe, but—

Zeke wasn't the only one with special blood. There was also—

Fuck.

"Historia, where is she?"

Armin's eyes widened, a gasp escaping him as he came to the same conclusion as Hange. "She arrived in the town... This morning."

And that was the morning Eren decided to make his escape. Hardly a coincidence.

"You don't think..." Armin began tentatively, his eyes pleading Hange to say that it was a joke, that she was wrong in her assumptions. She wished she could give him that reassurance.

"I don't know."

She didn't know what Eren's plan was, what was his goal, what was Zeke’s role in all of this. She didn't know what means Eren would use to ensure his success.

Would he go to his brother, would he trust him enough? Or would he go to Historia and risk hurting his friend?

And how Eren would get to them? Both Zeke and Historia were heavily guarded - Zeke as the hostage, Historia as a Queen and a future mother. But who was the easiest target?

With Levi being in charge of Zeke, Historia was an obvious choice, unless—

Hange swallowed heavily.

Unless Zeke was planning something too - some rouse, or a play, something that would fool Levi, make him lose his focus.

Make him lose Zeke.

And if that worked—

"Where is Historia?" Hange repeated that question. Hidden in the forest, theoretically, Levi was safe. He could hold his own in a fight against Zeke, Hange has seen him do just that in Liberio, even if some part of it was a spectacle. She also had seen Zeke after Shiganshina, personally tended to his wounds that refused to heal properly because of the amount of his injuries. Back then, every hiss of his was like a melody to Hange, a miniscule payback for the carnage he had born.

Zeke was far away from Eren, guarded by Levi. Hange had to trust him with that task. She had to hold onto hope that Levi would be safe. But Historia... Historia was another matter. She was here, close, and as good as her security was, they were not on par with humanity's strongest. They had to protect the Queen first.

"Historia chose this day to arrive because of Niccolo's invitation. She's probably in his restaurant, along with the others." Mikasa said.

So she wasn't alone, surrounded by soldiers and friends. Would that be enough to hold off Eren? Possibly, although, Hange wasn't sure.

But Eren was not alone, he had followers, the ones Moblit was so worried about. Would they be just as amicable? Would they not hurt the ones Eren cared so much about?

"Historia is our main priority. We have to go to the restaurant and make sure that—"

"We?" Armin interrupted.

Hange deflated. Of course, how could she forget? She wasn't their superior, their commander, their friend. There was no we. She was an outsider. She always were.

"I didn't mean to—"

"No." Mikasa curtly said. "We need you, Hange-san. We do," she repeated to Armin, who was already opening his mouth with a protest on his tongue. "We need all the help that we can get."

Armin studied Mikasa for a moment, then turned to face Hange, regarding her pensively. The intense look of his big blue eyes was unnerving, almost impossible to hold without flinching. There was a man Hange once knew with the same intent gaze. Oh, how she wished to see him again. He'd know what to do in a shitty ordeal they were facing right now.

"You're right," Armin sighed at last. "We might not have same goals or even enemies... but our concerns align. With you on our side, our chances are much higher. So, Hange Zoe," Armin offered his hand for a handshake. "Will you help us?"

An unlikely alliance then, huh? Hange could work with that.

She shook his hand with a smile.

___

Something was turning, twisting inside Hange on the way to the restaurant. Even the air seemed stiff, the landscape outside of the carriage bright, pretty but ominous all the same. Liberio - her city - looked just as lively before it got crushed.

And today, right now, she couldn't get that image out of her mind. The streets she walked through hundreds, thousands of times; bakeries she visited day after day; parks and playgrounds she admired from afar - everything was now gone, turned into debris, into nothing but broken stone and crushed glass.

And all of it - all the destruction, pain and blood and death - all of it was a courtesy of one Eren Yeager, the boy with bright eyes and passionate soul.

Would the same thing happen to another city? To all the cities in the world? To hundreds and millions of—

Hange took a deep breath, stopping herself before she screamed in fury, ripped something apart, overturned the carriage, or worse - started crying.

No. Nothing of the sort would happen to the other countries or their people. They would stop this— this catastrophe and Eren, and Zeke, and whoever else was involved. They would not allow another tragedy.

In the meanwhile, Hange did her damnest to focus on small, trivial things - the inside of the carriage, the bumps on the road, the subtle similarities between Mikasa and Levi, the sunbeam playing across Armin's face - anything to keep her mind from other, much scarier things. It didn’t really work.

"We are here," Armin announced, cutting through her morbid thoughts. He put a hand on her elbow - a tentative, but heartfelt gesture. Hange wondered just how disturbed she must have seemed to earn it.

"Let's go," she shook off all the worries, all of her fears. They weren't needed. They would slow her down, serve as a distraction, nuisance. And today, she had to be on her best. "We have no time to spare."

Mikasa and Armin seemed to be of the same opinion, and so the three of them left the carriage and started moving towards restaurant's entrance.

The place was much bigger than Hange had imagined it to be. She expected to see something small, but snug, something homely. But Niccolo's restaurant was grander than most buildings on Paradis. It didn't quite reach the luxurious and exquisite nature of restaurants in Marley, but— clearly, that was Niccolo's inspiration.

The restaurant - as big as it was - was packed, the merry sounds of laughter were heard even from the courtyard. People were celebrating, people came here to have some fun. Hange knew just how rare those instances were. And she hated being the one to put a stop to it. But she'd rather ruin someone's day and be wrong about her assumption or ruin someone's say and be right, than— Than not ruin someone's day, be right and waste precious time.

The three of them walked through the dark brown door, and instantly Niccolo stood in front of them, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Armin, Mikasa! I didn't think you'd make it! And you brought Hange with you!”

The happiness on his face was so endearing, so genuine. Hange was wrecked with sympathy for him. Niccolo was just a boy, who loved a girl, and decided that today of all days he'd make his feelings known. Unfortunately, the day he had picked turned out to be one of Hange's bad ones.

"Congratulations once again," Hange made sure to put on an extra gentle smile, in vain hope that it would soothe the effect of her next words. "But that's not why we are here."

"No?" the happiness was gone from Niccolo's face, suspicion overtaking it, but only for a second. Next came anger. "I thought we were over this," he leveled, glaring at Armin. "I thought we've already discussed everything you wanted. And I'm not going to deal with this bullshit again. Not today."

Niccolo whirled around, his leg raised to, no doubt, dramatically storm out. Mikasa's gravelly voice and a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. "If you don't want to ruin this day for Sasha, then take us to Queen Historia. Right now."

Oh. Even Hange felt shivers at that tone of voice, and the threat wasn't even directed at her. Was Levi teaching her his tricks? Or was every Ackerman just naturally good at being so scary?

Niccolo yanked his hand out of Mikasa's grasp, massaging it with a wounded expression. He didn't try to argue once again, though. And soon Hange, Armin and Mikasa were following after him to the banquet hall.

He took them through the lengthy hallway, past kitchen and washing room. At the edge of it, Hange could see two familiar figures - one tall, another short. They were standing next to a wooden cupboard, snickering quietly to each other. As they came closer, Hange realized that Jean and Connie were holding several bottles of wine, clearly having trouble choosing which one to open.

"Niccolo!" Connie yelled out, waving the bottles over his head. "Which one is better?"

"That's not for you, you idiots!" Niccolo snatched the bottles from their hands, his retort vicious— and more shaken than the situation truly called for. Any other day, Hange would have found it weird, would have paid more attention to it. Any day, but not during her bad day.

So she shrugged it off and after giving Jean and Connie a painfully awkward wave, continued following after Niccolo.

Once they were inside, Hange couldn't help but marvel at the amount of people gathered. There were lots of civilians, none of which Hange could recognize. And among them, there was a sea of green, representing the members of Survey Corps. Most of these faces were known to her. One of those faces in particular swiftly left the conversation he was having, gluing himself to her side.

"Hange-san? Armin? What is going on?"

Moblit had his mouth open, his eyes shifting between the three of them. Hange didn't know what he had seen there, what face she was making, but Moblit didn't ask another question, silently falling in step with them.

Sensing the change in the room, Jean and Connie hurried to do the same.

They all stopped in front of the table in the corner - one near the window and with a nice bouquet standing on it. The table was occupied by two - giggling Sasha, who was retelling some story in a rather animated fashion, and Historia, who listened to her friend with a joyful smile.

Looking at her, Hange couldn't help but be amazed. Last time she saw the girl, she had just become a Queen, still doubtful and unsure in her position. And, although, the woman before her eyes didn't look exactly royally – what, with her simple dress and long, loose hair - but Historia had certainly grown, become tougher, more confident in her abilities. However, she was still as pretty as a picture, and the motherhood had enhanced her beauty even further.

"Your Majesty," Hange was the first to take the word, but after that she faltered, not sure how to proceed further. Should she bow? Kneel before the Queen?

She was spared from making that decision. Because right in that moment, right when she was meaning to open her mouth and explain everything to Historia as curtly as was possible— her day turned from simply bad to straight up shitty.

"You!"

Familiar voice. The anger in it wasn't unusual too. Never before it was directed at her but—

Hange recognized the pride of Marley, the future Warrior right away. It was all she was allowed to do before getting promptly tackled to the ground.

"Traitor! Liar! How could you do that to us! How could you side with the devils?"

Gabi kicked and punched anything she could reach, accentuating her every word and accusation, but the blows were barely registered by Hange. She felt no pain, only huge amount of relief.

Gabi was furious, Gabi was loud. Gabi was alive and well.

A month, a whole month she spent worrying about these kids, only to have fate throw them back together in the most ludicrous way possible.

“Gabi,” despite her kicks, despite her loud shrieks, Hange smiled happily. She pulled the girl closer, wrapping one arm around her, while her other went to softly brush the girl’s hair. “Gabi, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“And why would you care?” Gabi suddenly sniffled, voice muffled by Hange’s shirt. “You never cared about us, did you? Only about those devils!”

“Gabi…” Hange sighed, finding herself at a loss of words. How could she explain something so complicated? Something she couldn’t understand herself?

Luckily, an unexpected help arrived.

"Don’t judge too harshly, child. You may not understand it yet, but humans' hearts are tricky things. No rules apply to them, they never listen to reason. They don't act like we want them to. They create emotions, make our lives brighter, and at the same time... So much more confusing. And accusing someone of caring for the wrong person… it’s just not right."

Hange looked up, surprised to see a middle-aged man standing before her. She was fairly sure that she had never met him before, but his eyes, his manner of speaking... Somehow, they were familiar.

Before she could connect the dots, however, her attention was ripped away once more, this time by Niccolo's deep voice.

"Eldians, Marleyans," he scoffed. "All of us are vile, devil is in each and every one of us. We're all imperfect, but all of us yearn to find the place where we belong, where we're loved. We don't choose who these people would be, we love others for what they are, not what they represent, or what side of the conflict they come from. And if loving my enemy is treason, I’ll gladly go down as a traitor."

Niccolo glanced back, meeting the eyes of the one he had dedicated this speech to. Hange caught Sasha’s bewildered, loving look and smiled, feeling her eyes go misty.

So, Marleyan and Eldian? Was a union like that even possible? Four years ago, on the dawn of the day when she left the one she loved the most behind, she'd say that it would never work out. But... times were changing, right? For the better, or so, at least, Hange hoped.

"Hange-san..." Moblit crouched beside her, painfully awkward. "Erm..."

Oh right. Only now, Hange realized that she was still lying on the floor. And that in on itself wasn't so unusual, but most of the times... she didn't have a ten or so pairs of eyes watching her.

Hange cleared her throat. Then, as absurdity of the situation caught up with her, snickered quietly.

"Hey, Gab," she stroked the girl's side. "Would you mind letting me get up?"

Gabi rose on her elbows, considering Hange. The frown on her face didn't vanish, but— her eyes weren't so full of rage anymore - clearly, the speeches had left an impression on her.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, lip stuck out petulantly. "But... I'm glad that you're here. Because it means they're coming for us, right? Commander Magath and Reiner— Reiner will save us, right? We just need to wait for a little longer, until they arrive."

They're already here, Hange wanted to say. If Pieck came, there was no way that Reiner would want to sit that one out— or be allowed to, anyway. Marley was coming, their guns blazing. But in the room full of members of the Survey Corps and Queen herself, Hange couldn’t say that, wasn’t yet ready to betray her country like that. She could only kiss Gabi's brow and promise, "You will be alright."

Reassured, Gabi nodded and let Hange get up. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, Hange found herself with someone once again wrapped around her. This time, however, the embrace was that much warmer and a lot less violent.

"Falco," she carded her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I take it you've missed me too?"

"You can't imagine," he spoke, his face pressed to her stomach. "Going on missions with Gabi is a torture! I could barely keep up with her!"

"You'll learn with time," Hange looked back, exchanging a look with Moblit. "It's not that hard to deal with annoying shits like us, right, Mob?"

He tugged at his collar, strategically evading her curious eyes. "Perhaps, after a very long while..." he reached out, patting Falco's shoulder. "And with the help of a good alcohol stash."

"Oi!" Hange slapped his arm. "He's only a kid!"

Moblit shrugged. "He has to know what is waiting for him."

"Don't listen to him," she gently consoled Falco. "He's joking."

Although... Hange had to agree with Moblit on that. If Falco continues running after Gabi like that, he'd have his first grey hair by the age of fifteen.

With the boy still clinging to her, Hange surveyed the room, swiping her gaze across Sasha and Niccolo, who stood side by side, wearing identical, enamored expressions, to Connie and Jean, who were whispering something to one another, and finally to Mikasa and Armin, who hid Historia behind their backs.

Right. She didn't come here for a cheerful reunion. The fate of the world was at stake. Hange pulled herself together and— pulled Falco away from her.

"Sorry, dear," she fondly ruffled his hair once again. "I need to go now, but I'll get back to you."

Could she do, though? Could she return to these kids, ask them to be placed under her care? Should she do it, considering that she didn't even know what was going to happen to her, where would she be one hour from now? Was it wise then to drag kids along with her? They were sharp and strong, more than capable, and they did survive on their own for so long— wait.

How did they manage to survive on a foreign soil, all by themselves? And why they were here today, in Niccolo's restaurant of all places?

"I guess these ducklings are yours?"

Oh. The familiar man that Hange had never seen was back, now standing in front of Hange, showing her a kind smile.

"We haven't been introduced, but it's hard to mistake you for someone else. Hange Zoe, right?"

"Right," Hange shook his warm, calloused hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Braus."

"The accent was a dead giveaway, huh?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a nice laugh, Hange decided, deep, heartfelt and genuine. She liked Mr. Braus, just as much as she liked his daughter.

"I understand that you're the one who had taken care of my ducklings," Hange giggled, catching Gabi's very much unamused look. "Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving my daughter's life. For that deed I could never repay you."

"That was... that was nothing. I did nothing, just happened to be in the right place, in the right time."

"It's only because of you that we're here, celebrating, instead of mourning. So," he gripped her shoulder tightly, his brown eyes staring into hers intently. "Let me express my gratitude, for that is the smallest thing that I can do."

"I think," Connie inserted himself between them, his mischievous smile lighting up the room. "This calls for a toast!"

No more than a second later, Jean had produced a bottle of wine, opening it swiftly and skillfully. Once the bottle was dealt with, he filled a glass with wine, thrusting it to the person standing closest to him. Which— happened to be Gabi.

She took all but a tentative sniff from the glass, before it was roughly yanked out of her hands. The drink splashed everywhere as Falco hurried to finish it, before Gabi caught up and took it away from him.

There was just as a couple of droplets left, everyone watched the scene in amusement, until—

Until Niccolo screamed.

He pounced from his place, wrestling the bottle out of Jean’s hands. “It’s not for you, morons! I told you not to touch it!”

Ice spread through Hange’s veins, as she heard the desperation in his voice. If her first thought was the right one… she had to make sure of it immediately.

“Who that wine was meant for?” she seethed, grabbing Niccolo by lapels of his shirt, suffocating him in her white-knuckled grip and currently not caring about it. Everyone in the room tensed, Sasha jumping closer to them, but Hange didn’t care, ignored all of them completely. “Who that wine was meant for?” she shouted, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

“F-for the military officials! It’s the good stuff, expensive, it was meant only for them!”

The good stuff, the best one they got, Hange reasoned. The next question was pointless, she knew the answer already, was the one who came up with this idea in the first place, but— Niccolo was a good guy, a sweet boy in love with a kind girl. Hange wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

And that was it. That’s all she had to do to get to the bottom of it. One short, simple question, and Niccolo crumbled. He didn’t try to fight her, made no attempts to protect himself. He hanged his head in shame, avoiding the dozen pairs of eyes that now were boring into him.

“They made me do it,” he whispered, his hands, his lips— his whole body shaking. “I had no choice, you wouldn’t understand—”

Oh, but Hange did understand. Better than Niccolo knew. She knew how it felt to be forced to follow the current, accept every cruel tide. She knew just how frustrating, how painful it was to lose control.

So yeah, Hange understood. But she could not excuse.

However, she had no place to judge as well, she herself was a reason for so many tragedies and disasters. She couldn’t judge, and she didn’t have the time for it. The deed was already done, now they had to try and undo it.

“Who gave you the orders?”

The spine fluid, injected into wine, came from Zeke, that Hange had no doubt about, but Zeke was far away, deep in the forest, under Levi’s watchful eyes. So who had redistributed the wine? Who was the betrayer, the real culprit?

“It’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. For only now Hange had realized what had happened moments prior. Falco drank the wine. Falco. Drank. The. Wine.

Her heart thumping, Hange pushed Niccolo away, grabbing Falco’s hand instead. Armin, Mikasa, the Queen, let someone else deal with that shit, for now she had to try and delay the inevitable. She looked around, her eyes wild, mind racing. “Where— where is the bathroom or— or a—”

“I’ll show you.”

It was Moblit’s quiet, reassuring voice. He gripped her elbow gently, taking her away. Hange let herself be led, rubbing soothing circles into Falco’s palm all the while. She didn’t know what do, wasn’t even sure that spinal fluid can be taken out of someone’s system, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t at least try. Falco, sweet, smart Falco, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be turned into a Titan, a mindless creature with no loyalties and feelings. Hange wouldn’t allow it, she was ready to do the impossible and then more to save the little boy.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hange set out to work - took off her coat, rolled the sleeves of her shirt, sat Falco down on a stool, pushed his head under the faucet, instructed him to try and rinse all the wine out.

It was possibly entirely pointless, Hange was pretty sure of it— but. What else could she do? Sit tightly and wait for the young life to vanish?

"That thing in the wine..." Moblit spoke up - calmly, but defeated, as though he had already surrendered to whatever tragedy that would befall him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hange tensed. Hange jumped to her feet, fisting her hand into Moblit's shirt so desperately, the fabric creaked in protest.

"Moblit," she croaked, her voice shaking, broken, eyes begging him to say that he was joking, that his inquiry was simple curiosity. "Moblit, did you drink that wine?"

"It was served at every government meeting. I couldn't refuse."

No. No. Hange couldn't believe, didn't want to believe it, Moblit— not Moblit, she didn't want him to fall victim to this, become another casualty in her long, extremely bloody career. Anyone else, but not— not him.

"It's the same tactic we used in Ragako village," she explained numbly. "Back then it was gas, this time the fluid that turns people into Titans was added into wine. It activates after Zeke screams."

"Ah," Moblit shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "If - when - I turn, you could experiment on me. Just— don't give me a stupid name like Sawney or Bean, I'd like, I think, I'd like to be called Moblit. If I'd still have some semblance of consciousness by that time, if not - you can call me whatever you—"

"Shut up." Hange choked, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ignored them, glaring fiercely at him. "Shut the fuck up, Moblit, you will not turn into a Titan, I will not allow it, I'll do whatever I can—"

"Hange-san," he smiled, and it broke her heart. "It will be okay."

It won't. Because it was her damn creation, made to defeat faceless, unknown enemies. And now it was used against people she cared about.

She had to do something about it. With a start Hange realized that the solution was... fairly easy.

"Avoid Zeke at all costs." She told Moblit, urgency turning her speech more frantic. "Don't go near him, try— try to get away if he gets into city—"

But Zeke couldn't get into the city. Zeke couldn't get out of the forest at all, couldn't make a single move without Levi knowing it.

Levi was the solution. He would keep Zeke under his guard, he would keep Moblit, and the rest of them, safe. Hange finally could take a breath.

But the calm didn't last for long.

As soon as she returned to Falco's side to check on the boy's condition, a loud crash came from somewhere deep within the restaurant. Hange heard the sound of hurried footsteps, then a concerning scream.

She exchanged a look with Moblit. Both of them started running at the same moment.

When they tumbled inside the main room, they froze in shock.

Sasha's family, members of Survey Corps and among them— soldiers with rifles. Hange scanned the room once more, her eyes travelling further, to the table by the window. She breathed out in relief - Historia was guarded by Connie and Jean. At least, the Queen was safe.

But not the rest of them.

"Squad Leader Moblit," the ginger head took a step towards them, a too wide smile plastered on his face. Hange didn't like that man and his smile. And the gun in his hands. The gun that was now aimed at the ceiling but could be very well aimed at Moblit, or anyone else in that room. “You’re the one I need.”

Moblit inched closer too, his chin held high and eyes defiant. Hange didn’t miss the fact that his movement hid her behind his broad shoulders. Oh, loyal, caring Moblit. How could she leave him to his fate?

“I’m here,” he leveled to the redhead. “What do you need me for, Floch?”

If it wasn’t for the gun in his hands, or the smile on his face, the way Moblit spelled his name – the obvious aversion, unhidden contempt was enough for Hange to understand that this Floch guy wasn’t very nice. And, despite the Wings of Freedom on his back, he certainly wasn’t Moblit’s friend.

So. That was one of the famed Yeagerists? And the rest of them, the ones that held civilians on gunpoint were the part of the same group? Hange was so not impressed.

“You’re buddies with Captain Levi,” Floch continued. “That means you know exactly where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps.” Moblit nodded. “But what makes you think that I will tell you?”

Floch’s smile grew, and the gun that was held lazily in his hand, pointing at the empty air, moved. It was lowered down, its barrel now staring right at Moblit. But the gun didn’t stop there, it moved again, shifting just a little to the side. To where Hange was standing.

“Hange Zoe, right?” Floch tilted his head, so he could look straight at her. “I didn’t have the pleasure to make your acquaintance before, but I’m glad that life threw us all together. Especially now, for you see…” he lifted a hand, and a soldier took his place, his rifle raised, while Floch paced from side to side. “I’m not allowed to hurt them,” first he pointed at Jean and Connie. “Or her,” now at Historia. “I’m, however, allowed to do with the others whatever I want. And since hurting our dear Squad Leader Moblit wouldn’t bear the needed results…” he spread his arms, shrugging helplessly. “No one would miss a traitor, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Moblit surged forward, shoulders shaking from the unbridled fury. But he made no more than a few steps, before he was immobilized, two soldiers coming from behind to grab his arms and twist them painfully. Moblit didn’t back up even then, continuing his fierce resistance. “Leave her out of this!”

“Ah, yes,” Floch chuckled to himself, observing Moblit’s struggling with morbid fascination. “The luck is surely on our side today. You will be useful after all, Hange Zoe. We will take you with us.”

No sooner than these words left his mouth, Hange felt a pair of hands around her, subduing and enabling to make a single move. She thrashed, she kicked, but to no avail.

“Floch—” Moblit grounded, pulling on his restraints.

“Don’t you worry,” Floch squeezed Moblit’s shoulder, showing him a look of feigned affection. “No one is going to get hurt, if you cooperate.”

No. They couldn’t cooperate. Cooperating meant leading Floch and his bunch to Zeke, and that meant leading them to Levi.

“Mob! Don’t listen to him! We can’t–” instinctively, momentarily forgetting about the arms that held her down, Hange reached out to him, trying to catch his eyes.

But Moblit turned his face to the other side, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Ah. Hange’s heart sunk, while Floch clasped his hands in delight.

“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice! And now,” he raised a finger, and Hange with Moblit were forced to move forward. “Let’s get going!”

___

Outside, the weather changed. The sun hid behind the heavy, grey clouds, the rain was now steadily falling down, creating puddles under their feet.

The gloomy weather further enhanced the trepidation inside Hange. The feeling, the certainty that something was going to get very wrong and very fast persisted, forcing her to grab the reins of the horse tighter, in vain hope of providing some miniscule outlet to her ever growing anxiety.

Despite the fear, Hange spurred her horse forward, doing her best to ignore the rifles pointed at her back. It was proving to be quite a vexing task, when the said rifles kept pushing her to move even faster but— it wasn’t the worst situation Hange had found herself in. That time when she and Zeke were captured by the enemy forces and put inside a fortified prison was so much worse. The prison had anti-Titan artillery surround the perimeter, they were alone and cut off from their allies. And still they managed to escape. Compared to that, a few Yeagerists were nothing.

Although, Hange had to admit – the stories did them no justice. In reality they were a lot more vile and disgusting.

But, apparently, Levi still trained some of them. And, boy, did he teach them well. One soldier behind Hange kept huffing, cursing the weather under his breath. Hange waited, and when he once again got distracted by the mud that splashed on his boot, she thanked Levi for his absurd obsession with cleanliness and acted, stealing that little moment for herself.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Moblit who was riding right beside her, and whispered to him in a voice just slightly louder than the sound of the rain. “Remember that thing we did during Erwin’s coup-d'etat?”

Moblit winced, anxiety reflecting in his eyes. “When we punched people that were armed with rifles?”

Hange grinned. Atta boy, of course, he remembered. “I’ll give you a signal,” she nodded discreetly and returned to her previous position, now directing all of her attention on their fearless, redheaded leader.

“So Zeke is your main goal, right? You don’t actually need Historia?”

Floch scoffed, rising his nose up in distain. “The Queen is a back-up plan.” Wow, getting information out of them was that easy? Some devoted followers they were. Hange continued listening, eager to know what else Floch would reveal. “We’re not sure what exactly is going to happen, and Eren… doesn’t like hurting his friends.”

They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Only for these words Hange was ready to throttle each and one of them. What was going to happen? Mass destruction and death, a lot of unnecessary deaths.

But did these children care? Of course, they didn’t.

And would Zeke care about it? Hange wasn’t sure. Zeke was many things – cruel, violent, heartless, he never cared that much about other people. However, he was his father’s son, and, as much as he had loathed Grisha Yeager, Zeke still carried around the hero complex that his father fought so hard to plant inside him. Was it possible then that Zeke would be against the rumbling? Was it possible that he didn’t know of Eren’s true intention, that he blindly trusted his little brother?

Was it possible that their goals didn’t align? If so… then Zeke was a key player in this game of chess. He was a powerful figure they had to get on their side. If Hange could talk to him—

A loud sound, a crashing bang interrupted the flow of her thoughts, making her jump in the saddle.

That noise, it was similar to a thunder, but not quite. Hange knew that sound all too well, was the one who created the devise that was activated with the very same sound.

It couldn’t be— that noise couldn’t come from a thunder spear explosion. But… what other explanation was there?

“Let’s head there!” Floch commanded. “Something must have happened.”

Hange’s heart raced as they inched closer and closer to the place where the sound had come from. It wasn’t hard to find, the gory sight of the poor, wounded horse and the blasted cart was easy to spot.

They approached it slowly, and suddenly Hange froze, her eyes landing on something near the riverbank. Something that looked a lot like a body – a short one with strong stature and black hair—

“Moblit,” she whispered, begging him to clear her suspicions, to reassure her that she was mistaken.

But Moblit pursed his lips, and shook his head – brief, but resolute.

For a second, Hange froze, overcome with desperation and fear. Her heart stopped too, if just for a moment.

Levi, he couldn’t— but what if he did?

Ignoring the insistent shouts and strict orders to come back, Hange jumped off the horse, scrambling to get closer to the riverbank and to him.

She fell into the mud, uncaring of her clothes, of the mud she was splashing around. She felt nothing, the rain, the river, her captors, it all faded into background. She cared for nothing else, except the limp body in her hands.

Oh, please, please, please.

Her hands trembled as she turned the body to face her, careful as she could be. A bloody mess, her personal nightmare stared right back to her.

And in that moment— Hange felt her heart break, ripping, shuttering into thousands pieces. She thought she knew loss before, she thought she knew what pain was.

She was so wrong.

[becomingbts]

Would You Like to Order a Sip of Happiness?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Type: angst, fluff but without any real romance

Warning(s): mention of (natural) death, grief, and depression.

Genre: Fantasy, university au!

Summary: It had been a rumor, a fairy tale, an old story… Until Jimin had no other choice but to believe it.

5.5k words

Note: OKAY HERE WE GO I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFT FOR LIKE, FOREVER. I’m so happy I’m done with it!! I’m pretty satisfied I think, so I hope you’ll like it! Take care everyone, please, feedback is always warmly welcomed! I try to answer everyone uwu Take care, lots of love!!!! Dolly (who is going to sleep now lol)

It had been a rumor.

A groundless rumor said that there was a weird coffee shop in town. It had been there for ages, apparently. The rumors said that people found out about where the shop was only when they truly needed it; they said it was an unconscious process made by their brains, feet guiding them by themselves to the said coffee shop without leaving any memory about the right path to go back once they left. Thus, no one knew where it was. The few people who had found the coffee shop were left unable to find their way back to the place as if a spell was preventing them from finding the shop again. This unexplainable phenomenon made people dubious and for those who dared to say that the shop existed, that they had seen it by themselves, rare were those who listened to them without laughing at them. Nobody actually believed them. And if this whole thing of not being able to find the shop again was already sketchy, the rest of their stories usually made it even less credible. Rumors said that this coffee shop offered to serve memories; 'a journey into your soul, into life and discoveries'. It sounded like a fairy tale coming straight from a book, if not a complete made-up lie. It had been said that one slice of cake from the shop was enough for people to travel to unknown landscapes and that a sip of tea was able to recreate the happiest memory of someone.

Jimin had heard of those rumors too. He had even met one person who had declared to have been in the coffee shop by themselves and thus knew that it existed.

It had been his grandmother. She was not there anymore to narrate the complex story, but she used to tell Jimin that it did really exist. When he was a kid, he was fascinated by the story. From what his grandmother had told him and what he had gathered, it could mean only one thing: the coffee shop was magic. His grandmother had explained to him that a nice lady had asked her if she had wanted anything that was on the menu.

"Even though I thought that all the names were ridiculous, I couldn't help but be curious. The menu had many things like 'a sip of happiness' or a 'chamomile of joy'. I thought I was in a dream. I had never seen that shop before, and it felt like it had appeared out of nowhere. However, everything seemed very old inside, as if the café had been around for years. The chairs were crackling, the parquet seemed old too, and even the menu looked kind of historic! It felt like the shop had always been there." She had remembered happily with a hint of nostalgia.

"What did you order then, Ma?" Jimin had asked curiously.

"Ah, I ordered a 'latte of memories' and a slice of 'cakescape'. If you ever find the shop, you should order one slice of that cake too. I know you'll love it!" His grandmother had always worn that warm smile on her features. She used to smile a bit brighter when she talked about her encounter with the shop.

"Was it tasty?"

"It was the best thing I ever had. But it wasn't the most surprising part of the story. When I closed my eyes, I could hear and smell different things, as if I had gone out of the coffee shop and was somewhere else. It was confusing at first, especially when I noticed that the smells and the atmosphere felt familiar. It was hard to remember where I knew those scents and noises from, but after a few seconds, I realized it was just like my sister's home. It used to be my favorite place in the world; smelling like cinnamon and bread. I could hear her dog barking somewhere and her voice was so, so clear in my head as if she was actually there with me. I knew it was impossible because my sister had passed away a few months before. But I could hear her singing lightly, giggling happily as she was baking. It was almost as if everything that had gone wrong with my sister's death had never happened. But once I opened my eyes again, I was back in the coffee shop. The smell had changed again, and I could not hear my sister anymore,” the old woman’s expression had soured a bit before she had continued, “I cried a lot that day; all the pain left from my sister's death had come to my mind again, and it felt like I was finally grieving like I had wished to have the time for. I remember the owner giving me a hug and asking me if I felt better. I don't exactly remember what happened afterward, but all I remember is being out of the coffee shop and just feeling so relieved and relaxed. I never found the shop again. I tried, trust me, I redid almost all streets I had gone through that day. But I never found the coffee shop again."

"What was the name of the shop, Ma'?"

"Serendipity."

Jimin used to think that it was amazing, especially when he was a kid. Yet, he now knew that it had been a silly story that his grandmother had invented to make him dream. He had been feeling a little bit betrayed at first, but he knew better than to hold a ridiculous grudge against his dear grandmother who had just wanted to offer him a nice story to remember.

However, to his surprise, when he entered university, he heard the familiar story again. He realized that the university rumor—that he soon learned to be famous here—was awfully close to the story of his grandma, and it had bothered him at first. Maybe it had just been a popular story that his grandmother had learned about, after all? It had taken him aback, not ready to hear the story again after years of not hearing it, and especially not from someone else and with different details. He had definitely not thought that anyone would know this story; he had always believed his grandmother had made it up, so to learn that it was a popular rumor on his campus? That had unquestionably been unexpected for him. And as much as he had tried to convince himself that it probably wasn't the same story, that it just had been hazard playing with his head, Jimin came to the conclusion that it truly was the exact same one. There were too many similarities for it to be a coincidence. The story almost felt like some kind of folklore story that ran into the corridors for years without any answer for the people who were questioning the shop's existence. People either dismissed the story or some were fully engrossed in it; a club had even been created in the university in order to search for the said coffee shop.

Jimin wasn't too big on looking for the shop nor did he fully disregard the rumor, yet he had mixed feelings when it came to it. Maybe he had wished for this rumor to be less popular since his grandmother had passed away. His feelings had been locked away, tears hidden while he had not been allowed to take his time to grief; the university had still been ongoing and he had still needed to pass his semester. Jimin's family had refused for him to miss classes, and he had been sent back to Seoul without getting proper time to swallow his loss. It came to a point where Jimin just wanted to yell at every single person speaking about it because it just reminded him of his grandmother. It felt unfair.

Why did he have to go through that? University had barely begun, it was his first semester there and if the familiar story had brought him comfort the first few weeks, it brought him face to face with his worst fears now that he was left alone. The story no longer reminded him of a happy time, but rather of his loss that he was never granted time to cope with. Jimin couldn't help the tears that sometimes threatened to escape from his lashes, but he held on tight, mood souring as midterms came closer and so did his despair. Overwhelmed by sorrow, motivation felt like something he'd never be able to muster again. Getting up started being difficult, eating became a bother, washing up a burden, so learning was at the bottom of Jimin's priority list. Shaking himself up seemed impossible and while he didn't want to admit it to himself, Jimin came to terms with the fact that he wasn't alright, but he'd find a way to feel better eventually.

Not that this admission mentally helped, but at least, it would be a step toward his recovery (hopefully).

In the middle of the stress and growing tension that was palpable in the corridors of the university, Jimin had become detached from this little world. The anxiety of his friends was—to him—incomprehensible, and Jimin's passivity was frustrating for his close friends. They all tried to make him talk, to understand why he was falling into this deep hole he had started digging for himself. None of them could recognize him, it was as if he had been stripped out of his happiness and of the life that was glistening in his eyes and while they wanted to help, they also had their exams to worry about. None of them wanted Jimin to feel like their work was more important than his well-being, but at some point, none of them knew how to help him without feeling like they were losing him for an unknown reason. One of his closest friends, Namjoon, had even begged Jimin to talk, took him on several walks with him, brought him to their favorite coffee shop, to the library... Anywhere outside the university, since it seemed to be the place that was numbing him. He couldn't understand why, but the campus always seemed to push Jimin to his worst mood, so they all avoided bringing him there if not necessary. It had been a silent agreement between themselves, and Jimin had been honestly grateful for them to catch this little detail.

Yet, Namjoon's effort did not change Jimin's behavior. He never talked, never shared his feelings, never gave a sign of opening up. At least, he did smile a bit when they took a walk together, so Namjoon kept on going with him every single day in order to try and get him out of his bad thoughts. Maybe they couldn't help solve his problem, but if they could alleviate the pain, it would still be something they would gladly do.

It was during one of those walks that Jimin saw a small cat and got distracted until he actually lost Namjoon. Frowning to himself, Jimin had tried calling his friend, but to no avail. It was already quite late; looking for one another would just make them lose time. Leaving a voicemail to tell him not to worry and to just go home, Jimin activated his navigation app and walked in the direction of his home until he came to a dead end. Cursing against the app under his breath, Jimin turned around and noticed that the cat he had previously been distracted by was now sitting in front of an illuminated door, much to Jimin's surprise.

Had the cat followed him? But why did it seem like it was actually waiting for him? Curiosity getting the best of him, Jimin got closer to the cat that was observing him and he faced the shop, gawking.

The Serendipity.

Frozen as if time had stopped; snow could have been falling, Jimin wouldn't have noticed. He was staring at the shop, incredulity written all over his features while he tried to swallow the lump that had started to form in his throat. He couldn't talk, only a dry laugh escaped him as tears started rolling on his cheeks.

So that was it? He would never find peace, would he? He was doomed to eternally miss this old woman that had brought so much comfort to him in his teens. He had not been able to see her nearly as often as he wished he had, but she still had meant so much to him; why was destiny so cruel to take her away so quickly? Shaking himself up, he wiped his tears away as he grew angry.

Why did this fucking shop have to appear now after years of thinking that it was a mere invention of his grandmother? Why did it have to remind him of the person he lost?

Jimin almost wanted to run away, turn around and never look back. He didn't have to enter after all.

However, he felt a pull toward the shop as if he subconsciously knew that he had to get inside and see what he would find. Jimin clicked his tongue, annoyed at his own curiosity. He wished he could honestly say that he just wanted to go home and fall asleep under his heavy blanket, but he knew better than to lie to himself. He had done that enough already.

The shop was calling for him and he physically needed to know what he would find. Even if his heart ached at the simple thought of his grandmother, he needed to know.

After all these years of wondering, he could have his answer. So when he heard the chime sound as he pushed the door open, Jimin let the warmth of the café engulf him, drying his wet cheeks while the feeling of warmth made his heart tighten. He couldn't help but think that disappointment was probably the only thing that he would be met with. Jimin wasn't as gullible as people thought him to be. He might have wanted to believe in fairy tales, but he knew better than to actually think it existed for real. Jimin knew that he would probably drink a cup of tea that wouldn't be out of the ordinary and neither would the cake be magical. He sighed heavily, almost ready to turn around and berate himself for his moment of delusion, yet before he could, the cat planted itself in front of the door and mewed loudly as if trying to warn him not to leave. Blinking a few times, Jimin crouched in front of the cat, tilting his head in a confused manner.

"What are you up to bud? You're cute, but I need to get home-"

"I see you met with Ji, welcome Jimin-shi, we've been expecting you for a while," Jimin's head shot up as he heard the voice of a woman coming from behind him. Turning around quickly, he was met with blue eyes and a warm smile while he stared awkwardly.

"How... Do you know my name?" He quickly checked his jacket to verify that no name tag was hanging for the young woman to see but he grew even more uneasy as he saw none.

"Ji told me," she smiled as she pushed a chair close to the counter to the side as if inviting him to take a seat. If he had to be honest though, Jimin would admit that he would rather run away than accept the invitation of a stranger who seemed to know him while he had no recollection of any previous meeting. He would be less suspicious if he had had troubles with remembering faces or names. After all, she looked young enough to be around his age, maybe she saw him around campus? But her face truly didn't ring any bell and Jimin usually had a really good memory when it came to faces.

Even more reasons to feel suspicious.

"Ji?" He asked cautiously.

"Yeah, Ji. The cat," the cat mewed before jumping on the counter and the young woman rolled her eyes, "I know, you're not a cat, you're a witch, blablabla, I know the song. Please, don't stress our guest more than he already is, he looks like he is about to run away any second!" She giggled as the cat mewed again; the young woman turned to Jimin again, smiling at him with caring eyes. He didn't know if he should be worried or soothed by her gaze; he felt like he should feel uncomfortable, yet, as strange as it sounded, he didn't feel ill at ease, "please, take a seat! What would you like to order?" Jimin wanted to politely refuse, tell her he needed to go and hide under the sheets of his bed after a warm shower. However, for some reason, Jimin's body chose to compel to her voice and not to his brain and he simply sat at the counter while struggling to find his words. Looking at the woman with terrified eyes, he noticed her name on her apron.

Serendipity's (Y/N).

The name did not ring any bell either. Why did she seem to know him then?

"Here, the menu. You can order what fits your heart." He shouldn't. He knew better than anyone else that he should leave, run away and never look back. This was starting to freak him out, yet his eyes merely listened to his brain as he started reading the menu.

Jimin's breath hitched; he definitely shouldn't have read it. He should have left the café when he had the opportunity to do so because Jimin felt nauseous as his eyes landed on "the latte of memories" and the slice of "cakescape". Jimin forgot how to breathe for a second as the vivid memories of his grandmother came back flooding his mind. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it now? He could still remember how his grandmother had advised him to order the latte of memories and the cakescape the day he would find the café. Her words were ringing in his head, loud enough for his head to spin ever so slightly. He couldn't make out the other words written on the menu as if these two words were the only thing he could properly read. Shaking his head for a second, he rubbed his eyes painfully before they landed on the menu again. 

Without any change. 

Jimin's still couldn't read anything else, the whole menu was blurry as if he had been crying. Would he be ridiculous for actually crying because he suddenly couldn't read anymore? Probably. He needed to get a grip on himself. Jimin couldn't let his feelings overwhelm him like that; he was in an unknown—and potentially dangerous—place, he had to focus so that he could leave. He wasn't stupid; he knew that he was not in the right state of mind to be alone in the streets at such a late hour, but he also needed to get out quickly. He couldn't stay here where he could feel himself already spiraling.

"Have you chosen anything?" His head snapped in the direction of the young woman, (Y/N), as her voice woke him up from his trance. Her eyes glistened almost with mischief and he wondered what it was about her that felt so ethereal.

"I-" Struggling to find his words, the lump that was stuck in his throat made itself known again and Jimin coughed a few times as he tried to voice his thoughts. He mentally cursed, what was it today with his voice not coming out when he desperately need to put his distress into words? His despair must have been clear on his face, features contorting in pain, because (Y/N) disappeared for a few seconds before coming back with a glass of water. Jimin's eyed it nervously, watching her curiously as she took the seat next to him. 

"You can drink it, it's just water, we don't charge for water, don't worry," she smiled soothingly but he didn't dare to try to tell her that money was not really his first concern. Though, the water looked clear and when he brought his nose to the glass, it didn't smell anything weird. It seemed to be plain water, which put Jimin a bit more at ease than he previously was. Drinking hastily, Jimin didn't dare meeting (Y/N)'s cheeky smile and smiling eyes. He didn't want to see the triumphant features on the woman's face. Feeling her gaze on him as he put his glass back on the counter, he glanced hesitantly in her direction. He noticed the cat (the witch?) jumping on the counter too as if curious about the Newcomer. Ji seemed to study him until it could be certain that he was harmless. 

Weird, he thought. If anyone should be suspicious of the place and of someone, it should definitely be him, not the cat. It had felt like the cat had led him there and even expected him, if Jimin were to be honest. Yet suddenly, it felt as if the danger could be him as if his presence had disrupted the tranquility of their safe bubble. Jimin's feelings of uncertainty and uneasiness seemed to vanish slowly as he watched the cat's tail wrapping around his wrist gently. Internally giggling, Jimin stretched out his hand, letting the cat sniff his hand before deeming him worthy enough to let him run his hand through its fur. Tilting his head in curiosity, Jimin watched the cat jumping out, going back to its original spot. 

"So, should I get you anything?" Meeting her eyes in confusion, Jimin got reminded where he was and what he was doing. Blinking slowly, he wondered if he should get something as his grandmother had recommended him to, or if he should simply get up and leave to find his way back home. Yet, despite his chaotic thoughts and prior fright, his answer came out almost naturally.

"A slice of cakescape with a latte of memories, please," he watched as her smile grow while she nodded before disappearing, leaving him wondering what the hell he was doing. 

Jimin should have left a while ago. He had to get home quickly so that he wouldn't be too tired tomorrow. He had a lot of classes; it wasn't the time to fool around. He should be freaking out about finding the Café of the rumors and reading the exact same order like the one that his grandmother had recommended to him when she narrated the story when he was younger. 

Nothing made sense and yet...

And yet, Jimin felt like he belonged here for a while. The cat had somehow trusted him enough to let him pet his head, (Y/N) seemed like a normal person (oh well, maybe not normal, but normal enough)... He didn't feel nearly as panicked as he probably should and he didn't know if it freaking him out or if he was eased by his sudden feeling of safety. Maybe he had been bewitched. After all, (Y/N) did say that the cat was a witch... 

Jimin chuckled at himself. He really needed to stop believing in children's stories. He was an adult now, he should know better. 

Yet, if he had not believed his grandmother's story before, he was now met with the fact that she had probably told him the truth. Maybe not the part of the crazy story about her being brought back to the house of her deceased sister, but the café truly existed. 

His confused trail of thoughts got interrupted as he saw a plate with a slice of cake and a mug dropped in front of him on the counter. The young woman smiled at him before organizing her desk. Watching her for a quick second, Jimin wondered if he should ask anything. Why was the café so Well hidden? Did she know about the University club created to search for the shop? Did she know about the fame of the café? Yet before he could ask any of the questions that had been burning his tongue, she had turned around and had already disappeared in what Jimin expected to be the kitchen. Only him and Ji were left in the room and even if Jimin tried to ignore the fixed glare he felt behind him, he sighed, turning around to face the cat that was indeed staring at him. 

"What?" Jimin asked, thinking about how ridiculous he must have been looking to talk to a cat. He obviously did not get any answer. Rolling his eyes playfully, Jimin gawked at his order in wonder. What should he start with? 

Eating. You always eat before you drink. 

Digging into the cake, Jimin closed his eyes at the taste in amazement. Fuck, it was really good. It would have been dumb not to order anything. 

Always trust Grandma. 

Sipping in his latte, Jimin ate his slice too quickly for his liking (had his discovery been during the afternoon, he would have probably ordered a second one, but the late hour did not really leave him with that choice), yet he felt a bit dizzy. Rubbing his fingers on his temple, he squinted for a second before feeling like the ground was moving under his feet. Hands harshly gripping at the counter to try to remain firmly seated, dizziness fully overwhelmed his body until it finally stopped. 

Panting uneasily, Jimin tries to catch his breath and to soothe down his panic, however, it only grew greater as he realized that he was unable to open his eyes. Trying to force them open, nothing worked. Jimin's eyes remained firmly closed against his own will. He gritted his teeth in frustration while trying to breathe deeply to avoid any panic attack. He needed to remain calm and to have a hold on his feelings. Getting overwhelmed was not a possibility. 

God, Jimin had known he should have run away the moment he had entered the shop. What had suddenly gotten him so pliant? So happy to stay? He had no idea and it was frustrating him to no end. Yet, Jimin froze as he heard a familiar tune. Catching a painful breath, Jimin tried to focus on what he heard rather than on the building anxiety that was eating him alive. Mind overwhelmed with racing thoughts, Jimin couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

This melody; he knew only one person who could sing it and this person left him a while ago. It wasn't possible, where the fuck was he and who was trying to torture him in such a cruel way? Had it not been enough to take his grandmother away from him? Now they had to make him believe that she was still there? It wasn't a good joke; that wasn't funny at all. Had he ever told anyone about his grandmother's story? Jimin didn't think so, but it felt like someone was playing with him as if trying to make him believe that the story of his grandmother had fully been true and that he was brought back to the one person he loved unconditionally but had been taken away from him. Yet, it was impossible! What the hell was he thinking about? He couldn't seriously start thinking that it was true, right? His grandmother couldn't have possibly told him the truth when she told him that she had been brought back to her sister's home, could she? 

"Jimin-ah!" No, it wasn't possible. This voice couldn't be here now. She couldn't be... There. "Jimin-ah, my boy! You're still so handsome, what a man!" Was there a way for it to stop? He couldn't do it, he would crumble under the pain if he let himself believe that it was true. It had to stop. "Oh no, my love, my baby. Don't cry, Jiminie. I'm so proud of you, you've been doing so well! You entered University just like you wished! I'm happy for you, I truly am." Jimin had not even realized that he had started crying, his tears had just naturally rolled on his cheeks. Feeling a warm hand whipping them away, Jimin couldn't help but burst into tears in the arm of the old woman that was seemingly in front of him. She caught him easily, gently rubbing his back as he cried, pained by his inability to see. He still couldn't open his eyes and it was killing him. What would he give to see his grandmother again?

"You've been strong, Jiminie. So strong-" he had never felt strong ever since she left; he had only felt the weight of despair hold him back. 

"I miss you," he didn't even think that his voice would collaborate, but it surprisingly did. 

"I'm always with you, bub, you're never alone."

"But I miss you," he repeated himself like a mantra, he hoped that maybe saying it, again and again, would make her take the decision to stay, to remain by his side. He would quit University to take care of her if he needed to, he'd do anything. 

"I know you do, but you have to live on, Jiminie. You have so much to do, so many friends who care. Try to see what you still have, not what is not physically here anymore. My love for you will always remain close to you. I'm watching over you Jimin-ah, don't forget, okay?" He nodded painfully against her, feeling like a child all over again. 

"You'll be fine without me Jimin-ah, trust yourself more! You're a capable young man, you'll do great!" He heard her giggle almost lightly and it made him smile between his tears. 

Yet as her hands stopped rubbing his back, he suddenly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. (Y/N) was watching him with a sad smile and his cheeks were still wet. 

He was back to reality as his dream crashed into billion pieces of broken glass, leaving him in a vulnerable state as he had never been before.

Jimin was much too honest with his feelings to hide his trembling lips and the tears that already threatened to escape his lashes and even if he hates himself for being in such a vulnerable state in front of a stranger, the young woman didn't hesitate for a second before hugging him tightly as he cried his despair and pain. It took him a few minutes to finally regain his composure and even he apologized for ruining her shirt (his tears had stained the thin white cotton), she had brushed him off with a smile, preparing a warm tea for him to take on his way to home. Confused yet grateful for her gentle gesture, his words were again lost in his throat and as he was almost ushered out by Ji, (Y/N) followed him to the door. It was such a weird headspace. Everything seemed to happen as a movie, Jimin didn't feel like he had any say or power over what was happening. His feet carried him outside while (Y/N) waved him warmly from the door. He had already started walking away when he suddenly remembered something. Jolting awake, he turned around quickly to find the young woman still at the door, looking at him bewildered. 

"Will I see you again?" He asked, hopeful. 

She smiled gently, yet it didn't feel like it was nearly as warm as a few minutes ago when she held him tightly.

"We'll see each other when you need me against Jimin-ssi." Waving one last time before she got back inside the café, Jimin was left alone to wonder. She still had not given a proper answer as to how she knew his name. Or did Ji, the cat—witch—really tell her? He didn't remember telling her or knowing her from somewhere, but maybe he did? Running back to the café to ask her, Jimin was met with grey doors; nothing that looked like the shop that he had previously visited. 

What ... The hell? 

Where the hell was the café? Looking around, Jimin noticed that the street had considerably dimmed as the main source of light had been the decoration of the shop.  Had he just... Dreamed or had the shop truly disappeared? 

Recalling (Y/N)'s almost sad smile, he wondered if it was the reason behind the sourness of her features and her last words. 

They'll see each other again when he'll need her? He hoped this time would come soon then because he had a lot of questions. He felt much lighter now that he had had a shoulder to cry, though.

But when he said a lot, he meant enough to make a list that he would actually write on a sheet of paper and hide in his wallet. He would get his moment to ask them, he somehow just knew he would.

[anamariaabolivar]

26 : aloe + basil

aloe: how does your muse handle grief ?

a lot of her life is made up of grief. to the degree that i think that at the current moment, it would be hard for her to isolate grief as a single, unaffected feeling. when she first lost her father and her sister, she might have then identified as singularly and entirely consumed by grief. i think at that time, it was through a lot of crying, isolation, though within the same residence as other people. distant enough to be alone but not so distant that it seemed dangerous to herself. i think at first, it was overwhelming waves of almost incomprehensible sadness that she was trying to wade through. a lot of the days, it was really having alejandro there that got her through it. he was so young, and needed her. she couldn’t lose herself to these emotions, so it was really one foot in front of the other mentalities that kept her going.

but the deep feelings of grief that line her life now started before then, it started with losing friends, and being scared about what being such a young mother would mean. it started with the loss of her old reputation. it predated the loss of her family and it continued onwards. there was a lot to mourn. she mourns for her family, she mourns for others, she mourns for what her future could have been, and most of all, she mourns for her people. i think these days it’s not as much of like an active process of handling it. she’s sat with it long enough that grief and mourning are familiar to her. it’s more of a casual acknowledgement of these things in her daily life. she has small traditions to acknowledge and remember things she lost that still live on in her heart. she also has taken to acknowledging that in a way, with grief, the things that are gone, still live on in that grief. so, she does what she can to honor those small parts that live on. she seeks out justice for her family, she tries to build a better future for herself and her son, she tries her best to lessen suffering of her people. she believes she will always grieve, and she just needs to find a way to live with it and let it motivate her instead of freeze her.

basil :   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything ?

plenty of things. social media/media in general. vulnerability. staying busy. herself (personality-wise, body image-wise, etc.).

to a lesser degree, a lot of her social appearances have this dichotomy to them, but that’s mainly because she’s for so long had to divorce her actual personal feelings and experiences from how she presents herself. everything feels so complex and she processes everything through multiple lenses. it’s survival, but it’s exhausting.