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myers-meadow · 1 year

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Otis B. Driftwood x fem OC: 🌺 A muse for him and him alone 💟

Title: A muse for him and him alone (chapter 1)

Warnings: (mild) gore, rape/non-con, dub-con, captivity, necrophilia, mentions of torture.

Summary: Even the Devil himself has art block sometimes... In the fresh group of victims that comes to the house, Otis discovers a muse. Inspiration and amusement drive him to keep her around, and both grow attached. With complex feelings keeping her alive, she must find a way to ensure her survival in the household, even if she gets in the way of what the family considers as their normal.

Word count: 2137

This is a very 'Meadow'-esque exploration of what it would be like to be kept by Otis as a victim and a muse. It follows a theatre-like akte structure, and is overall somewhat fragmented, as dairies can often be. In this fic I allow myself to be entirely myself and go as dark, as soft, and as intimate as I want. This will have multiple parts, a lot of it is planned out, but I will take my time and enjoy the process.

Please enjoy! Don't forget to let me know if you did! <3

Dividers by delishlydelightfuldividers

AKTE 0: “Ich will Frei sein – richtig Frei sein!“

The road was long, never-ending, the heat almost bearable with the windows down, stray hairs catching in my lipstick at the corners of my mouth, singing along to those songs about freedom on the cd we brought from home, complaining about the mediocre gas station food. Andra, Jip and me squished in the backseat; Christoff and Bram in the front, doing their best to ignore the off-key singing from behind them, focussing on road and directions. This trip was so unplanned it was ridiculous, yet each of us joined with that enthusiasm of feeling like the summer laid in wait at our feet. We slept in joined beds or when one of us couldn’t stand it anymore, they took the car, stayed up too late to see the stars, to see so far across the plains, to hear different birds from those we have at home. To feel the coldness of the night set in, the dew waiting on the grass when first light woke us since each motel room had those shitty thin curtains, and telling ourselves we’d nap in the car. I’m sure Bram had a friend of a friend he was meeting at our destination, and Christoff and Jip were mending their messy relationship, but I was there for Andra. I hoped that if we spent these two weeks together, that her friendly touches would grow to linger. That I’d know for sure that she’d taste like cigarettes and toothpaste, that I’d not have to ask Jip to rub sunscreen on my shoulders again, that the ride would be full of stolen touches and pretending we didn’t notice the others staring.

AKTE I: Disbelief

How did we go from singing along to Helge Schneider and daydreaming in the car to this- to being hunted for sport; Andra and me stripped almost nude, tied up and gagged in some disgusting room with faded bloodstains on the floor. It was the big man with the dark hair who took us, but it was a team effort. Bram, Christoff and Jip must be somewhere, taking by the others. There were so many of them – god my head hurt. It throbbed and my vision followed the pulse of my heart. The rag around my head to gag me was tied so poorly I managed it down with ease. Andra, next to me, already awake, was littered with bruises and small cuts, open skin on her knees and forearms from falling and crawling away, panicked eyes staring into mine. And before I could think of what to say, before I could even test the give of the rope binding my arms behind my back, the bear of a guy came back. It was a blur of screaming, dizziness, cursing, and being pulled by my hair as a sharp pain through it all.

“Fuck, the bitch broke my nose!” the bear roared, knocking me to the wall with enough force that the wall itself shook. The door slammed open, and the white haired guy entered. Otis. Why did I remember his name with my head splitting open from the pain? He was angry, but when he saw me already down on the ground (cowering), Andra still tied, fallen over on her chair, and the bear clutching his nose, he burst out laughing.

“Finally met one who bested ya? Serves you right for taking first pick, asshole.” And he easily dodged my attempts to swat at him like a cat and dragged me off by the scruff of my neck.

Otis’ room was in sharp contrast to the rest of the house and I didn’t dare say a word as he strapped me to the wall, and stepped back to admire me, sleazy grin on his face. As he retreated to put on a record, I looked around at the many crude drawings on the walls. On the ceiling too, and in the middle of it was written ‘god won’t help you now’ and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. It was a laugh like the ones where the roller coaster creeps closer to that tipping point, close to the free fall – but not knowing when it’d come. Maniacal and scary. Some upbeat blues rock perfected the absurdist reality of the situation.

Otis, reappearing, eyebrows raised, said: “You havin’ fun, missy?”

But of course I wasn’t, as much like roller coasters, this was no fun at all. “I didn’t even meant to kick him that hard,” I said, wheezing, trying to catch my breath from laughing. The knife in Otis’ hand glinted as he came closer. Death was a given, but I’d love to have another go at the fighting thing- The door swung open, a girl marched in, voice loud and high-pitched.

“They got away, Otis quick!”

“Goddamnit!” he cursed loudly, slamming the knife right next to my head, the sound of the splintering wood resounding in my head as he grabbed a rifle from behind the opened door. He complained all the while, and I leaned my head back against the wall, sighing with the relief of my demise pushed back.

AKTE II: Art show

Evening fell. When Otis returned, I’d almost fallen asleep. He let me, or made me, depending how you look at it, go to the bathroom. It was no more or less bad than anything else I could imagine to have my last moments on this earth be. There was a song stuck in my head and I hummed it quietly as I washed my hands for as long as Otis let me, before he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me back to his bedroom. Where the big bear of a man favoured rope, Otis preferred chains. Of course they were heavy, of course they were uncomfortable – but did any of that truly matter at the end of a life like this? I remembered family, and all the girls I had just a little too intense of a friendship with, and the many cats I’ve loved and cuddled. It would’ve been nice to have more time. To tell my parents of my travels, of what America is like, of how the people were all so nice.

Otis set me down on his desk chair, wrapping the chain around my chest and the back of the chair. I let my head fall back to watch him as he chatted idly, referencing conversations we shared the night before, when things were still normal, as he sharpened his knife or whatever it was that evil men do.

“You and your friends,” he said, pointing at me, “you sure are a lively bunch. We don’t get ones like you often. I don’t appreciate the noise as much, but you, you’re filling my head with thoughts. Do you have any idea how it is to be cooped up in here all day – no fresh ideas, no thoughts to share, nothing of value to ever come through these parts? But you’ve opened the doors of my mind.”

“So all those things you said about being an artist, about your art, that’s all bullshit?” I asked, moving my legs to try and swing the chair around to face him properly.

“A simple guy like me can’t be an artist? Is that it?” his tone was all venom. He wanted to scare me.

“Yeah, sure, you kill people, everyone can do that, but do you create? Can you create something from the ground up?”

He scoffed, but seemed amused as he leaned himself down to my level, his hands on my underarms – surprisingly warm, but I could practically taste the copper and cigarettes that clung to him. His eyes were even stranger in the low light than they were in the candle light of the dinner the night before.

“Oh, I’ll show you, mama.”

The ‘art’ was behind a curtain, and he pulled it back with a grand gesture, grinning widely. Going behind me, he pushed the chair until it was in front of it. It was a creature, unclear of what it was made of, but it resembled half snake, half human. A long forked tongue past horrifyingly realistic looking lips. The human half was endearingly ugly-looking.

“Wow,” I said, too absorbed in looking at it that the sound of my own voice startled me. I scooted the chair closer with awkward movements to see the detail better. Each scale was painstakingly carved and painted, the colour almost shimmery, just like how real snakeskin looks. “This is amazing. What is this made of? Is that clay?”

Otis stared at me, without words for a second.

“The detail is incredible,” I said, scooting myself another few centimetres closer. “The tongue is a very nice touch. It almost looks like a man captured by a witch, who cursed him after he lied to her. Like something out of a fairy tale. Cursed to reflect the crime committed.”

Otis just laughed but I paid him no mind, too busy staring at the complexity and high level of realism in the artwork.

“I can’t believe you created this – how long did it take you? Must’ve spent entire days on it to get all these details just right.” Admiration, mixed with a healthy measure of disbelief, dripped from my voice. “Each individual scale… You’d almost think it’s a real snake.”

Otis snorted.

I tried to reach out to feel the texture of the body, but was held back by the chains and cursed at the feeling.

“This should be in one of those big museums, selling for millions to those eclectic rich people in ugly suits. To think of a concept like this! The mythological meaning of a snake, and that with a sizable project like this. Do you make things like this regularly? God, it’s beautiful.”

In my head, thoughts swirled around, clashing in opposite directions. How could art this beautiful exist in an unassuming place, so far out in the middle of nowhere? Assuming he had no formal artistic education, and learned by doing, making it all the more impressive. Worse than that; how could a man so deeply evil have created something of such beauty with hands that have taken the lives of my friends?

All thoughts halted when he grabbed me by the neck and planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss on my lips.

AKTE III: Bad moon rising

Night fell, and my fear of death went down with the setting sun. Otis dropped a corpse down on his bed. Where did he even get her? She wasn’t anyone I knew. A small relief.

“It’s time for bed,” he announced with a vile grin. He tied the chain that bound me to the frame of his bed, leash short. I’d have to sleep on the floor. Somehow that wasn’t the worst that happened in the past 24 hours, so I laid my head on my folded arm and closed my eyes to rest. Once I laid still for a couple minutes, a harrowing tiredness set in – yet my thoughts raced. As soon as I felt my consciousness fade, the bed creaked. Grunts accompanied it and I looked up. It was dark, but without question, there was the shape of Otis, mounting the corpse. I stifled my gasp with my hand, eyes wide, lip curled with disgust. He noticed, and laughed, teeth bared in a grin like that of a wolf.

“Ain’t ever seen a guy make sweet love before?” he taunted. “Or would you rather join us? Sure you can, if ya ask nicely.”

The hardness of the cold floor was far preferable. The chains rattled as I shook my head wildly. Pressing my eyes closed, trying to shut it all out, to pretend it wasn’t happening. The noise was worse with my mind filling in the blanks, so I stared up at him again, with disbelieving eyes. How could he get worse, so, so much worse than he already was? What is wrong with this family? And then, at the back of my head: at least it wasn’t me. And, for her: at least she wouldn’t have to live with the trauma of it – although I will, for the both of us. His pleasured grunts and the creaking increased in speed and volume. No words in any language I know of could describe this.

With a final grunt, and then a deep sigh, he came. A cold arm that hit mine made me crawl as far away from the bed as the chain allowed me. Just in time, as Otis rolled the whole body off the bed, thudding down to face me, mangled and twisted with lifelessness. I screamed. Loud and shrill. The first time I did that day. I could barely hear his laughter over the blood rushing in my ears.

#otis b driftwood #otis driftwood x oc #otis driftwood #otis b driftwood x oc #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher community

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schrijverr · 9 months

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I Found Myself a Cheerleader 3

Chapter 3 out of 28

Bumped to the lowest step on the social ladder after his fight with Billy, Steve gets roped in with the cheer team. What starts as a favor to help them out when one member breaks her leg in turn for protection from the brunt of the bullying, sets the universe on a different path.

In this chapter, Eddie has gained a new interest in Steve, which culminates in a meeting in the woods. During their meeting, they connect in a way neither would have thought possible a few months before, though Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with Eddie’s attention. Meanwhile, his friendship with Chrissy and Lisa grows more.

On AO3.

Ships: eventual steddie & buckingham.

Warnings: child abuse, eating disorder, period typical homophobia, f-slur, period typical sexism

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: The Meeting

It’s been three weeks since the competition and nothing much has changed since Steve officially became a cheerleader.

People are still dicks to him from time to time and all sorts of rumors fly around the halls, but it’s mostly old news. Anyone who doesn’t have a personal vendetta against him has said all they need to say about it to his face and have found new things to talk about.

His parents call that they are extending their business trip into a mini vacation to Paris. Steve honestly doesn’t care and is just relieved that they won’t hear about this yet. He’s been saving most of his allowance in cash in his car, which is in his name. Just in case.

When they call, he twists the truth a bit. His father asks if he is still being dramatic or if he has gotten over his little spat and rejoined basketball.

Steve thinks nearly getting beaten to death is more than a little spat, but he doesn’t tell his father that, instead he answers: “Last Thursday coach showed us what suicide laps were,” which is true and earns him a proud chuckle from his father.

The interaction makes him a little sick.

But training is fun. They’re working on new stunts with Steve’s strength, which he’s also been building in his own time. The smallest flyer is Chrissy, so they’ve been working together, which is a blast.

He has discovered she will accept fruits if offered, so he brings an extra apple to school to give to her. For his own peace of mind. He’s planning to talk about it at some point, but for now this is all he can do. She always looks so happy when they’re stunting, he doesn’t want to take that from her and they don’t hang out outside of school much. She has a strict mom.

It has also been getting warmer, so part of the cheer squad will sit outside. Steve mostly just checks where Chrissy and Lisa have decided to sit and joins them.

Steve is also fully part of all the conversations. They all have lost shame or pretenses around them when it became clear he wasn’t making a move on them. So, now Steve knows about all their crushes and period struggles as well as things about shaving and other maintenance. He doesn’t know how they keep it up.

After a bit, he is also asked about his crush. It’s asked by Heather, whose curiosity is immediately joined by others. Without his permission Eddie comes to mind.

Ever since Steve joined the cheerleaders, he has been noticing Eddie looking at him differently than before. It is no longer contempt or some way of looking down at him and what he stood for. Now Steve is studied like he is some sort of puzzle. Something Eddie wants to solve.

Steve quite likes being at the other end of that look.

However, Steve can’t tell any of the cheerleaders that. They’ve been pretty cool about him joining, which is already nice. But he can’t imagine them wanting him around if they knew. They know what others say about him, but always comfort him with the fact that they don’t believe those rumors, that they don’t think he’s gay.

So instead he shrugs: “I’m still a bit hung up on Nancy, but she dumped me, so that’s not going to happen.”

“You’re not going after her?” Chrissy asks, confused.

“I mean, no,” Steve replies, also confused. “She dumped me and left me for another. She was quite clear about her feelings on the matter. Why would I try and force myself back in her life?”

“It’s just-” Chrissy shrugs helplessly.

“Most guys don’t really let a no stop them,” Sofia says. “They keep asking you out anyway.”

Okay, another thing where Steve’s attempt to come across as a straight boy has failed. At this point it’s surprising that no one has caught on yet that he is indeed the faggot they make him out to be. He is terrible at faking.

“That sounds rude,” Steve says, because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“It is,” Lisa tells him. “But that doesn’t stop them.”

“You are such a gentleman,” Heather sighs dreamily. “I don’t know why my brain decided to like Charles of all people.”

“Because you have terrible taste,” Mary tells her, which earns a hard shove as some of the other girls shriek with laughter.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Heather exclaims. “You liked Brad!”

“And I saw the error of my ways,” Mary says as she tries to get away from the new attack that is inbound.

Steve laughs at them, before it dies down and he turns to Sofia. Sofia has been saving his ass in their shared study hall. Steve is sure that if it weren’t for her, he’d be failing his senior year right now. Maybe junior year if Nancy hadn’t carried him through that.

However, no matter how much Steve loves his friends and no matter how much it has all calmed down. Lunch period can still make him feel like a zoo exhibit. And he can’t deal with that every day.

So, he tells Chrissy, who is walking with him to lunch that he’s gonna find a quiet spot in the woods and to go ahead without him.

“Are you sure, Stevie?” she asks.

“Yeah, Chris,” he smiles. “Just not in the mood for people today.”

“I get that,” Chrissy nods. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she grins.

Faux-affronted, he says: “I never do anything stupid.”

“And don’t lie,” she yells as she skips away and Steve has to laugh at her antics. She’s a bit like the little sister he has always wanted.

With a shake of his head, he makes his way into the forest, away from most of the school population. He makes sure no one sees him slip away. The last thing he needs is getting cornered alone in the forest with guys, who have any ideas about him.

He finds an abandoned picnic table somewhere and sits down. It’s nice to be alone in nature for a bit, far better than being alone at home. This is more peaceful. He’s less scared something will come through the walls or from the pool to drag him away.

The forest reminds him of Dustin and their track through the woods looking for Dart. The little guy is a fucking idiot for ever taking it in, but Steve thinks it’s endearing anyway.

Steve is still thinking of Dustin and the rest of the little shits when he hears someone walking up to him from behind. He sighs, not wanting to deal with this and in a monotone voice he says: “No, I am not stealing your girlfriend and I’m not turning her gay either, that’s not even how that works,” without even bothering to turn around.

An unfamiliar chuckle makes him turn around and there Eddie is, amused eyes, as he asks: “Do people really think that?”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” Steve tries to find his footing under the sparkling chocolate colored eyes. God, they’re so pretty. To distract from his crush, he says: “You’d be surprised, man.”

Man, that is a not gay thing to say right? Fuck, Steve hasn’t been trying for a while now. He has no clue how to act right now.

“I’m honestly not,” Eddie replies with a smile.

Holy fuck, he has dimples, this is so unfair. Eddie looks like he doesn’t even brush his hair, yet he is effortlessly handsome and Steve hasn’t felt like this around anyone in a while. All he manages to say is: “No?”

“Naahhh, man,” Eddie drawls as he plops down across from Steve. “I’ve heard stupider shit. Pretty sure some of the basketball team thinks I have secret powers or something. If I had powers, they’d all be frogs.”

Steve snorts at the image and asks: “Would you let frog Billy keep his mullet?”

Eddie looks shocked at the contribution, before he cracks up. His laugh is deep and hearty, Steve wants to listen to it forever. Eddie says: “Sure, Billy can keep his mullet. That’s hilarious.”

The compliment makes Steve glow with pride. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing and he just hopes that Eddie doesn’t notice as a comfortable silence falls over them. Steve uses it to study Eddie, who is fiddling with ringed hands, seemingly unable to sit still.

“So, what are you doing out there?” Eddie asks after a few moments. He seemingly isn’t the kind that deals with silence well.

A bit embarrassed, Steve shrugs and answers: “Kind of done with people today. Needed a second to myself, I guess.”

“Ah, sorry,” Eddie says with an apologetic wince. “With that first reaction to my, albeit quite lovely, presence, I should have guessed you wanted to be alone. I can go.”

He makes a move to leave and before he can think of it, Steve exclaims: “No!”

“No?” Eddie asks, looking up from behind those bangs in a way that should be illegal. Like how are those eyes real?

Steve blushes and looks away. “I mean, you can. I- I don’t really mind you being here. It’s not like you have a girl to accuse me of stealing.”

At that Eddie lets out another of those laughs Steve has come to adore in a short time. Eddie shakes his head as he grins: “That I do not.” Then he leans his chin on his hand and twirls a strand of hair as he asks: “And what about the other thing?”

“Huh?”

“You’re also not afraid I’m here to beat you up for being gay? Or trying to turn me gay by being near you?” Eddie asks. “I mean, that’s what they’re saying.”

“Oh,” Steve says, before shrugging. “I guess you don’t seem to be the type to believe those things. Plus, no offense, dude, but I’m pretty sure I can beat you in a fight.”

The moment he says it, he wants to hit himself. Very smooth, Harrington, I’m sure he loved you reminding him how you can beat him up, you know, something that has happened to him with both Billy and Tommy, your former teammates.

However, Eddie keeps surprising him, he only quirks a brow, before grinning. “None taken, I suppose. It’s not like it’s a lie.”

“Sorry,” Steve says anyway.

“It’s alright, it’s not like I believe it,” Eddie tells him. “I’ve just been trying to figure you out, if I’m honest.”

“You have?” Steve asks, cursing himself for how breathless he sounds. But he can’t help it, it’s like he’s being pinned by those eyes, drawn in by those dimples and moving hands.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, meeting his eyes again. “I am just curious why you haven’t gotten angry about those rumors yet. You know, the ones about you being a queer?”

Steve can’t look away, even though he wants to. The word he slung at Jonathan once doesn’t hurt as much when Eddie says it. There is something comforting about him, that makes Steve open up. He knows it’s probably the pathetic crush he has on the guy, but he can’t help, but shrug: “I mean, it’s not like anyone is going to change their mind if I do. It doesn’t matter.”

“That is very much true,” Eddie agrees, opening his hands in an acquiescing manner. “But,” he goes on. “I would’ve thought your masculine jockiness wouldn't stand for such rumors going around. So, why aren’t you denying it? It’s not like those rumors are true.”

And Steve knows that Eddie is right. If such rumors about him went around a few years ago, he would have been on a war path, would have been denying them left and right, preferably as loudly as he could.

However, he hasn’t been able to bring himself. Just wants to hide away instead and hope they’ll blow over. He’s so tired of lying, of hiding, even if he knows he must. But a part of him hoped no one would notice it. That no one would question it.

Yet here Eddie is, questioning it and Steve is drawing a blank. He knows what he should say, but it’s not coming out and by now the moment has been dragging on for long enough that Eddie starts to put together why.

“Unless-” Eddie starts, eyes wide as if he can’t believe it. “Unless they are true.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Steve whispers, preparing to run should Eddie make a move in his direction that he doesn’t like.

He can’t believe this is where his day has gone.

“Shit, man,” Eddie whistles. “Course not. I didn’t know you were family.”

It takes a moment, before the euphemism lands. Steve knows that Eddie has similar rumors following him, but the guy never confirmed them. A smart move. Yet here he is admitting it Steve, extending a hand of solidarity.

Steve allows a small smile to grace his face and he does some jazz hands. “Surprise.”

Eddie laughs at the action and agrees: “It’s certainly is. I never would have guessed. You’re good, man.”

“Not that good I’ve discovered,” Steve tells him.

“No?” Eddie asks.

“No, man, it’s crazy,” Steve says. “I’ve been told twice by the other girls that it’s nice that I look at their eyes instead of their tits and they’re surprised when I listened to Nancy’s no. I didn’t even know others did that.”

“Well, those others suck,” Eddie informs him with a snort. “Straight or not, they shouldn’t have been doing that either.”

“I know right, it’s so rude,” Steve exclaims, glad he can finally fully share this with someone.

“Yeah, Harrington, it is rude,” Eddie nods with amusement.

They fall into silence again, this one more comfortable. Steve feels giddy with feelings. Not only did he have a normal conversation with Eddie, his crush Eddie, who doesn’t hate him apparently. A huge win in Steve’s book. He also told someone he’s gay and the world didn’t end.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever told, you know,” Steve breaks the quiet after a minute or so of peaceful silence.

“Shitttt, dude,” Eddie says. “I kind of feel honored now.”

“Don’t get an ego, Munson,” Steve jokes.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Eddie grins.

Steve knows that Eddie isn’t that kind of person, but still he checks again: “You’re truly not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Of course not,” Eddie promises seriously. “I’m not an asshole, you know.”

“I do, sorry,” Steve says, anxiously. “Just had to make sure. I won’t either, by the way.”

“Good to know,” Eddie tells him, with a satisfied nod.

Eddie straightens his rings again, before fiddling with them. The movements are mesmerizing and Steve focuses on the way Eddie’s hands move. A few seconds later, Eddie drums on the table for a bit.

From their shared classes Steve knows that Eddie is a fidgety person, but he has never been so close to it. He thinks it’s endearing, but he won’t admit that ever.

“This is crazy,” Eddie breaks the silence again. “I mean, I came out here expecting you to get mad at me for all my questions before chasing me out the woods, but instead I find out that King Steve of all people is one of us.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve snaps.

“What?”

“King Steve. I hate that guy, don’t call me that,” he explains.

“Sure,” Eddie agrees easily. “Now that I met you properly, he doesn’t seem much like you anyways, Harrington.”

“Steve is fine too, you know,” Steve offers casually, ignoring how his heart is beating in his throat as he awaits Eddie’s reaction.

“Alright, Steve it is,” Eddie smiles, showing off those dimples. He chuckles to himself: “I can’t believe I’m on first name basis with the heartthrob of the school. Are you sure it’s not illegal for me to call you Steve?”

“No, man, go nuts,” Steve laughs. “Besides, it’s not like people will care. I don’t know if you noticed, but my social standing has kind of tanked these past few months.”

“Welcome to life on the flip side, so difficult for you,” Eddie replies with a mock bow, which is only half successful, since he’s seated.

“I kind of deserved that,” Steve gives in.

“Yeah, kind of,” Eddie agrees. Before he moves on: “But that’s in the past, we all have our ways of hiding. What I’m wondering is why you decided to give up that safety for cheerleading. Doesn’t seem smart.”

“What is this? Some sort of interrogation?” Steve asks. He only half means it. Eddie is easy to talk to and he’s nice enough, but a small paranoid part of his brain can’t help but wonder why Eddie would want to know. He must want something, they all do, he just can’t figure out what.

“Sorry, just curious, I guess,” Eddie replies with a shrug, like he truly couldn't care less about the answer. “My theory was trying to get in their pants, but that has clearly been proven false.”

“I just like it,” Steve shrugs, before moodily adding: “Apparently that is a crime now.”

“Ahw, don’t pull a pouty face, Stevie,” Eddie teases. “Us mortals can’t handle those sad eyes, you can’t pull out those weapons.”

Steve doesn’t really think his expression is anything special, but the words from Eddie’s mouth make him blush anyway. What should be illegal is the way Eddie lets words roll of his tongue, so smooth and deep. His Stevie is different from when Chrissy says it.

Eddie looks at him with an expression he can’t place. Under his eyes, the blush just increases and Steve starts to feel awkward. So, he gets up and says: “Good talk. See you around, Eddie.” Then he hurries away.

He doesn’t really want to go, quite the opposite in fact. He likes having Eddie’s attention on him, but he has already told Eddie too much. And Eddie was teasing him. He doesn’t know why Eddie would want to know him and until he knows why, it’s safer to stay away. So, he has to get out.

Lisa is waiting for him near the door, so they can walk to their next class together. She frowns when she sees him and asks: “You okay? Chrissy mentioned you wanting to be alone for a bit.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answers, plastering on a reassuring smile. “Just thought I was going to be late, you know. Hard to hear the bell out there.

Steve is quite sure Lisa doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t push either. He is very grateful for that as they make their way into the school.

At practice they’re working on having Chrissy stepping from a foot on each hand to leaning with one foot on two hands. They can already get her up there smoothly, but she still wobbles too much when she steps over as does Steve. They fail more often than they succeed.

Both of them are getting frustrated with the stunt. Chrissy is similar to Steve in that she is a perfectionist and will train until she has it. So when training ends, coach Miller has to personally tell them to stop.

They pull a similar face, but it’s Chrissy who vocalizes what both are thinking. “We’re so close to getting it. Give us half an hour. I’m sure we can do it.”

“No,” coach Miller says. “Look I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it has to be safe too. Everyone is tired, I won’t let you break your leg, because you’re stubborn. You two can try again Monday, you’ll get it then.”

Neither of them are happy to hear that, but they don’t protests further. Coach has last call, they know they should respect that.

Still, the moment coach Miller walks away, Steve complains: “This sucks. Those last three went so good too.”

“I know,” Chrissy huffs as she crosses her arms.

“What are you two on about now?” Lisa asks, sounding amused. They’ve become quite the trio and she recognizes the two stubborn faces of her friends.

“Coach Miller won’t let us practice the stunt more,” Chrissy pouts.

“It’s like all her speeches about winning are suddenly not important anymore,” Steve adds. “Just because she’s getting old doesn’t mean we’re already tired.”

Lisa sighs and says: “We’ve been training for two hours, I’m sure you guys are tired. Hell, I am tired. You can use the rest. Stop moping.”

Now that he has stopped, Steve does feel pretty tired, but he’s not admitting it to Lisa. Instead he throws his hands up as if it’s a hardship and says: “Whatever. I’ll stop. But by Monday we’ll have to start from scratch again and I will say that I told you so.”

“Exactly,” Chrissy agrees. She has come to the same conclusion as Steve and is equally unwilling to give in.

“God, you two can be so stubborn together,” Lisa laughs softly. “Why don’t we meet up tomorrow and you two can practice your stunt to your heart’s content. I’ll be back spotter, no problem.”

“That’s an amazing idea!” Chrissy exclaims, before for face falls. “But I don’t think my mom will let me meet up with a boy like that. She’s super protective over my virtue. And I’m terrible at lying to her. She always knows.”

The excitement that welled up in Steve immediately dies down again. If Chrissy isn’t allowed to come, they can kiss the plans goodbye.

“Then don’t lie,” Lisa shrugs.

“Didn’t you listen? She’ll say no,” Chrissy says.

“No, I mean, just tell her you’re going to practice with some people from the cheer squad,” Lisa elaborates. “That’s not a lie.”

“You’re a little snake, you know that, Lisa?” Steve laughs as a smirk creeps onto Chrissy’s face at the loophole.

“That can work!” Chrissy. “Where are we going to meet up?”

“I mean, I have a pretty big yard,” Steve offers. “Grass is good cushioning.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lisa says. “Pick you up at 10:00, Chrissy?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you if something comes up,” Chrissy smiles.

With that planned, they go off to their dressing room as Steve makes his way to his car. It has been a while since he had visitors. He should clean up a bit.

As he throws out the trash and does the dishes that have piled up, his mind drifts over to lunch period and the meeting he’s been trying to put out of his mind. It is strange that he and Eddie know something so intimate about each other now. That they share something.

He remembers those cute dimples and kind eyes, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he does. But he can’t forget the questions Eddie asked.

It was just a friendly conversation, but he kept revealing all sorts of things about himself. And he knows practically nothing about Eddie. He doesn’t know why the guy is suddenly interested in interrogating him, when before now he hasn’t show any interest in even being friendly with Steve (much to his dismay).

The whole thing is confusing.

Eddie must have some sort of agenda, but he looked pretty genuine when promising he wouldn't tell anyone. Fuck, Steve hopes he hasn’t misplaced his trust in Eddie. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if everyone knew the rumors are true. His life would be over.

Maybe Eddie was just curious, Steve thinks. He did mention wanting to figure Steve out. Maybe he’s just rumor hungry like all the others out there, wanting to know about why King Steve gave up his crown, started hanging around middle schoolers, quit the basketball team and became a cheerleader.

It was probably a dare from his friends to try and figure out what had made Steve sink all the way to the bottom. Eddie probably told them how pathetic Steve is and they all had a laugh at him. Steve knows he deserves it, but that doesn’t stop the hurt that is clogging up his chest.

He should have walked away when Eddie got there. He knows that there is nothing that will happen between them, he shouldn’t get close to the guy. It will only end in heartbreak. Better to snuff this crush out, before it can start to burn. He is not talking to Eddie again.

Despite his determination, a dull ache follows him all evening, hanging around him as he brushes his teeth and gets into bed.

That night is filled with nightmares. He gets up at 5:00 AM and decides to go for a jog. He has a standard route that goes by all the kids. Seeing everything peaceful and quiet helps him more than the running does.

He showers when he gets home and doesn’t attempt to crawl back into bed. Instead he drinks some coffee and promptly throws it up. He decides against breakfast and tries to distract himself with school work until 10:00 rolls around.

Fifteen minutes after ten, the bell rings. Steve has been waiting for this and is at the door in seconds, smiling at the two girls on his front step. “Hello, ladies,” he greets, a momentary flashback of Barb and Nancy goes through his mind and he blanches a bit, having to swallow against the bile that threatens to rise up.

“You okay?” Chrissy asks with a frown, picking up on the small shift in demeanor.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Steve smiles, not wanting them to worry. Chrissy gives him a look, but then lets it go as she follows Lisa inside.

He offers them something to drink, which they gladly take. Now it’s Lisa’s time to frown and ask: “Are you not thirsty?”

Steve thinks of the coffee he threw up and shakes his head. “Feeling a little queasy, honestly. It’s fine, I’ll drink something later.”

“No, drink something now,” Lisa says. It isn’t often that she decides to speak up, so Steve knows she’s serious. “You need to stay hydrated, especially if you want to exercise.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, Lisa, I promise,” Steve protests. “Just not in the mood today.”

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” Lisa asks sharply, ignoring what he has just said.

“I mean-” Steve fails to come up with an excuse.

“Eat something. Now. Or I’m bringing Chrissy home again,” Lisa orders. “I am not joking here, Steve. It’s literally about the safety of you and Chrissy. Everyone needs to be in top shape, so no one breaks their neck on accident.”

Steve catches Chrissy’s guilty look. With what he knows of her, the chance is that she hasn’t eaten yet either. He knows it’s unhealthy. He can force himself to eat something, if that means Chrissy eats something too.

So, he gives in, though he says: “Fine, but I hate eating alone, if I fix you two a bowl of yogurt will you eat with me?”

“Of course,” Lisa immediately agrees, glad that he’s giving in. “Right, Chris?”

“Yeah, sure,” Chrissy agrees too, but with a tight smile.

Steve feels a little bad about it and vows to talk to her about it, but he doesn’t want to pull attention to it with Lisa there. Not when they’re so close with the stunt that they’re both so excited about. It is just hard to start the talk. He doesn’t know how.

The three of them eat their yogurt. It’s a quiet affair and Steve has to struggle to get down ever bite, much like Chrissy is struggling. Both of them manage, however, under Lisa’s watchful eyes. Only when Steve’s bowl is empty do they go outside.

Despite the hiccup at the start, the day is quite fun. They practice for a few hours and manage to do the new stunt consistently after a while.

It’s a good day, very fun.

At around one o’clock four bikes and a skate board pull up to his house. They’re taking a short break on the front lawn, so Steve sees them coming. He waves at them as most of the kids let their bikes fall, before walking onto the lawn.

“What the hell, dude?” Dustin is calling out, without being close.

“Oi, language, you’re like ten,” Steve calls back, not really minding it, but also not wanting their parents to think he’s a bad influence.

“I’m thirteen,” Dustin protests indignantly.

“You didn’t answer the phone or radio,” Lucas explains when it becomes clear Dustin isn’t going to.

“We were worried,” Will adds softly.

“Sorry, man,” Steve says, before gesturing to Lisa and Chrissy. “I have visitors. We were outside. I must have not heard. I’m fine.”

“Told you,” Mike rolls his eyes, getting shut up by a slap from Max.

“You’re bailing on us for two girls,” Dustin pouts, before realizing how that sounds and saying: “No offense, I’m sure you’re very nice.” Then he turns to Steve and asks: “Isn’t that against the boy code or something?”

“I’m sure it isn’t like that,” Will tries defending Steve, though he also looks a little confused.

“It isn’t like that, no,” Steve agrees. “We’re practicing this new stunt. Coach forced us to stop yesterday, but we were so close. Besides, you never call the day before. This says more about your planning skills than my bro code, Henderson. Maybe work on that first. I’m not at your beck and call, dude.”

“But you always drive us around on the weekend,” Dustin pouts.

“You obviously lived,” Steve rolls his eyes, nodding towards the bikes. “Now stop being rude and introduce yourselves. This is Chrissy, that’s Lisa.”

The two girls wave and the boys seem to realize their own rudeness as they introduce themselves, eyes falling out their skulls when the two are friendly to them, instead of dismissing them like many older teens tend to do.

Even Max can’t fully hide her piqued interest under her usual aloof mask. She is also the one, who asks: “What kind of stunts were you guys doing?”

“Well, Steve lifts me in the air and then I stand on one foot,” Chrissy explains. “We’re still working on basics, but when we have this down, we can start working on flips down according to coach Miller. It’s pretty cool.”

“You’re a cheerleader,” Max realizes, her eyes flick to Steve and he can see the hatred Billy spat around her clicking in place. “Steve, you’re a cheerleader?”

“Really?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, trying to look like he doesn’t care what they think. “It’s quite fun.”

“But that’s for girls,” Mike says.

“It really isn’t, mini Wheeler,” Steve tells him. “Don’t let Nancy hear you say that, or you’ll get a lecture.”

“Ugh, I hate it when she does that,” Mike complains.

“Then don’t be a little shit,” Steve shoots back, placing his hands on his hips.

“Is it hard?” Lucas asks, changing the topic, much to Steve’s relief.

“Harder than it looks, but it’s also fun,” Steve tells Lucas. “It requires a lot of muscle and balance to pull of. I mean, I’m quite literally throwing Chris here in the air.”

“It’s very fun,” Chrissy adds on. “Stevie makes me fly.”

Steve sees Max word “fly” to herself, eyes a bit in awe. With her skateboard, Steve thinks she must like the idea of the riskiness that cheerleading brings. However, he pretends to not see, she will be embarrassed if he does.

“That’s very cool,” Dustin tells them excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s very cool,” Mike rolls his eyes. “Can we go now? Hopper said we were allowed to sleep over at the cabin. That’s way more fun that this.”

Steve can see Will wilt a little under the words, the quiet kid having kept to the background. He is sadly not a majority, since the others start to say goodbye to Steve and the girls, before going back to their bikes.

He gives him an encouraging smile, glad when Will manages to return it, before turning to follow his friends.

As they disappear out of sight again, Chrissy comments: “Cute kids.”

“Lies and slander,” Steve laughs. “They’re all the most annoying people I have ever met. The best kids, sure, but annoying nonetheless.”

“They could use some manners,” Lisa agrees, “but they’re quite funny.”

“You shouldn’t be mean to kids,” Chrissy informs them.

Lisa and Steve share a knowing look, before turning back to Chrissy again. Steve is the one that says what they both think. “Chris, you are still a kid. What opinion do you have.”

“You two are so rude,” she tells them, though she’s smiling anyway. “You’re only two years older than me.”

“Those two years feel like eons,” Lisa tells her. “You’ll understand when you’re our age, youngling.”

“Who is annoying now?” Chrissy says, before getting up. “Come one, lets get to practicing. You two are more bearable when you’re focusing on not collapsing under your old age.”

“Who’s rude now?” Steve chirps, but follows her anyway. He appreciates that neither of them take his bitchy comments seriously and that they give back just as well. It’s fun to toss insults back and forth.

Sadly they can’t stay forever. All of them have homework and Chrissy’s mom wants her home for dinner. So, they have to say goodbye at some point.

With both of them gone, the house feels more empty again. Neither of them had commented on Steve’s parents being gone, but no one ever did. Big house and no parents had been his tagline throughout junior year. It was kind of a known unspoken thing. He’s grateful for it too, he doesn’t mind not having to explain.

Still, that doesn’t make it any more fun to cook dinner for one and to eat it at the empty dinner table.

All alone thoughts he has been ignoring so well creep back in. Not only do the shadows start to morph into creatures that should have never existed, he is also haunted by the conversation he had with Eddie.

No matter how much he tries not to think about it, he can’t help but go over it with great care to try and figure out what it meant. To see if he can figure out what Eddie wanted from him. And to cringe at all the stupid shit he said.

Fuck, he’s just so screwed.

A/N:

I love how this a Steddie fic, but Eddie’s first spoken line is like 14k words in

Spoiler, Eddie wants to know stuff about Steve, because he likes him, Steve is just a bit of an oblivious idiot <3

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ariel-seagull-wings · 10 months

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LAZY THUESDAY REVIEW: GHOSTBUSTERS - ANSWER THE CALL (2016)

@thealmightyemprex @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @amalthea9 @angelixgutz @professorlehnsherr-almashy @scarletblumburtonofeastlondon

Quantum physicist Erin Gilbert (Wiig) discovers that her estranged friend and former partner Abby Yates (McCarthy) has republished a book the two wrote expressing their belief in ghosts.

Fearing that the book will destroy her chances of achieving tenure at Columbia University, Gilbert attempts to persuade Yates to take the book down from the Internet, only to become roped into an investigation into a supposedly haunted mansion conducted by Yates and her partner, eccentric engineer Jillian Holtzmann (McKinnon).

When the investigation uncovers an actual, genuine haunting, the three — after being fired from their respective academic institutions — decide to investigate the increase in paranormal activity and conclusively prove the existence of ghosts. After MTA worker Patty Tolan (Jones) approaches them following a haunting at a subway station, the four women discover a terrible plot threatening all of New York, and join forces as the Ghostbusters to save the day...

This movie is a comedy. There are some moments for calm breathing, but overall it throws joke after joke after joke. Some are visual based, some are phisical, some are dialogue based, and there is a touch of gross out jokes like the characters getting slimed and a fart joke.

Fortunally those of the gross out kind are passed faster compared to other movies that use gross out humor, so it really is funny without overstaying its welcome.

Some jokes that are based on dialogue can feel more slow and boring, but they don’t get to harm the movie as a whole.

The strongest points are the four main characters and how they interact with each other: Erin Gilbert is a scientist who became fascinated with ghosts after being haunted as a child. After years without having proven the existence of ghosts, she became obsessed with appearing as sane as possible. She provides the narrative and character arc about stoping with the obsession of appearing sane and embracing what makes you crazy, because at the end, only appearing to be alright doesn’t make actual problems, like the ghosts in universe of the movie, and eventually you will find other people who are as crazy as you and embrace you as part of the family.

Abby Yates is Erin’s friend from high school who kept doing the research to prove the existence of ghosts during the time that Erin was in denial. When Erin comes to demand the take down of their book about the Paranormal from the Internet, initially Abby acts hostile because she felt abandoned by Erin despite Abby being the only person who believed and supported during the time that she was bullied in high school.

Is trough their work in creating the machinery to capture the ghosts and study them that slowly the two rekindle their friendship. This way, the salvation of New York City paralells the story of this two saving their previously broken friendship.

Jillian Holtzman is the engineer in charge of all the equipment that the team uses. She gleefully calls herself crazy and is enthusiastic about everything, but there is no doubt she knows her stuff. Some of Holtzmann's quirkiness tips over the line into outright callous disregard for how her actions will affect other people, such as at the concert when she grabs a guitar from a band member to smash it and then nonchalantly acknowledges that she cannot replace it.

For much of the movie, Holtzmann seems quite cocky, carefree and light-hearted, unfazed by much of what's happening and prone to trolling and teasing many of the people around her. Until a scene in the bar towards the end, when she eagerly stands up to deliver a toast to the other Ghostbusters — and, much to their surprise, unexpectedly stammers out an awkward but sincere and heartfelt tribute to her new friends and how much they mean to her while apparently on the verge of tears, suggesting that much of her self-assured cockiness is a front masking a more lonely, insecure, and vulnerable person than previously suspected.

Patty Tolan is a subway operator and New York history buff who joins the team after finding a ghost on her shift. When we first meet her, she's cheerfully greeting the passerby in the subway, taking it in stride that nobody is paying attention to her. When a strange approaches her with an ominous rant about the forthcoming apocalypse, she's clearly a little bewildered but nonetheless manages to take it in her stride. And during her first proper interaction with the team, who initially underestimates her for not being a professional scientist like them, she displays a vast knowledge of New York history, and the car from her uncles Funerary House.

We follow the quartet as they slowly build the business above a small chinese restaurant because the Firehouse they wanted was too expensive for their pockets, using stolen equipment from Abby and Jillian’s previous job to build their machinery, test their weaponry, hire a stupid, yet handsome secretary named Kevin, try to think of a logo and Patty provides the overalls for them to work without making their everyday clothes dirty with slime.

During their hunt for ghosts, wich call the attention of the general public, they have to deal with the Mayor, who aproaches problems by trying to dismissing them, and this includes calling the Ghostbusters frauds because he thinks this will avoid mass hysteria that could harm his public image.

Erin even calls him out by comparing him to the Mayor in the movie Jaws.

Then comes the villain: hotel cleaner Rowan. His motivation is pretty simple, he thinks that people didn’t recognized his inteligence, so he reacts by becoming vengefull, and taking ideas from the book written by Erin and Abby, Ghosts of Our Past, he works in the building of a machine that will the open the portal between the World of the Dead and the Human World, releasing what he calls the Fourth Cataclysm to punish humanity.

After killing himself, treaking the protagonists to think they saved the day easily, he becomes a ghost, posessing first the body of Abby and later of the Secretary Kevin, to activate the machine that will open the portal and later taking the form of a monstrous version of the Ghostbusters logo (who, in a nice touch, starts as 2-D animation in the small, cute version, to later turn CGI when becoming giant and grotesque).

These are very creative powers, forms and way to conduct an evil plan, and I’m glad to have a movie villain who is just an entitled jerk without going too deepy into his past and instead make him interesting by focusing on how he does things, rather than why he does things.

The villain can be simple, while the complexity and multiple dimensions is focused in the protagonists.

After the original 1984 movie, this has become my favorite Ghostbusters movie. The aesthetics are bright and colorfull, the design and animation of the ghosts, with the exception of a few nods to the original movie, is varied and interesting to look at, and the characters few very interesting that you want to follow more of their adventures and know about them more, specially with the post credits scene that shows the growth of their business.

I had a lot of fun watching it, and highly recomend it.

#ghostbusters answer the call #ghostbusters 2016 #ghostbusters

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myriadium · 1 year

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Can you tell us more about this au you mentioned?

I WOULD BE HAPPY TO!!! i've always been obsessed with bakugan since literally the single digits (i'm talking kindergarten bro) and i always end up reliving that hyperfixation every year. Naturally, the characters grew up with me, and so i've made a new storyline for who are essentially new characters.

so. mikhail gehabich, a elusive physicist and scientist in russia start getting readings of tears between Earth and a whole new dimension. at the same time, marucho at the fresh age of 14 also discover this, and the two of them get in touch to discuss this strange phenomenon. in an attempt to collect this strange energy emanating from the tears and study it, marucho created a computer system to visualize it. to both nerds' surprise, it turns out that the power was "packed with incredible power from another world" and marucho realizes that the complexity of the energy lends itself well to a card battling anime.

mikhail, who usually has a hard time finding funding or support for his esoteric findings, was suddenly able to study this groundbreaking discovery of a whole 'nother dimension with what seems like real, sentient (?) creatures. he doesn't give a shit about gamers lmao. as such, the two of them work together to decipher and understand the rules of this energy. after several months of work, marucho is ready to release a closed beta. Since it's basically a passion project, he feels weird asking his parents for advertising, so most of the preliminary testing were employees of the marukura conglomerate. afterwards, marucho extended an invitation to the general public as well. for some reason, the dimensional strain is strongest in [SOME RANDOM CITY] in japan, and...arizona? in the depths of the grand canyon? also other places. idk haven't thought about that yet.

since marucho was super sheltered, he posted in kinda obscure game forums to get the word out but lucky him! dan kuso is also a gamer nerd and he frequents those communities often. roping shun with him, the two of them excitedly learn the strategies and techniques in this well fleshed out game (strangely intricate, there's no way a 15 year old planned this all out, right?). Other japanese people also join in, but surprisingly, marucho allows an american (julie, who was on super niche sites to practice jp) to join the server and they also bond.

there are more people in the beta, of course, but shun is the one who really understood the way the game was meant to be played, and by the time marucho asked his parents for support in an international release (which they happily provided him because they see him coming out of his shell), shun climbs the leaderboards startlingly fast and stays there. after a couple months though, he seems to have quit and starts losing places. weird.

also i'm thinking that to play the game you would need a gate card, which converts the vestroian energy around them into a pocket dimension for them to duke it out, and a battle watch, all provided by the marukura conglomerate. yay, capitalism. (bakugan gacha?! /j)

meanwhile, the dimensional energies seem to be getting stronger, and the rips seem to be getting bigger. the day of international release, mikhail goes radio silent. he's disappeared. enter: alice. she obviously notices this and, knowing that he's been studying this mysterious energy with some guy in japan, flies in to see if marucho has any idea what happened to him. coincidentally, that is when masquerade enters japanese servers. weird!

that's the basic premise of the story. i got a lot of small detailed planned out, like how alice's first few days in japan is like, how she meets runo who introduces her to the rest of the team blah blah

i'm actually really happy someone asked this, because i kinda had this thing festering in my head for almost a year now, and i have yet to write any of it down. thinking about writing about it is much more fun than actually writing about it T^T

#bakugan #bakugan worldbuilding

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philliamwrites · 2 years

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SWYAATL 11: The Forest of Hands and Teeth (pt.2)

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem! Reader

Warnings: description of a decomposing body

Summary: “If anything,” Eren says, and you can hear Armin’s quiet plea “Please stop talking, Eren,” because he knows Eren better than he himself, and if there is a chance to resolve the conflict without it blowing up, Armin will always throw himself in as canon fodder, “if anything, she got fucked up because you tried to run away. Because you tried to abandon us.” Jean goes still beside you like a statue. The glass shard nearly slips from your cold, clammy fingers and you bite your lip, tasting dried blood on your lips. “At some point,” Eren continues, “you’ll have to stop making excuses and stop running.”

Notes: [01] || 10 | 12

Words: 8.2k

A/N: like i promised, i'm baaack!! used my off time to finally finish AoT manga and let me just say I was pretty disappointed :)

the story still remains one of my absolute favourite, but I fell out of love with some characters the same as I fell in love with others.

i really missed uploading and i really missed you guys ♥ thank you for everyone who kept sending me messages about the story!! it makes me so happy to see how much you're enjoying it and yes, some may have figured out the secret! any ask gets a tiny snippet from the story hehehehe i can't not share the stuff with you, especially the smut ehehehehehe. enjoy! (also hmu if you want to join the taglist!)

Chapter 11: The Forest of Hands and Teeth (Pt.2)

The words shake the foundation of your world, open up the ground beneath your feet. Lying under the surface, where you always thought there was benign soil, you discover a pit of bottomless black, yawning wide, waiting to swallow you whole.

All the way, the men herd you like lambs for slaughter away from your camp to a tree where they tie you up. You stay silent, fighting off a crushing waterfall of thoughts and fears and burning tears—everything that is at once vicious and violent. It is only when they are done that your conscience arises from the murky, dark waters of slithering thoughts and ruining imaginations.

Ropes bind your hands together behind your back, biting painfully enough into your skin that all feeling slowly begins to trickle away. Shoulders pressed against shoulders, thick ropes cut into your upper arms tying you against the skin-scratching, rough bark of a tree.

You blink dazedly when after all the commotion there is suddenly nothing but silence—silence and a sharp pain in your closed palm sending shocks of tiny pinpricks up your arm. The men have left, decided that with nothing to break you free from your binds, you are just a bunch of harmless teenagers unable to either save Christa, whom they’ve taken for leverage, or get your equipment back and put up much of a fight.

The silence that mutes you is a savage beast, sharp-toothed and snarling as if it is just waiting to sink its dreadful talons into whoever manages to summon the courage to speak first.

It is no surprise that it is Eren who shows the beast his own fangs and claws sharpened by seething fury.

“We … we could have done something.” He’s sitting between Jean and Connie, too far away from you to see the emotion on his face, but from the tone in his voice, it has to be hot contempt. “If we attacked as a team, we could have shown those bastards, you fucking cowards!” His voice booms over the quiet of the forest, startling birds and squirrels from their slumber.

There’s no reply. The events replay once more behind your closed eyes, quick flashes of pictures, your skin remembering the pressure of a cold rifle barrel. You take a deep, shuddering breath, and fumble with your fingers until the sharp pain relents from your palm. You couldn’t have done anything earlier. But you are not helpless now.

With your arms shaking from the strain and the uncomfortable angle, you begin to cut at your ropes binding your wrists with the shard from the broken whiskey bottle you picked up during the quarrel earlier.

And then of course, because as long as Eren Jaeger lives, Jean Kirschstein will stand against him.

“That’s your opinion,” Jean mumbles, and then louder he continues, and you can feel from the way his shoulders turn hard as stone that the rage in him circles and collects at the centre of his lungs from where he can just spit it out. “I don’t agree. Actually, because of your crazy behaviour, everyone was at danger. [Name] almost fucking died because you acted up.” And quieter, he says, “Victor did die.”

You can hear Eren’s sharp inhale. Marco, ever the diplomat, quickly intervenes, “That wasn’t his fault. It was nobody’s fault, and you know it, Jean.” His voice is thick with an emotion you don’t know how to take apart to unravel the core. “You know it.”

“If anything,” Eren says, and you can hear Armin’s quiet plea “Please stop talking, Eren,” because he knows Eren better than he himself, and if there is a chance to resolve the conflict without it blowing up, Armin will always throw himself in as canon fodder, “if anything, she got fucked up because you tried to run away. Because you tried to abandon us.”

Jean goes still beside you like a statue. The glass shard nearly slips from your cold, clammy fingers and you bite your lip, tasting dried blood on your lips.

“At some point,” Eren continues, “you’ll have to stop making excuses and stop running.”

“Fuck you,” Jean spits, but he’s looking away, shaking slightly, and you know he’s fighting hard not to cry and it cracks something inside you open and now that it is spilling, you have nothing to mend the broken pieces and stop it from spreading.

“If you two could just shut up for a second,” you say, feeling the ropes come loose but also the glass turning slippery in your fingers from new cuts, bleeding and stinging, “maybe we can get out of here faster and make a plan.”

“What—what are you talking about?” Jean shifts, and almost drives the sharp point of the shard right into your wrist. “What are you doing?”

When the rope finally snaps, your arms jolt right into Jean and Connie sitting to your left and right. You bring your arms forward, presenting your unbound hands but also the cuts and slashes on your hands, the bloody shard glinting in the sharp, silvery moonlight. “I,” you say, and the only reason you grin is probably because you’ve lost so much blood you can’t think straight, “am getting us out of here.”

Jean sucks in a sharp breath. Connie makes a relieved sound that is close to a whimper. From the other side of the tree, Mina’s soft sobs have finally stopped and Sasha demands, “What’s happenin’? What’s she doin’?” You doubt she’s realised that she’s allowed her formal speech to slip from all the agitation.

“That’s from Victor’s bottle,” Connie realises, awe-struck. “God, that—he is saving us in a way, isn’t he?”

Lips pressed together tightly, you begin to work at the thick rope tying you all to the tree. It gives you enough reason not to think about how true Connie’s words are, and that even after everything Victor has done, he did not deserve to die such a gruesome death.

You change the shard from hand to hand whenever it hurts too much, but after five minutes, it finally becomes loose enough that a hard pull from everyone else rips the rope apart and it falls in your laps.

“Here, cut me free,” Jean urges, turning his back to you. “Let me take over.”

You don’t argue. When Jean is free, he immediately snags the shard from you, making you jolt away. He’s sickeningly pale, his eyes too big for his face. “Shit, sorry.”

Your response is weak, and he notices. “I’m fine.”

“Nothing about this is fine.” But instead of arguing, he turns away and begins to cut the ropes off Eren’s hands. It doesn’t take long until finally everyone is free, and the mirror expressions you are all wearing says the same: What now?

Mina has come around the tree and kneels before you, gently pressing a piece of fabric she has torn off her shirt against your bleeding palms. You have always noticed how tiny her hands are, how cute and slender her fingers dance whenever she’s excited and claps her hands. Now they are surprisingly strong, yet gentle, as Mina puts them under your chin and inspects your busted nose after cleaning most of the blood away as best as she could.

You can’t stand the worry edged deep into the lines of her face, the dimples around her mouth. “Am I still pretty?” you ask, the smile on your face feeling like those wonky grins children slice into pumpkins with jagged knives for All Hallow’s Eve.

Mina sighs. “Always,” she mumbles, and she doesn’t smile but her eyes do light up a little and it’s the little victories that count for you. “I don’t think it’s broken, so that’s good.”

“There goes my idea to skip cleaning the gear shack for the next couple of weeks.”

“Dude,” says Connie, and if Connie Springer of all people has to reprimand you, you know you’re balancing on a thin tightrope.

It’s Marco’s tight voice, all business-like, that puts a lid on your next light-hearted words. He’s sitting on the ground, cut ropes coiling around him like a thick snake. “What are we supposed to do now? We can’t continue this exercise, it’s over.”

No one objects. Over Mina’s shoulder, you watch Jean mumbling quiet things to Armin who has started shaking once more like aspen leaves in high wind. When he meets your eyes, he immediately looks away, his throat working.

How much do you remember? The words notch into you, cutting deeper than the shard ever could. You’ll get your answers, even if you have to retie him against something and drag them out of him.

“Are we abandoning Christa?” Eren’s voice is quiet. He stands tall and strong against the slithering darkness, but from the way his shoulders are drooping you can tell he is not fine. He looks almost forlorn, surrounded by the looming shadows of the tall trees.

“No, no, by the Walls, we aren’t abandoning anyone.” Marco rakes his hands through his black hair, staring down at the ground between his feet. “But with just us, what can we do? We should head back and ask the instructors—”

“What if we don’t make it?” Eren cuts him short. He finally turns, though his body sags in defeat, you can still see fire burning in his eyes. “I’m not just gonna stand back and retreat. I’m going to save Christa.”

Armin tries to stand but his knees buckle under his weight. Jean quickly catches him before he can fall. “Wait, Eren—”

“Wait for what?!” Eren snaps, and when Armin startles, he either doesn’t notice or ignores it. “Wait to find others who can do the shit that we can do now?! Those fucking pigs won’t hesitate to … to—” His sharp eyes find yours as if that is statement enough.

Oh, you realise suddenly. Before, when the man with the potato bag over his head wanted to have his way with you, it wasn’t Jean screaming not to lay a hand on you. It was Eren.

Now, he takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll go alone, if I have to,” he says now. “Before they hurt her. Or kill her, too.”

“You stupid idiot, do you really think you can do anything on your own?” Jean scrambles to his feet, rises to meet Eren’s glare.

“Guys, please.” Mina’s voice beside you is so quiet. “We can’t afford to be at each other’s throat right now. Things are bad enough.” She seems frail, all of a sudden. Thin and transparent, like she might disappear any moment. You feel an overwhelming urge to just hold her.

The sound of protest clawing its way up your throat, already resounding from Armin to your left, is squashed by Marco’s hand resting gently yet affirming on Armin’s knee. He’s looking up at Jean, and there’s something flashing in his dark eyes you can’t read.

“If I won’t do it, no one will!” Eren screams back, and even though his voice is so loud, like that itself should be enough to drive his point across, he seems small as if he’s moments away from caving in.

“And how are you going to find her?” Jean’s voice has a veneer of calm, but beneath you could hear the vibration of some very different emotion. “All our horses were released, we got nothing on us. You think you can catch up to them on foot?”

“I can’t just stand still and do nothing.” Eren is seething with anger. His hands, balled into tight fists, shake by his side as if he’s about to take on the whole world all by himself and Heavens, what a heavy burden that is. What a lonely pursuit. It makes you want to tug him away, somewhere to a safe place where he doesn’t have to fight all the damn time.

“We won’t,” Jean says, quietly at first, and then louder, “we won’t. I’m coming with you.”

Eren opens his mouth, closes it. He looks at Jean as if he’s seeing him for the first time.

“We’ll go together,” Jean continues, “and we’ll get Christa back.”

“Christa and our gear.” Slowly, Marco climbs to his feet. Determination turns the lopsided smile of his mouth into a formidable line. There’s little hesitation when the rest follow Jean’s declaration, vow that they won’t let Eren alone.

If you’re looking closely enough, it almost seems as if Eren is about to cry.

“It’s settled then.” Jean brushes dirt off his pants. “We’ll go together, stay together. That’ll give us a better chance at surviving this.”

“And we can’t head back first? Only … only for a moment,” Mina says, making everyone turn to her.

“Why?” Jean asks. You startle a little when he leans forward and pulls you up to your feet, a hand around your arm. “We don’t have time to get back and pack up.”

Mina is quiet for a moment. “To bury Victor.”

Someone makes a very small, plaintive sound. Armin’s eyes widen when you all look at him, and he hurriedly brushes Eren’s hands away, who is trying to inspect the little scratches on his face. After he had stumbled over his own feet earlier, one of the men had yanked him up roughly.

His small hands lay balled into tight fists on his lap. “They had one horse pulling their cart … for so many people and all that equipment, I doubt they’ll make it far. Which means they’ll have to stop, maybe take stock of their yields.” Armin’s lashes flutter like the wings of an anxious butterfly. “It’s the only chance we’ll get to catch up to them.”

“No turning back now.” Eren at least has the decency to look apologetic towards Mina. Her answer is a raised chin, a confident nod. You all have to deal with this later.

“So, how are we gonna do this?” asks Connie. He’s dragging his sleeve over Sasha’s face, wiping off any remaining snot from her nose. “We might not make it even if we split up.”

“And if we keep following that path they took without really knowing where they went, we might get lost.” Jean’s face is grey and hollow, as if cut from living rock.

“How about we climb to a higher place?” offers Sasha. “When you get lost in the mountains, climb upwards. If you get lost in a forest, climb a tree. That’s what my Pops—I mean father always told me.”

“Okay. First, we find high ground, then hopefully some signs of those fuckers. And then …” Jean looks around, as if he’s just remembered you’re all stuck in the woods in the middle of the night and maybe there are more things you should be scared of. “Well, we’ll figure out how to deal with them once we find them.”

“We stick together, we take care of each other, okay?” Marco says, sharing urgent gazes with each one of you. “You see, hear, smell anything weird, the whole group has to know.”

“Yes, sir,” you chorus as one, and even though you don’t like to think about how you unload this on Marco’s shoulders, it feels good to have him still stepping into the leader’s shoes and trying to keep you all together and at least pretend everything is under control.

He turns to you and makes sure the worst of the bleeding has stopped before he uses Mina’s tattered fabric to bandage your hands. “You remember the map? There’s a rock overhang nearby that should give us a good outlook over the whole forest.”

“It’s south-east from our camp,” you say and try not to flinch when the fabric burns against your cuts. “But I … I didn’t pay attention to where exactly they led us, and where we are now.”

“It’s fine.” Marco gives your wrists a quick, encouraging squeeze. “You did enough already.”

He turns to the others, explains where you’re going, and moves to the very front to lead. You move in the quiet of the night, a small group of hunched people one could easily mistake for malformed animals. The order is nonsensical, Marco and Mina at the front, then Connie and Sasha, and once you begin the ascent of the rock formation, Eren is glued to Armin’s side and helps him whenever he stumbles or just needs to take a quick breather.

You can’t tell what exactly it is Jean’s been waiting for, but when he falls beside you, he sticks to your side like a shadow. He’s silent for a moment, but he can’t keep the words inside him for too long before he needs them out. “How are your hands?” he starts with something safe.

You spread them before you, wiggle your fingers slightly. “The bleeding’s stopped. Didn’t cut too deep, thankfully.”

They fall back to your sides, but Jean quickly reaches out and takes one in his. You see him gnawing at his bottom lip as his fingers graze the bandages, lingering for a moment at the dark copper spots where the fabric has sucked in your blood.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His thumb brushes your knuckles, and you feel thrown back to another time, inside the infirmary where he said he would protect you from exactly this.

“What for?”

Jean lowers his head. “I ran away.”

You can’t help it, laughing a little. “You didn’t make it far.”

“I mean it,” he says, and the urgency in his voice makes you both halt. “I’m the last one who would agree with anything that suicidal maniac says, but he—he was right. All I could think of was saving my own ass. Well, getting away to get help, but ultimately.” He shakes his head. “And even then, after the—” He swallows hard. “—the shot. After the shot, you tried to come for me. You still tried to help.”

You hum, open your mouth, and the memory hits you so hard it gives you whiplash.

Crossing your arms, you cock your head towards him. “Bold that you think I’m sticking around here and wait for you.”

Emil snorts but he looks almost pleased. The crown is almost done. “You’ll be here. And I’ll come back to you. I will always come back to you.”

You bite your trembling bottom lip, press the corners of your mouth further up into a smile even though it wavers and threatens to disappear. “Oh, come on,” you say, punching his arm lightly. “You know I’ll always come back for you, Jeanbo.”

Even in the darkness, you can see him flushing hard. His shoulders shake when he takes a deep breath in, deep breath out, then blinks up at the moon. You pretend you don’t see the tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Same,” he says, and his grip around your wrist is borderline painful, but you don’t pull away. You let him hold you and reaffirm to himself that you’re safe and here. “I’ll come back for you, [Name]. We’re a team, we’ve always been a team.” He points at you, then at himself. “Pot. Kettle.”

You bump into his side.

“Heya, right now is literally the worst time to flirt, you two!” Connie calls down to you, peeking over a ledge. They’re all much further ahead than you’ve expected, getting so lost in your conversation with Jean.

Jean flips him off, and you can hear Connie’s grunt as he laughs to himself. When he turns away, you spot Eren staring down at you, but you can’t read his expression from down here, and before you can call up if everything’s alright, he’s turned away and you only see his retreating back.

You ignore how your heart shrinks to the size of a walnut. This will have to wait for later, when you can find time and peace to entangle the muddle of thoughts still occupying your mind without worrying to get shot. Or worse.

Before Jean can start the excruciating climb up the rocks, you latch onto the hem of his jacket. “What did you mean with your question?” you ask. “Earlier, I mean. What … what am I supposed to remember?”

Jean throws a quick glance up to the others, and you know there’s no time and you have to hurry. But something, even if it’s crumbs, has to appease the hunger to know inside you before this black hole swallows you. If Jean knows something, he owes you that much.

“God, it’s been so long.” Jean wipes a hand over his face. He looks exhausted. “All I remember is my parents talking about it, and asking, well…” He waves a hand in your direction as if that’s supposed to make you understand. “They asked me not to mention it so it wouldn’t trigger some unpleasant memories. Apparently someone…,” Jean trails off. He braces himself. You’ve only seen him take on that posture when he’s about to swing at Eren during an argument.

“Jean.” You tug on his jacket, feeling your hands go clammy. “I need to know. Please.”

“Someone kidnapped you, when you were little,” Jean says slowly. He falters for a moment, squeezes his eyes shut, like the memory of that conversation with his parents is still too close, too painful, excruciating. “You weren’t gone too long, they had found you on the same day. Some old fart had locked you up in his house while going about his day. It was your Dad … your Dad who found you. When I asked my Mom, she only said that your Dad made sure that guy would never steal little girls from their parents again, and I thought that meant the Garrison, or Hell even the Military Police took care of him.” He focuses on you fully now, and you wish he would stop talking. Your guts clench like someone has kicked you in the stomach.

“Your father killed that man when your captor swung a knife at you two. The Military Police ruled it self-protection and closed the case from what I overheard my parents say. You had blacked out during that fight, but when you came over to visit after that, and my Mother accidentally slipped up … you acted like it had never happened.”

You stare at him, throat tight, the cold sweat sensation of dread spreading slowly through your limbs. “How old was I?”

“Ten? Or eleven, I think?”

“And what … what did that man do to me?”

Jean’s voice is frighteningly quiet. “I don’t know.”

You feel sick. “So it could have been anything.”

“Or nothing,” Jean replies fast, sharp. “Your Dad found you really fast, I know that much. Or I mean, that’s what your parents told mine.”

You stare past his shoulder at a dark spot in the sky where black clouds have hidden away the stars. “So, my Dad saved me.”

It makes sense. The room you remember, the green wallpaper with golden flowers strewn across, the weight of an imposing man behind you. You calling for your father’s help.

And yet.

The feeling is all wrong. You have a vague remembrance of that feeling, and it was not relief at knowing your father was on the other side of that locked, heavy door. Rather, it is closer to … harrowing, horrific fear.

As if he had left you there.

You try to shake the feeling of dread away, to push all these thoughts to the far back of your mind. If you had really lived through such a traumatic experience at such a young age, maybe you had simply suppressed those memories out of shock.

Though that doesn’t explain why you still see the fall of Wall Maria vividly as if it is the very same day, every event a clear image burnt into the backside of your closed eyes.

And why … why of all things … why had Emil never said anything to you? You would have noticed his behaviour changing—he would have worried himself sick about you.

“When we’re back in Trost, I’ll have to ask Ida about it. About everything. She should have told me at … at some point.” Not anger pangs through your chest, hot and sudden like a bullet, but an urgency that is nearly as frightening. You need to know every single detail. Right now it feels as though you are grasping for sand as it slips through your fingers, using it to rebuild the very foundation of the person that you are.

“I’m sure she, and Dad, didn’t see a point in it because you didn’t remember.” Jean juts his chin up to where the others are still waiting and continues the ascent, you hard on his heels. Quieter, he says, “Why make you scared when you were better off not knowing? They thought it kinder to spare you that.”

“Because it would have been honest.” You give him a long, hard look. “Maybe not kind, truth isn’t kind. But it is the truth.”

He turns around at that. The milky-white slant of moonlight catches in his hair, his eyes. Jean gives you a nod, easy and simple, and it weighs more than any promise he could have made.

“Let’s try to make it out of these woods first, okay?” Jean says when you’re almost at the top. “And then we can think about everything that’s happened. And write Ma a letter.”

“Yeah.” Deep breath in, deep breath out—resettle the beating of your heart and remind yourself you are not alone. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

He gives you one last, fleeting look, then turns to assert the situation before him: Armin is greedily finishing up the rest of water from Mina’s field bota bag, Sasha and Connie huddle together, lost in their own quiet, private conversation. Marco and Eren perch by the edge of the cliff, both facing the forest stretching out before them.

You join them right in time when Marco whips out his binoculars to survey the area ahead.

“Found anything?” Jean asks. He kneels beside Eren, eyes roaming the horizon. Eren, in the middle of them, steals a glance at you, first at your face, then at your bandaged hands. You wiggle your fingers in his direction to show you’re alright, all fingers are still working. He purses his mouth, looking as if he doesn’t really buy it. You make your point by flipping him off good-naturedly, which at least makes the corners of his mouth twitch a little. Another small victory.

“Smoke, right there.” Marco points into the distance at a thin trail of grey smoke curling into the night sky. “Armin was right,” he continues, handing Jean the binoculars. “They’re currently camping out and loading the carts. Christa seems fine.”

“For now,” Eren bites out.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Jean lowers the binoculars. “We won’t make it in time, even if we head out immediately.”

“And unlike us, they can defend themselves.” Marco looks grim. “And I don’t want anyone else ending up like Victor.”

“I … I might have an idea.” You all turn at the timid sound of Armin’s voice. He’s wiping his mouth dry quickly, and hands Mina’s flask back. He looks over at you sharply, his eyes glinting with steely determination. “But I need your help.”

Suddenly, everyone is looking at you as if you owe them something. You want to take a step back, but there’s only a cliff and a steep fall waiting behind you. Literally.

“Okay.” You pull at the loose threads coming off the bandages. “Shoot.”

“We might have to head back to camp anyway to get some of the stuff we’ll need, but I want to be sure just in case, and you’re really good at memorising maps. How many wide exits are there in this forest?”

“Wide exits?”

“Wide as in wide enough to let them pass through with multiple carriages.”

You turn, take a good, long look at the forest with its tall reaching green peaks like gnarly fingers waiting to snap at whatever dares to come too close. You recognise some landmarks from the map: two giant rock formations facing each other, a smaller one right behind them—the points of a triangle. Mountains encircle the forest, high in the east, dipping down a little and rising again towards the south.

You point a finger towards them, and say, “That’s the closest exist in this area. The other two wide enough for them to leave are in the opposite direction. I’m pretty sure the road over there divides into two routes after you clear the forest.”

“Then that’s where we’ll ambush them. Once they enter the wider exit, we don’t stand a chance, so we have to lead them back into the forest.” Armin turns to Sasha. “Can you lead us there? We’ll have to head back to camp first, get ropes and some other things. But can you bring us over there?”

Sasha takes in the area, lips puckered in concentration. She grins. It isn’t a pleasant sort of grin; too many teeth, too feral. It makes you want to kiss her.

“No problem,” she says at last. “I can get us there fast enough, even without horses.”

Armin heaves a relieved sigh, but his expression quickly turns sour at the sight of having to climb the mountain all the way down again. When Eren notices and offers to give him a piggy-back ride, Armin declines vehemently.

“Okay, so what’s your plan exactly,” Jean asks halfway down the mountain. Whenever he stumbles or trips on loose rocks, his hands shoot out to hold onto Marco to steady himself, which is cute, or onto you, which is annoying because you can’t even carry half his weight.

“We block off the route leading to the wider exit by putting a tree in their way. That’s where the ropes come into play. Three of us will stay at the road fork and detour the carts. The rest will wait ahead until they arrive. I think it’s best only two hide in trees and jump onto the carts to attack them.”

“I’ll go,” Eren immediately says.

“I’ll go, too,” Jean quickly follows up. You want to catch his eye, but he’s staring ahead stubbornly.

“How do we figure out which carriage are Christa and our ODM gear are in?” you ask. Little rocks give away under your foot, but before you can slip, Jean has a strong hand around your arm and hauls you up.

It is Marco that answers: “The ODM gear should be easy. The roads leading back into the forest will be rocky and bumpy. If we hear a rattling sound, we’ll be able to tell.”

“The leftover cans at camp,” Armin says. “We can use them to give the sign.”

Marco nods. “If the equipment is in the first carriage, I’ll pull once. If it’s the one after, then twice. If it’s both, I’ll pull three times.”

“Okay, that’s a fucking great plan,” says Jean. “But let’s hurry back, or else we’ll never catch up to them.”

With every step closer back to camp, putting foot before foot becomes more difficult, as if your limbs are heavy with lead. You don’t want to see Victor’s corpse and be reminded of what happened earlier, but as you move on, with no chance to stand still, you brace yourself for the worst.

The worst you have imagined, it turns out, is still tame compared to the actual sight. Within minutes after he’s died, blow flies have arrived and now swarm around Victor’s blown head. Even from a good few feet away, you see them scurrying around, diving into the openings of his body and the big hole at the side of his face to lay their eggs into his rotting meat.

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, noticing the sour taste of rising bile spreading inside your mouth. Quickly, you turn away before yesterday’s meal comes back up to greet you.

The sudden movement of you turning around startles Eren, who has crept up behind you, and out of instinct, you guess, he grabs your shoulders to steady you, probably worried you were about to pass out.

“Woah, easy there.” He has to lower his head a little to get to your eye level. “You okay?”

The look on your face must be answer enough, because he winces at his question. “Right, sorry.”

His eyes drift over to Victor’s body, and as you watch him you are surprised there isn’t any strong emotion on his face. No disgust, no sorrow, like having the dead remains of a former comrade—even though he was a bad person and not very kind—is a completely normal thing.

“Uhm, Eren.”

He still isn’t looking at you. “Hm?”

“You can let me go now, I’m good.”

“Oh.” Eren’s eyes sweep over at you. His hands loosen their grip on your shoulders, but instead of falling back to his side, they slowly slide down your arms—as if they have a mind of their own, confused and a little lost without your shoulders as anchors to hold onto.

Eren blinks, gaze darting to your mouth, and then quickly away. “I think that was the first time.”

You roll your shoulders, still feeling the touch of his fingers as if they have seared their imprint through the solid fabric of your jacket right into your skin. “First time for what?”

“That you called me by my name. Not Jaeger.”

“Oh. Well. Almost dying together earns me that privilege, I think.”

He gives a little, dry chuckle. Somehow, you feel that as long as he can laugh, everything is going to be okay. Eren looks at you, slow and hard, and then smiles. His green eyes light up. “Then I have earned it as well,” he says. “[Name].”

You have never thought about your name much before, but when he says it, it is as if you are hearing it for the first time, and suddenly you are aware of how intimate calling each other by the first name is, and how much you like the sound of your name on his lips. Your breath is very short when you repeat, softly, “Eren.”

“Yes?” Amusement glitters in his eyes.

With a sort of horror you realise that you have simply said his name for the sake of saying it; you haven’t actually had a question—you just craved another taste of his name in your mouth. Hastily, you stumble over the words even though you don’t know where they might lead, “When Victor got shot, there was an owl. Wasn’t that weird?”

If he finds your sudden change of topic strange or suspicious, he doesn’t show it. “Weird how?”

“That it was there at all. I didn’t know they’d be so close to the ground when people are around.”

Eren shrugs. “Nothing weird about it. It was probably just looking for food.”

You don’t know much about owls, but that doesn’t seem right. Feel right. You rub your heavy eyelids, feeling a dull throb crawling along the back of your head. Was it all just bad timing? Fate? You don’t know what would have happened if it had been you spinning to the bottom of the Wheel of Fortune.

“We’ve decided you’ll stay with Marco and Armin to give us the signal when to attack.” Eren’s voice is suddenly close as he dips his head to you as if he’s sharing a secret. You blink up at him, ready to argue which he reads in your face as if it is an open book. “[Name], think about it. You’re hurt. Marco is right, you’ve done enough.”

It is hard to argue against this, with your palms cut open and still hurting. Still, somehow you feel like there is more you can do, should do. You move away from Victor’s body, scanning the ground for empty cans. Eren sticks to your side.

“We only get one chance at saving Christa,” he continues. “If we mess it up, she’s as good as dead. Our gear will be gone. But there’s no way we’ll mess this up. We got three cadets from the top here, we’ll save her.”

It’s sweet that he tries to comfort you, thinking your hesitation is because you’re scared of failing. You should just thank him and catch up with the rest.

Instead, you blurt, “Do you like Christa?” and immediately regret having opened your mouth.

Eren blinks as if he’s been knocked off his feet and he’s still trying to understand what has hit him. “She’s a comrade, so … yeah?” He frowns as if you’ve spoken a different language and he’s realising maybe his answer is completely wrong. “I mean, sometimes she creeps me out with all that holier than thou, being super friendly. All that benevolence has to drive her insane at some point. And it’s creepy sometimes.”

That wasn’t what you meant but you’re not too keen to explain what answer you actually want from him.

“Maybe you’re having a hard time understanding her,” you say, noticing how much easier it is to fall back into teasing banter and light-hearted jabs, “because you don’t know how to be nice.”

“I can be plenty nice if I want to.” He narrows his eyes at you, and it feels like there is more behind this; as if there is something else layered in his words but you are missing the respective key to unlock the door and get behind the meaning.

Before you can say anything else, Connie wedges himself between you two. You didn’t even notice how close you and Eren stood.

“Hate to break ya up, but we’re leaving,” he announces. Eyes half-closed, he’s wearing this expression you’ve come to associate with Conny being tired of some shit—you just never expected to get the brunt of it.

He has probably known it long before you.

Everybody has known it long before you, but you were oblivious to the signs, maybe even a little scared to pay them too much attention.

It will still take another two years until you finally find the courage to tiptoe closer to the edge, only to have Eren yank you down into the void with him.

Armin’s plan worked out splendidly, which was a surprise to no one.

After Christa’s heartfelt plea to spare the men, held at blade-edge by Mikasa and Annie who managed to find your group after Armin had used Sasha’s signal flare, Thomas and Bertholdt had rode out to inform the instructors of what had transpired and where the remaining recruits were holding the attackers captive until reinforcements arrived.

Once their headwear was off and you had a good look at the faces of your assaulters, it was easy to see them for what they were: miserable men trying to get by with any means necessary. Thieves and beggars, left of any other civil option to provide for their families.

You couldn’t say it out loud then, but there was no ounce of pity for them inside you. Everybody seemed to simply agree with Christa’s noble spirit, that killing them was wrong; that making them pay for what they did was not the solution. It didn’t sit right with you. Only one look at Eren was enough to tell you he might be the only one sharing that sentiment.

A quarter of a day was all it took for Shadis to arrive, with him the Military Police soldiers from Trost. They took the men away in police carriages, sending them to the inner Wall where they would be judged and locked away. You didn’t want to think what that would mean for their families, the very reason they got into this in the first place. Maybe there are worse things than death.

Depending on how many recruits passed away within three months after the last, obsequies were held at the end of the third month. Because Victor Hoffmann had been the only one, the instructors deemed it sufficient to simply cremate his remains and send them back to his relatives in a simple wooden box with his possessions. Shortly after that, both his friends Albert Kleinstein and Edmund Rowe left the military service. All three, gone. Just like that.

A day after, you had sent a letter to Ida and Felix, asking for every detail from that day seven years ago when you were kidnapped. It was weird, how while you were sitting down and forming the words on the paper, each ink stroke unravelled the tight knot in your stomach—all of a sudden it all had seemed not important anymore. What could you do with that information?

Seven years later, with the villain of your little story dead, and your hero as well. Would knowing change anything for you? Why did it feel as if all the threads and weaves holding you together suddenly became unknitted and the person you see in the mirror every morning appeared to slowly turn into a stranger.

At least the ring hanging on the thin golden chain always remained the same. At least there was one part of your past that remained a constant and steady point around which you rotated—a sun to your star system.

That concludes the low-risk Wasteland Excursion, one you’re sure the instructors will tell every following cadet corps in the years to come.

“Low-risk my ass,” Jean mumbles. His dirty hair falls into his eyes as he leans over his lap, fumbling with a loose screw on his turbine. The tip of his nose is red and his words come out in little puffs and dense clouds. Winter is approaching, fast and hard, and you couldn’t be happier for Ida’s care package to arrive in two weeks with hopefully a new scarf and a warm pair of gloves. Gear maintenance is all that’s left for today, then you’re allowed to hit the showers and call it a day. “Every single one of us should get a fucking medal for putting up with those thieves and catching them.”

“I can already imagine what Shadis would say to that.” You lower your voice. “Are you chipmunks going to expect us to give you a medal every time you return from a fight? Get back after you killed some real Titans and maybe I’ll give you a pat on the shoulder. Now scram.”

“That was a good impression,” Jean allows. “But he would never call us chipmunks.”

“I love chipmunks,” is all Marco contributes before he dives back refilling his gas cylinder.

“I think at least Marco and Thomas should get bonus points for holding the groups together.” You glance over at him, noticing how his hair has grown and how he always brushes it behind his ears whenever he is flustered. “You guys were great leaders.”

“I don’t know if I should have accepted the leader position, to be honest.” Marco smiles sheepishly at you. “But thanks.”

“Why not?” Jean breathes on the metal case of his housing, polishing the surface. “You did a good job. I think it fits you.”

Marco tugs his hair behind his ears. “Nah, I’m not suited to be a leader. You’re more up for that job, Jean.”

At that, Jean looks up. They share a look that seems like a dare. Eventually, Jean goes back to work. “Why’s that?” he asks.

“I don’t think you’re ready to hear it yet. But someday, I’ll tell you.”

“Am I ready to hear it?” you ask.

Marco grins and leans over, his voice very quiet and very deep in your ear. “I just really enjoy looking at him from behind.”

Oh.

He leans away, giving you a quick wink. Your little secret. You’re pretty sure your face is on fire right now.

“What did he say, tell me,” Jean demands.

You mimic sealing your mouth shut and throwing the key away. Jean kicks at your foot in a half-hearted attempt to make you talk. He points a finger accusingly in your and Marco’s direction. “You’re ganging up on me. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Leaving me out? Dear God, don’t make me have to befriend Jaeger.”

“Eren can’t stand you,” you point out.

“Armin, then.”

“Armin’s too smart for you.”

“Keep talking and I’ll dunk your head inside a latrine.”

Marco laughs, but it quickly trickles away into a somewhat sorrowful smile. “Do you guys think we can spend all our days like this?”

“Together?” you ask.

“Mocking each other?” Jean offers.

“Yeah, together.” Marco looks at you two, and he somehow looks much younger and older at the same time. “Jean and I want to join the Military Police and you’ll go to the Garrison, but maybe we can still … you know.” He shrugs a little helplessly. “Still hang out.”

“I think [Name] and I are ready to broaden our horizons, open the gates.” Jean claps his hands, then spreads them wide as if he is a pastor ready to absolve Marco. “Let someone new in and become a trio.”

He wiggles his fingers, looking at you and Marco expectantly. Marco scoots closer, allowing Jean to leisurely throw an arm around his shoulder. Now they both look at you expectantly.

“I’m good, guys,” you say, blowing off fine iron dust from your hooks, satisfied with the result. “There are more priorities on my list, sorry.”

Jean rolls his eyes. “Like what?”

“A long, hot shower.”

Marco sighs, but he is in no hurry to untangle Jean’s arm from his shoulders. “She’s got a point.”

“You can’t run from the Jean-Marco-[Name] sandwich forever,” Jean says, pointing at you. He then turns to Marco. “And to answer your question, no. I don’t think we’ll stay together forever. We grow up, we find our own things to do. But what’s important is that we’re in each other’s hearts … or …. some shit … like that,” Jean finishes quietly at the baffled gazes you and Marco level him with. It takes only one second for his face to become the colour of the red roses on the Garrison soldier’s uniforms, and he quickly tries to hide it behind Ida’s scarf she knitted him two years ago.

“That was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said, I think,” you say in awe. “Who are you and where is the real Jean?”

“Shut up and go take a shower.” He pushes you off your stool. “Try not to drown or whatever.”

You laugh until the muscles in your face strain, until your belly hurts. You laugh, because it is easier than finding the words that you too wish the same.

All three of you don’t make a promise on it because you know that would be too cruel.

❀❀❀

When you call to me asleep, up the sandy hills I scramble. A single thread hangs limply down, and I breathe, “Not now, not now.” I find you all unwoven, trying desperately to sew. And I know the kindest thing is to leave you alone. Yet I am selfish. I want every part of me to crash into every part of you, and I swear that is how stars are born.

When your seams have come unknitted, and you cry out to the sky, I’ve run out of my words, my song, just let me die, me die. The rockrose and the thistle will whistle as you mourn. I could try to calm you down, but I know you won’t.

All the pins inside your fretted head and your muttered “Whens” and “Hows;” all your mother’s weaves and your father’s threads, let me rob you of them now. Because I will darn you back together when you think that you’re bereft, and you’ll wail, you’ll scream, but I will never stop, because you are all that I have left.

I awake and hear you calling, and up those hills I climb. And I find you with a thimble weeping; “May I”, I ask, “may I?”

And you gently gift it to me because you have no clue how to sew.

And I know the kindest thing—I pray to both our Gods, it is the kindest thing … I know the kindest thing is to never leave you alone.

Rockrose (also cistus of the Cistaceae plant family) in the Victorian language of flowerssymbolizes imminent death.

Thistle: In Celtic countries, the associations are positive, and the flower symbolises resilience, strength, determination, protection and pride. The flower’s purple and pink colours represent royalty. In Victorian England, the thistle signified pain, aggression and intrusion.

These whole last part in cursive are the lyrics of Rockrose and Thistle by The Amazing Devil. I’ve changed a few words to make it fit, but I don’t take credit for this poetic master piece.

***

A/N: y’all, connie knows

so yeah, we got a little more! i'm so eager to hear everyone's thoughts and theories! especially the last part, this song/poem plays a huge role in explaining why Reader (doesn't) remember(s) certain things, or other people recall them differently… interesting, isn't it. i'm happy to be back and can't wait to give you more!! stay healthy everyone!

#aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #snk x reader #snk x you #snk x y/n #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren yeager x reader #phill.stay #swyaatl #eren jaeger x reader

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negrowhat · 2 years

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uuuuuuuh loved that question! do you think winteam are in love or not there yet? AND if they are, why did they fell in love with each other?

Well let me just go off of what I've already seen and read. We didn't get a lot of their story in UWMA and the Between Us Special Eps were quite literally plotless. I did read Hemp Rope, though that was a few years back when UWMA came out so I'm just going off memory alone (I haven't had time to re-read).

But by the end of everything they're for sure going to be in love. Win and Team have a very deep relationship. Win comes from a family that expects him to act and look a certain way. He's expected to be in service to his family members too, so the way he presents himself is very much in direct rebellion against his family. He wants to be himself and not take things too seriously and just be how he feels in the moment.

Team is dealing with some heavy trauma from nearly drowning when he was younger. To conquer his trauma he joined the swim team, but the trauma is still there and is manifesting as insomnia for him. He often has nightmares and he feels like he's freezing and drowning. He gets high anxiety and doesn't sleep very well if at all.

The 2 of them have sex when they go to the swim training camp we see wayyyy at the beginning of UWMA. Win has always been interested in Team, he thought he was really cute. But Team? Not so much. He thought Win was an annoying playboy.

Team soon discovers that he finds comfort in Win's presence. When he stays over at Win's place he finds that he is able to sleep peacefully. He feels warm and protected, and funnily enough Win has the AC on blast always. But Team sleeps very well in Win's arms. So they start spending more and more time together and get closer.

Now I can't remember if Win knows about Team's whole traumatic incident, but he does know that Team becomes dependent on him. Team is reluctant about asking Win to have sleepovers every night. He doesn’t want Win to think he’s just hanging around and using him to go to sleep. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome and he doesn’t want Win to just drop him and move on to the next person. He realizes he actually likes Win.

Now Win has no problems with accommodating Team at all. He really enjoys this newfound closeness with Team. Normally people depending on him annoys him because they expect too much from him and he doesn’t like feeling obligated to someone. BUT with Team, it’s not an obligation he WANTS to take care of Team and he WANTS to be that comfort for Team. He even offers Team a key to his place so he can just come and go freely.

I think that Win fell in love with Team first. Like I said he was instantly attracted to him and he likes being the person that Team has come to depend on. He wants to look after Team and help him work through his trauma. He wants to give Team all the love, and time, comfort, and security he can. He offers himself to Team because Team doesn’t demand anything from him.

I think Team fell in love when he realized there was more to Win that just a mischievous and horny person. Team likes that Win responds to him with warmth and openness. He feels most secure when he’s together with Win and he wants that security all the time.

He might find it difficult to admit but he wants to be with Win for as long as he can and we saw a glimpse of that in their famous ‘Broccoli-Kale-Mistletoe Kiss’ and also Team revealing that he believes in soulmates and he likes romantic gestures. He wants stuff like that from Win but he doesn’t think that Win wants to do that kind of stuff with him and he doesn’t feel confident enough to ask for it. He doesn’t even feel completely comfortable with asking Win for a hug to go to sleep at night.

The thing is that Win is more than willing to give Team ANYTHING but he wants Team to say it with his chest. He wants Team to be firm and confident and until he gets that he’s going to tease and poke fun.

They do fall in love but Win is waiting for Team to come to him confidently and Team is reluctant because he feels Win won’t take him seriously.

wow this is long and again I don’t think I answered this the best way but WinTeam have such a great dynamic and I just love talking about them.

#winteam #teamwin #uwma #until we meet again #between us #between us the series

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bestepisode · 1 month

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Vote on more episodes here!

Episode descriptions below the cut.

Out of Mind, Out of Sight: When an invisible menace starts attacking students and faculty at Sunnydale High, the Scooby Gang traces the problem back to Cordelia.

Forever: With some help from Spike, Dawn attempts to bring Joyce back from the dead.

The Gift: As Glory prepares Dawn for a bloodletting ritual that will open a portal to another dimension, Buffy and her friends prepare for battle.

Goodbye Iowa: Tension erupts between Buffy and an ailing Riley as they pursue Professor Maggie Walsh's killer.

The I in Team: Buffy teams with Riley after she is allowed access to the Initiative; Spike is targeted by commandos.

First Date: Buffy accepts an invitation to dinner from Principal Wood, and the secrets of his past are revealed. Xander impresses a beautiful girl with his knowledge of rope, and she seems to be interested in tying him up. Meanwhile, the First contacts Andrew in another attempt to destroy the Potentials, and Giles finds himself tongue-tied with the new Potential, Chao-Ahn.

Help: Buffy begins a new job as school counsellor at Sunnydale High. On her first day she encounters a troubled young girl who is convinced she is about to die.

Get It Done: The Scoobies use a spell to transport Buffy into a shadow world, where she meets the men who created the first slayer. However, in order for her to return home, the gang must find and slay a ferocious demon

Smashed: Willow turns Amy the Rat into her old self; Jonathan, Warren and Andrew steal a diamond; and Spike discovers something unexpected about Buffy.

Fool for Love: After being bested in a fight by an ordinary vampire, Buffy asks Spike to explain how he killed two Slayers many years earlier.

The Yoko Factor: After joining forces with Adam, Spike drives a wedge between Buffy and her friends. Meanwhile, Angel's return to Sunnydale leads to a violent confrontation with Riley.

I, Robot… You, Jane: Willow's new Internet chat buddy turns out to be a powerful demon electronically unleashed from a centuries-old, newly digitized book.

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #btvs best episode #btvsr1

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redsamuraiii · 1 year

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5 Crime J-Dramas You Could Watch

Investigation dramas that have a good mix of seriousness and comedy with strong chemistry among the casts.

1) Hakozume ~Tatakau! Kouban Joshi (2021)

Pic by Tokyo Hive

20 year old rookie police office Kawai Mai (Mei Nagano) joins the police force out of family expectations for her to be a civil servant and as such she does not have the right motivation to push through when things get tough when she becomes physically and mentally drained.

Feeling unappreciated serving the ungrateful and rude citizens, she contemplates her life and considers quitting, until she was assigned to an enigmatic and fearless senior officer, 30 year old Fuji Seiko (Erika Toda) , who is said to be a former ace detective who was demoted.

After going on patrols with Fuji, Kawai became inspired by her driven nature and wishes to be like her. Over the course of the series, they solve numerous realistic ordinary cases that everyday police officers faced, unlike the typical armed robbery cases you often see on TV series.

2) Tengoku to Jigoku: Psychona Futari (2021)

Pic by IMDB

Mochizuki Ayako (Haruka Ayase) is a determined and passionate 35 year old who is the only female detective in her department that she works hard to earn herself a name and seek justice to hunt down law breakers like the shrewd Hidaka Haruto (Issei Takahashi) who often gets away with his crimes.

Ayako has come close to apprehending Haruto under the full moon when something mysterious happens that knock them both unconscious. When they re-awakened, they discovered that they have swap bodies, much to Haruto's delight. Now Haruto in Ayako’s body is arresting Ayako in Haruto’s body!

The game begins as one tries to outwit the other as Ayako tries to buy time to figure out what happened and how to get her body back while Haruto takes the opportunity of being a police officer to frame Ayako for the crimes instead so that when their bodies switched, Ayako will be arrested instead of Haruto.

3) Unnatural (2018)

Pic by Drama Wiki

Misumi Mikoto (Satomi Ishihara) is a forensic investigator who works for the special department that investigates unnatural cause of death, solving dead-end cases or re-opening cases due to requests from police departments or family members of the deceased who wants a full closure .

She works with her team of misfits of different characters and backgrounds, from arrogant veteran investigator who has record breaking of solving numerous cases to a young part time officer, fresh from school who wants to work to gain experience and learn the ropes of becoming an investigator .

I think it is the most interesting show out of the five here as each episode are like puzzle solving where the story start off with one assumption leading you think that it might be this case but halfway through it makes you think that it might be that case but eventually it turns out to be something unexpected.

4) Hello, Detective Hedgehog (2017)

Pic by Asian Wiki

Goro Nanase (Eita) and Kyusaku Kogure (Go Morita) are private detectives at Akatsuka Detective Agency, which is led by Kaoru Kaze (Tomoko Yamaguchi) . They handle dead-end or weird cases that the police do not want to handle, from corporate conspiracy, to treasure hunting and ghost sightings.

On their bad days when they are struggling to pay the space rent of their agency, they even perform non-investigative cases like fulfilling strange requests from clients which eventually turned into a genuine criminal case when some mishap happen along the way.

Their days of being private detective changes when they assisted Ranko Shidawara (Kyoko Fukada) who believes that her father was murdered and did not commit suicide as the police and company led her to believe. Their antics alone are worth watching as it's meant to be a lighthearted show.

5) You're Under Arrest (2002)

The story revolves around two police officers, Natsumi Tsujimoto (Misaki Ito) and Miyuki Kobayakawa (Sachie Hara) . Being an officer is not as glamorous as you would think, just like any other jobs, there are the good days and there are the bad days on the job, dealing with difficult people and challenging tasks.

Although they are with the traffic police department, but their line of work often cross path with criminal in progress activities that they decide to take matters into their own hands instead of waiting for the respective back up team to arrive which cause jurisdiction problems with the other department.

I love their complex relationships as they have opposing personalities, mindset and way of doing things, which makes them conflict each other from time to time but once they learn to set aside their differences to work together, they're an unstoppable pair.

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solomonvidal · 1 year

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𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 | 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Solomon Vidal 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 35 years old 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: March 29th, 1987 ( Aries, Capricorn, Scorpio ) 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍: In the rural outskirts of Bradford Springs 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : Security at Decades Night Club ( where he also sells narcotics for the Mendez family ) 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: Cut-off t-shirts and muscle tanks. Hoodies and sweatpants. A near permanent scowl. All black clothing or otherwise wearing neutrals. Questionable tattoos on neck, hands, and body. The scent of Burberry Hero. 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Early mornings, weight lifting, watching sports, alone time, writing letters, taking cold showers, being outdoors 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒: Nosy people, liars, slow drivers, tourists, people who can’t handle their liquor, the police 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒: strong willed, disciplined, resourceful, adaptive, independent 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒: stoic, unforgiving, serious, evasive, private 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Bisexual

𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐎

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐖

- Grew up just outside of Bradford Springs in the neighboring county. His father was elected to county sheriff and grew hungry for power, raising his son with an iron first. Solomon and his father rarely saw eye-to-eye, but as his only son, he still felt the pressure to please him.

- Though school wasn’t really his strong suit, in high school, Solomon’s team takes state championship titles and is celebrated by the town. It’s the first time he really feels proud of himself, and feels the pride of his family, too. However, he’s just not good enough to earn a scholarship, and he didn’t have the grades or the interest to pursue college in the first place. He feels his only option is to follow his father’s path, joining the police force right out of high school.

- In the few short years he serves as an officer, he discovers just how corrupt the police department is. Solomon’s father ran a drug trafficking operation out of the sheriff’s office, and the state government chose to turn a blind eye, as long as they got a share of the profit. He’s complacent in it, and eventually, his father teaches him all the ropes. It’s not long before he’s as guilty as the rest.

- Overdoses are on the rise in town, and concerned citizens work to expose his father’s operation. An informant names him and other officers in the sweep, but the son of the sheriff makes for the perfect scapegoat. He narrowly avoids the fifty years to life sentence for drug trafficking when his lawyers enter a plea deal. If he chooses to give up information on their suppliers and the distribution as a whole, his sentence would be reduced to thirty years for possession with intent to sell.

- Solomon ends up serving thirteen of the thirty years of his sentence, from 2007-2020, mostly in a federal prison in Chicago. He’s released early as a nonviolent offender, in what he assumes is mostly a move to free up important bed space.

- When he’s released, he feels he has no other choice than to return to his family home in Bradford springs. His father now rots in federal prison for his own crimes, and his mother has built a new life out West. For awhile, he worked dead end jobs in Bradford Springs, taking whatever part-time position would actually hire felons.

- Recently, he began working as security for Decades nightclub and the Mendez family at large. He acts as the bouncer, but more importantly, he sells drugs to party goers and turns the profits over to his employers. In return, they pay him handsomely, and make sure to keep his record clean.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

There are tattoos covering Solomon’s arms, hands, and body, most of which were poked on to him in prison. Some have come out much better than others, and some he’s covered up since he got out. Admittedly, he get some strange looks on occasion by the older, more conservative residents of Bradford Springs.

Though he wasn’t a police officer for very long before getting locked up, the training has stuck with him throughout the years. He’s a pretty good shot, trained and proficient with standard issue police pistols and semi-automatics. It’s one of the reasons the Mendez family hires him as security.

Behind bars, there was plenty of time for him to bulk up and develop a serious fitness routine. It’s something he maintains now that he’s out, too, becoming something of a gymrat during the day.

The new salary he’s become accustomed to brings Solomon more material comforts than he’s ever known. He’s been enjoying buying designer sneakers, top-shelf liquors, and a brand new Ford Bronco to drive around town.

So much about the world changed while he was locked up, and sometimes he still feels like he’s playing catchup. Though he’s been out for a few years now, there are often pop culture references or current events that he just doesn’t understand. A quick google search on his phone ( which, don’t even get him started on how much those things have changed ) often solves the problem, though his list of movies, music, and news to catch up seems forever long.

#still working on that wanted connections link pls hold #intro

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equestrianempire · 2 months

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Tuesday News & Notes from Kentucky Performance Products

Today’s the day – the day that entries officially open for the Best Weekend All Year at the Defender Kentucky Three-Day Event! It’s time to start stalking those entry lists, making your predictions for who’ll come forward, speculating over who’ll perform so well that they’ll chuck themselves straight into contention for an Olympic call-up… the most beautiful time of the year, in my nerdy mind, because at this point, anything could happen. The plot twists, the moments of glory, the shock upsets; they’re all still to come. I, for one, cannot wait. Want to make sure you’re there to catch all the action? You can still benefit from advanced ticket pricing – head to the box office here to nab yours.

Events Opening Today: Defender Kentucky Three-Day Event, Spring Bay H.T., Unionville Horse Trials, Longleaf Pine H.T., F.E.N.C.E. H.T., Twin Rivers Spring International

Events Closing Today: Ram Tap National H.T., Pine Top Spring H.T., Ocala Winter II, Carolina International CCI & H.T.

Tuesday News & Notes from Around the World:

So often, equestrian media is dominated by names from ‘big six’ nations. But beyond those global superpowers, there are so many riders breaking down barriers and playing a colossal part in building an equestrian industry in countries for whom competing on the world stage is a brand new novelty. One of those? Lithuania’s Aistis Vitkauskus, who we’ve been following at EN for a few years now. Get to know him, his cool, quirky Commander VG, his philosophies, and his love for fly-fishing in this profile from the FEI.

This year’s MARS Badminton Horse Trials is a special one. Okay, let’s be real, it’s Badminton – they’re all special! But this year, the world’s first five-star celebrates a big birthday, and we’re looking forward to all the celebrations of the history and future of this magical competition. Want to start feeling those butterflies nice and early? You’re in luck: on April 9, there’ll be a preview evening in Gloucestershire, packed with some of the biggest names in eventing and guaranteed to be heaving with fascinating stories and interesting insights. Get your tickets here and I’ll see you at the bar.

Costs continue to rise for eventers, and so it’s always exciting when a chance to save money pops up. That’s what’s been offered by British eventing organisers BEDE Events, who have launched a ‘loyalty scheme’ for repeat competitors: compete in five BEDE events through the season, and at the sixth, you’ll have your start fee waived. More money for cheesy chips! Sign me up, tbh.

The season is officially underway, but there’s so, so much left to come. Catch up with US Eventing in the latest episode of the USEA Podcast, where host Nicole Brown is joined by EquiRatings’ Diarm Byrne, USEA CEO Rob Burk, and President Lou Leslie to find out how they reckon it might unfold – from team predictions to exciting moments yet to come, and plenty more besides. Tune in here and get excited!

Photo by Lorenzo Castagnone, via Unsplash.

Sponsor Corner: We have some unfortunate news for equestrians out there…. if you’re not already experiencing mud season, you will be soon. With mud season comes skin problems. Luckily, Kentucky Performance Products has the quick and dirty facts on equine skin conditions. Discover how to prevent them from happening in your horse and what to do once they appear here.

Watch This:

As if eventing at the top level and vying for a place on the French Olympic team wasn’t enough, young British-based upstart Gaspard Maksud — who you may remember from his sparkling sixth place finish at the 2022 World Championships — has spent his winter learning the ropes around seriously beefy showjumping tracks. Check out his first-ever trip around a 1.50m course:

#Eventing

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milady-pink · 9 months

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Rosewood Manor

Summary: After discovering the truth about what is happening to the Manor’s residents, Christine seeks out Erik to ask some questions, but leaves with more than she started with; not to mention death claims another guest.

Warnings: death, drowning, murder, strangulation, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3122 || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Complete Series

AO3

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Chapter 9

That was the first day Christine had a panic attack, and her second was in the morgue at Rosewood manor.

She sat on the cool stone floor, with the white tile on her back. Without realizing it, she scooted away from the table, the body, the dead body of Piangi that was very much real and not fake. Her breathing had taken a laborious toll, lungs hungry for air that hasn’t the flavor of death in it. Christine tried to calm herself down by looking up at the ceiling, trying to count her breaths, anything to distract from the fact that a dead body was in the same room as her.

The beach, think of the beach.

As she closed her eyes and tried to imagine a warm breeze filling her lungs, golden sand in her hands, warm water swaying over her feet. Eventually, Christine gets to twenty-five breaths by the time she has caught her breath. Carefully opening her eyes, knowing what to expect, she took in her surroundings again. This time the metal doors and white tile aren’t as scary. The steel table however, made her stomach churn. Cautiously standing up on shaken legs, she disposed of the gloves in a metal trash can, and walked right out of the hallway.

Back to the living.

Because of today’s brunch there was no lunch to be served, but a charcuterie board was made to appease the guests' hunger until dinner. Served on a rustic wooden platter were some slices of meats, cheeses from different parts of Europe, fruit, olives, nuts, and assorted crackers. Due to her discovery, Christine made a small pile of crackers to help her stomach, put off from eating anything for the foreseeable future.

Raoul waved her down to join himself and Jamie, sitting on some chairs placed in front of an elegant fireplace in a u shape. She sat down, placing her crackers on the equally formal coffee table in front of her, next to Raoul with Jamie on the far end. Her movements were slow, but her mind was frantic. What should I do? Who do I tell? Do I call the police? Will they believe me? So caught up in her onslaught of questions, she missed the one Raoul asked her.

“Christine?”

“Huh.” She snapped her head up.

“Uh, I asked if you were feeling okay. You look a little sick.” Both Raoul and Jamie had a look of concern for their teammate in their eyes.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just, th-the makeup was really good. Award worthy,” she answered with a weary smile. Raoul gave her one more look over before he continued asking Jamie details about the last known whereabouts. Christine barely listened; instead she made the decision to keep acting like this was all a game until she could talk to Raoul alone. She trusted him, he would know what to do.

For the rest of the afternoon the trio discussed how Piangi could have died. They came to a conclusion, after listening to what the others found at their location, and putting their minds together. Christine sat quietly, listening to her team, but when it came to her turn of detailing what she found, she froze. Taking a deep breath, she recalled what she found; the rope marks around his neck, and whiskey on his breath. Not a word was spoken about how it was a real body or how everyone remaining in the house sat in the hands of a serial killer.

“Alright, let’s go over the events before dinner. We really gotta nail this one.” Raoul ordered with a gentle but sure smile.

“Piangi sneaks into the wine cellar when everyone else is asleep. He discovers he was locked in after indulging a bit on the hard liquor.” Started Jamie, a shimmer of confidence in her eyes.

“Right, then that recording I told you about played, and informed Piangi the key is in one of the various bottles.” Raoul continued, looking to Christine for what comes next.

A deep breath. “After looking around, he found four bottles with keys. But, instead of drinking them, because he smelled of whiskey, he just pooped them down the drain in the corner.” She let go of the remaining air in her lungs, proud that she didn’t faint or throw up from the reminder.

“Yes, finally, after trying all four, he finds the correct key and leaves.”

“Only to be strangled in his room,” ended Jamie, “poor guy.”

Once they finished Christine remained silent and motionless, not knowing what to do and not wanting to scare anyone with her knowledge. Raoul thought everything sounded good, so he declared the meeting over, and promised to see them at dinner. Jamie left saying she was gonna drop red herrings to Sorelli and Andre about what was found in the morgue. Waiting until Jamie left earshot, Raoul leaned in to Christine.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he soothed, “we’re gonna get this one. I feel really good about what we found.

She looked up at him, the oceans in his eyes calm and sunny, reassuring her at once. “Raoul,” Christine began, “I have to tell you something.”

The oceans took on a scared look, making her want nothing but to be engulfed in his cologne in a hug. “Anything Chris, you can trust me.”

Taking what felt like the umpteenth deep breath of the day, she began to tell him what happened in the morgue. “Raoul, the deaths, they’re real. Piangi is really dead.”

At first he lost some of the concern in his eyes. “Christine, it’s just makeup, I’m sure he’s fine.” This made her slightly angry, that he didn’t believe her and simply brushed aside her words.

“No, Raoul, he’s really dead. So are the others,” she urged, “someone is killing us off one by one, like it’s a game.” Then she went into how she knew, without a doubt, about her father and the deathly chill that haunts her dreams. For a long time he simply stared at her, a sudden realization hitting his face, that she was telling the truth. For a while he stared at the floor, before speaking with a sure voice that gave Christine a sense of ease.

“Okay, this is what we’ll do; we have to expose him before he gets to us, beat him at his own game.” She gave him a skeptical look so he continued. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any suspicious behavior, just to make you feel better, okay?”

Christine thought for a moment before reluctantly agreeing to the plan, with only one question in mind. “But Raoul, who is ‘he’?”

He gave her an incredulous look like it was obvious. “That butler, clearly.”

By the time dinner was served, Christine Daae was a royal mess. She was jittery, anxiety pouring out of every pore of her body; not that many people noticed. For the most part she kept her cool, the only obvious sign that she wasn’t alright was her unusual silence. Christine was never much of a chatterbox, but her ill-fated discovery has made her retreat to her mind, trying to come up with a plan for survival.

Ever since she was a young girl Papa Daae installed in his daughter the drive and tools of survival in the modern age. He taught her how to count and save money, teaching the more complex terms like “direct deposit”, “compound interest”, and “annual percentage rate” when she got older. This drive stemmed from the fact that since her birth, the two Daae’s never had much money and what little they did own had to be spent wisely. Gustave prided himself on being very good at the sport of saving, mostly because Christine had a wonderful childhood even without some of the material goods; they learned to cherish memories and handmade goods rather than store-bought ones. So what if she never went to Disneyland as a kid, she got to stay at a half-off beach cabin in the winter because no one wants to stay there when it’s freezing outside. Except for the DeChagny’s whose holiday party theme was “Christmas on the beach”. Even when she grew up and discovered why her father took her to the winter beach most years, those memories have stayed with her forever.

Apparently, the need to survive financially also crosses the threshold of surviving a mass murderer.

Finally given a break from her worrisome thoughts, a plate was placed down in front of her. She remembers vaguely hearing something about spinach and feta stuffed chicken with a garden salad on the side. Her stomach rumbled, reminding Christine that she hasn’t fed it since lunch; which consisted mainly of crackers. Eating ravenously, she had to remind herself to slow down or else suffer a stomach ache later. The herbs paired perfectly with the crispy skin of the chicken breast, and the salad dressing made Christine think it had to have been house-made.

Unfortunately, after dinner came the notecards, and the remembrance of what lay in the morgue; just beneath their feet. For the life of her Christine couldn’t put to words what Jamie and Raoul recapped earlier. Starting to feel a migraine coming on, she tried her best at articulating what she meant to say. Even if it was an oral exam she would fail, putting too much pressure on herself by being reminded that the outcome of a bad score was her life.

For better or for worse, the note cards were collected, and put Christine out of her misery. Once again, the knife, the letter, and Erik’s soothing voice all made an appearance afterwards.

“Poor piggy Piangi. As if it wasn’t already obvious, the big boy quite enjoyed the finer foods, and drinks, of life. Too bad that was what eventually led to his demise. It was by chance that the previous night he asked dear Erik where the Manor’s whiskey is stored. He’d gone too long without some hard drinking, champagne tasting like water to him.” Erik’s voice carries across the table like a cool summer breeze, when you need it most. But it seems Jamie is none too happy to be the recipient of that wind. I forgot to tell her about Erik’s involvement. Well, I’m pretty sure I’m in way deeper than you, girl.

“After waiting until nightfall, he made his way down to the cellars, and greeted some old friends along with new acquaintances. Once he had had his fill, not an easy task by any means, he tried to retreat back through the door from whence he came. Thankfully, I provided some valuable knowledge, using an old recorder to accomplish the job. I told the fat cat that his answer lies within the very same reason he was down there. By looking through some bottles, he finds four that are filled with wine, and keys.” The continuous harassment of Piangi and his body, even after his death, was really starting to irritate Christine.

“But, rather than indulge himself further, he pours the liquor down the drain in the corner of the room. Or rather he had not a taste, instead only a waste. With the proper key in hand, he opens the door and goes his happy way. That is, until he returns to his room only to be surprised with a noose around his pudgy neck. He met his end with a larger than life appetite, giving him a larger than life grave.”

When he finished Christine couldn’t have been bothered to look up the entire time; her gaze remained on the spot in front of her where her plate once was. She felt utterly numb, not the good kind, but the kind of numb that your body puts itself into to escape what is going on around you. Detached and scared, with a startling feeling of relief; no more bills, no more tears, seeing Papa again.

Stirring her from these thoughts was a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, two calming seas are what saves her from drowning. She also realized that most of the other guests had retired; save them two.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, kinda tired is all.” Lying to Raoul felt like kicking a puppy. Someone who genuinely cares about her wellbeing, and here she is lying to him.

“Well, I hope you sleep well tonight.” He squeezes her shoulder once for support, before starting to walk out of the dining room. Before he walks out the door, he turns half way back and says, “remember Christine, this is all a game.”

No it’s not, Raoul. Instead she gave him a tired smile while saying, “I know. I’ll try to remember that.” Not wanting to fight or try and convince him, feeling rather expired from the day.

Finally getting up from the table Christine makes her way to her room. But, before getting too far, she notices a black figure move near the front of the house. Decidingly, she listens to her gut and quickly walks down to confront him.

With his long legs, and swift stride, it isn’t until an impasse between a hallway and the library that Christine finally catches up to him.

“Erik,” she starts, “Jamie is really scared that she might be the next victim.” She didn’t know why she had said that. Technically it wasn’t a lie; she did notice the flaxen haired girl eat very little at dinner, and squirmed relentlessly while Erik disclosed Piangi’s death. But why not come right out with it; why not say these people are really dying and I’m terrified that I might be next.

Because she remembered Raoul’s words about him earlier.

Christine forgot how truly tall he was, from watching him at the end of the table he seemed less intimidating. But after stopping in his tracks, turning around to face her, and closing a bit of the distance between them, she felt uneasy. I should have brought Raoul with me—anyone.

“And what do you suppose I do with this information, Miss Daae?” Miss Daae? What happened to just Christine? He asked in such a way that sounded like he had no one to report to, no upper management. It might be her nerves but Christine also felt his voice took on an edgy tone, far from anything that would be considered conversational.

“I-I just thought you should know,” she explained. Then, without really knowing why, she disclosed to him her terrifying discovery. “Erik, they’re really dead. Piangi, all of them, it’s not makeup or a game.”

“I know” he states, as if everyone in the Manor was aware.

Feeling alarmed but not threatened, she asked in a pitiful voice, “isn’t there something you can do?”

Just like earlier outside the morgue, the visible side of his face takes on a look of deep sympathy. Perplexing, seeing as how Christine was fearful of him not moments ago. He opens his mouth, two thin barely pink lips, before closing again. After a thoughtful pause, he answers. “I’m afraid that you and the others are not the only ones being played in this game.” He gave her his amber gaze, molten gold with the setting sun, before taking off.

Leaving Christine staring after him, more questions than answers after speaking.

Sleep evaded the panic-stricken Christine that night. It was nearing midnight and her eyes were still open, albeit dry and bloodshot. Sitting up in bed, trying desperately to calm her mind as a war raged on. If she went to sleep, the killer could strike, easily entering her room; and she doubted very much that her screams would save her before it’s too late. On the other hand, she could stay up all night and risk being picked off because her fatigue has dulled her awareness.

Stay up, or go to sleep, that is the question.

In the end, she ends up going over to the window chair, picking up her book again letting her brain decide whether she falls asleep or not. Before getting too comfortable though, Christine saw a figure standing by the pool. Standing up to look closer, she notices they are wearing a long blue towel wrapped in a turban on top of their head. Illuminated by the glow from the water’s light, their outfit looked familiar, like something she saw not too long ago being worn by…

Sorelli

From where she stood, Christine watched Sorelli stand by the pool’s edge, before another dark figure appeared. Struck with terror, Christine ran from her spot by the window to her room's door. She sprints down the hallway to where Raoul said his room was, and starts to frantically knock on his door.

“What the devil is going on out here?”

Turning, Christine sees a disgruntled Andre wearing a striped sleeping robe. Without wasting too much time she simply says, “Sorelli”, before taking off down the main staircase.

By the time she got to the pool, it was too late.

Floating face down in the cool summer evening was Sorelli, dead.

Christine felt tears of frustration seep into her eyes, feeling accountable to what happened to her friendly colleague. She knew about the killings and couldn’t stop this one from happening; it was her fault the fire in Sorelli had been extinguished.

Hearing footsteps on the stonework patio, Christine turns her head to see some of her fellow residents of the Manor. Joining her by the poolside, Andre and Raoul took in the scene that lay before them. Raoul, still in his pajamas, trudged over to stand next to her.

“Was this why you were knocking on my door?” He asked with a sorrowful tone.

Christine nodded, then recounted to him that she saw her standing right there from her window. A solemn silence hovered over their heads, only to be interrupted by a distant voice.

“I just don’t get it,” he stated in an addled voice, “I swear I just saw her not an hour ago.”

“What in God’s name is going on?”

All three heads turn to see Sorelli, in the flesh, with a satin robe and her long dark hair braided down her back. Instead of anyone answering, all three faces contained unbridled shock; they were staring at a ghost, it was the only plausible explanation.

Still confused by what was going on, and unable to see the body floating in the pool, Sorelli asked another question. “Where’s Jamie?” Voicing that question made the three guests turn yet again towards the body. As if on cue by a movie director, the wind picked up causing the water to flow a bit, carrying with it the body's towel; revealing flaxen hair darkened by the chlorine.

Jamie was the fourth victim.

#phantom of the opera #andrew lloyd webber #erik destler #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik x christine #christine x raoul #murder mystery #foodporn #musical fanfic #musical fandom

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