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silversatoru · 3 years

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Hello! I wanted to request for a chubby reader x Levi oneshot. I feel like there aren’t many stories that have chubby readers ): As for the storyline, I’m not sure if it falls in the angst or hurt/comfort category. It would be the reader feeling insecure about themselves because they have a harder time training than the others (them blaming it on their own weight) and seeing how everyone is much thinner than them, they start avoiding food. To not make it look suspicious, they’d go into the kitchen alone and put the food away along with the left overs. The reader would act normal with Levi and he doesn’t suspect anything at first. Later on, the reader would push themselves harder to the point where they’d train on their own whenever they had to chance so they can lose weight and improve their training. At this point, Levi starts noticing the reader looking paler than usual and the slight difference in their weight. One day during training, the reader ends up fainting from exhaustion and dehydration. They wake up on Levis’s bed with him looking over them. He asks what happened and the reader lies by saying they didn’t drink enough water. Levi calls it bs and ask if they think he’s stupid and goes on to tell them about how they noticed the reader sneaking off into the kitchen with a plate and coming out without it. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but he started putting the pieces together. They end up telling Levi the truth, the way they feel towards themself and how they don’t like the fact that they’re bigger than Levi. He comforts the reader and lets them know that they’re an idiot for thinking that way, etc. Thank you! I’m so sorry if it sounds so cheesy!

hello dear!! i dont think your idea was cheesy at all, i love it actually. these kind of issues live very close to my heart, so writing about them is always really fun for me. that being said,, this fic definitely got very dark and very real, and i would advise everyone to read the warnings before deciding to read this <33

empty

levi ackerman x gn!reader

synopsis: levi catches you skipping meals and does what he can to help

tags/warnings: eating disorder, skipping meals, hurt/comfort, but it does have a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

Throbbing headaches and hollow, gnawing pains in your stomach — they’ve quickly become your new normal. You see everything through a hazy fog these days, nothing feels real and everything hurts but it’s worth it — that’s what you keep saying to yourself. You’re tired of lacking the same agility, momentum, and grace that your thinner counterparts have.

Your weight was always something that ate away at the back of your head, but joining the scout regiment multiplied it tenfold. You were constantly working twice as hard as your fellow scouts, and it seemed like it was never enough. Everyone around you was not only ridiculously athletic, but so fucking thin. You didn’t hate your comrades for their bodies and the way they were born, but you made up for it by inflicting all of the hate onto yourself.

You wonder if anyone notices your zombie eyes or the abnormal paleness to your face — god, you hope they don’t. The last thing you want to do is have to confront your feelings and admit what you’ve been doing lately. Every night you shamefully sneak back into the kitchen and pour your plate of food into the large pot of leftovers. You pick at food here and there when your friends are watching, but behind closed doors you haven’t eaten much of anything lately. Your body is running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before it fully catches up to you.

You hear your last name echo from across the training fields, slowly turning around to see an angry captain sulking towards you. His face was twisted into an unpleasant grimace, his eyebrows knitted together into what almost looked like concern.

“I’m excusing you from the remainder of training, leave,” his words were flat, but there was a subtle emotional edge.

“Sorry, what?” you gave him a confused look — Captain Levi never excused anyone from training, not unless they were practically on their deathbed.

“Go home, and eat a big dinner tonight, your energy has been less than adequate lately,” his face softened slightly, “I expect you to be back to normal by tomorrow. Your skills and abilities are needed here, so go get some rest and be better tomorrow, yeah?”

“But, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with some kind of valid excuse.

“That’s an order, cadet”.

His words surprised you, and before you could even rack your brain for an appropriate way to respond, he was turned on his heels and walking away. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry and stuffed full with anxiety.

Reluctantly, you followed his orders and made your way back to the Scout’s base early. You grabbed a stack of fresh clothing from your room before heading to the showers and scrubbing yourself free of all the sweat and grime from training. You were careful to avoid mirrors when you navigated bathrooms, and tonight was no exception, your eyes glued to the tiled floor. After showering, you hesitantly walked to the kitchen, preparing a plate of food and bringing it back to your room.

That food stared you in the eyes for hours, taunting you and teasing you and making intense nausea creep up your spine. Tears were stinging the backs of your eyes and your lungs were shaking with heavy, anxiety-filled breaths. You couldn't do it, and you were overwhelmed with shame and guilt. If you couldn’t do it for Levi, you were hopeless that you’d be able to do it for anyone, never mind for yourself.

After making countless pitiful attempts to take a bite of your untouched meal, you decided it was going back into the leftover pot — just like everything else. The other scouts should have returned and been sleeping by now anyway, you’d just silently creep down the hallway, dump the food, and creep back, no harm no foul.

Except for that a certain short, dark-haired captain was standing at the end of the hallway — you didn't notice him, but he certainly noticed you. A boiling anger rippled up inside him as he felt an overwhelming disappointment in your actions. He’d been suspecting this kind of behavior for a while now, but watching you tip-toe down the hall and into the kitchen with an uneaten plate of food confirmed all of his suspicions.

You could barely crawl out of bed the next morning, your ribs aching and your head pounding with a dull pain. You grasped at your tall dresser, catching your balance as you dangerously swayed back and forth for a few seconds. After regaining consciousness and stability you carefully changed into your uniform, having to stop and take breaks every few seconds because you were running out of breath. Your body felt utterly devoid of any kind of energy, and you wondered — when was the last time I actually ate something?

It was far enough back that you couldn’t quite remember, maybe a few days at this point, you really weren’t sure anymore. You’d have to suck it up for training though, because the last thing you wanted was to be confronted by the captain again.

You chugged back a full glass of water before lacing up your boots and throwing on a convincing facade. People don’t seem to notice something is wrong as long as you're smiling, laughing, and going along with what they say — it’s easy enough to fly under the radar of your fellow scouts.

Levi’s radar is a little sharper though, and he keeps a close eye on you from the second you walk up to the training grounds. He’s disappointed in your hand to hand combat — it’s sloppy, slow, predictable. Your hands look shaky too, and maybe it's the light playing tricks on him but it looks like the color is draining from your face.

Things are feeling deplorable on your side — you can barely stand anymore, never mind throw punches or avoid the oncoming attacks. Your vision was starting to tunnel, foggy black surrounding your periphery as you began to lose feeling in your fingertips. You tried desperately to cling onto whatever semblance of consciousness you had left, but failed miserably, your body collapsing to the hard earth beneath you.

The soft glow of warm candles illuminated the walls around you when you finally woke up from the earlier incident. This wasn’t your room, where the hell were you? You uncomfortably shifted to the side and flinched when you saw your captain sitting in a chair in front of you. His arms were crossed and one of his legs was propped on top of the other, an icey look in his eyes.

“What happened today?” His words were very short and his tone was flooded with irritation — he didn’t even give you a chance to take in your surroundings.

“Ah- I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, “And maybe I haven’t been drinking enough water or something”.

“I’m offended that you think I would fall for such a pitiful lie,” He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I saw you sneak into the kitchen last night, how long have you been doing that?”

Your eyes grew wide with anxiety, your heart abruptly dropping to the floor — you made sure to go extra late last night, why the hell was he still up?

You stayed quiet for a moment, pondering over how honest you should be with Levi right now. The two of you had always been a little closer than he was with the other scouts, but unfortunately there was no room for things like love in this world. You also assumed that maybe he never reciprocated your feelings because of your weight — but that was just more toxic fuel to the fire blossoming in your head.

“Pretty long,” you sighed, ultimately deciding to be fully honest with him, because knowing Levi, he’d continue to see right through your lies anyway.

“I figured,” He grumbled, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, “Why?”

“Everyone around me is thin, I stick out. And, I’m not as agile or flexible as the other scouts either. I just thought that maybe...,” you bit down hard on your bottom lip, rolling onto your back so you wouldn’t have to look at him, “I thought my weight bothered you too, and also that I’d be more useful to the scouts if I was skinnier”.

“You think I’d like you better if you were dead?” Levi was leaning closer now, heat boiling in his eyes, “Because that’s where you’re headed right now. If you truly think you’ll be more helpful to the scouts when you’re six feet under, you’re delusional. And who the hell gave you the idea that your weight bothered me?”

His harsh words were cold slap in the face, your eyes burning and threatening to spill over with tears. You didn’t want to die, not really, you just didn’t want to hate yourself anymore.

“No one! I don’t know, I just thought, maybe because I was bigger than you-,” You continued to stammer over your words, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved you off, not wanting to push the issue further, “You’re wrong, and I’m hurt that you’d even think that. I’ve never once thought that you were anything other than the way you should be”.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was weak and shaky, but your heart was pounding against your chest at his words.

“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, that’s something you owe to yourself” he shook his head and stood up to retrieve two small bowls of food from a nearby table, “I brought you something to eat”.

You watched him intently, pondering over his words about apologizing to yourself.

“It’s only a bowl of soup, so you can start small, yeah?” He offered one of the bowls to you, which you hesitantly took into your hands as you sat up.

He sat down again across from you again, leaning back and taking a sip of broth from his bowl. You were grateful that he was here, that he was eating with you — it made things a little easier. You grasped the spoon in your hands and scooped up some brothy vegetables before lifting them into your mouth.

“Good, finish the bowl,” nodded at you, giving you a reassuring look and lifting his own bowl to his lips again.

The two of you ate in silence until you were finished, and then he sat the bowls back on his nightstand before finding a seat next to you on his bed.

“Stay here tonight,” he stared at you with his signature tired eyes, but there were hints of concern laced through them now, “We’ll have breakfast together in the morning”.

“Okay,” you gave him a weak nod, trying desperately to bottle up your growing emotions, but they were becoming too much to bear.

Small sobs began to rack through your body, your chest tightening and your stomach lurching with anxiety. You were experiencing so many feelings tonight — eating for the first time in days and being here with Levi, it was overwhelming to say the least.

You could barely see the captain through your blurry vision, but you could feel his arms maneuver themselves around you and pull you against his chest. You stayed like that for a while, Levi’s arms delicately holding you in place while quiet sobs worked their way out of your lips.

“You’ve dug yourself into a deep hole, I won’t lie to you,” you heard him let out a tired sigh, “And it’s gonna take time and effort for you to dig your way out, but you’ll get there. We’ll start by having breakfast and dinner together every night, how does that sound? Just you and me, no one else has to watch”.

You nuzzled a tiny nod into his chest, your tears finally running dry. It was a terrifying thought, eating normal again, but you were starting to feel hopeful that you might actually be able to do it.

And so the two of you met every morning and every evening for your scheduled meals, and day by day things began to get easier. You even found yourself staying over in Levi’s room after dinner and into the morning for breakfast sometimes. Spending so much time together was definitely pushing the two of you to address the feelings you’d been hiding for so long.

But not everything was perfect, it would be irrational to think it would be. You still have bad nights, where eating is so hard you break down into tears, and where you want nothing more than to rid yourself of the food in your system. It’s a draining process, but Levi works hard to make sure you stay on track with your progress.

It’s slow, but eventually your face starts to glow again, your skin gets smooth and soft, and the aching pains in your body start to fade. Your war with your body is far from over, but you’re doing what you can, and you’re healing yourself one day at a time.

thank u for reading this, and now i would like to give you a gentle reminder to do something nice for your body today. eating disorders and mental illnesses are huge mountains to climb over, but taking things one day at a time makes it a little easier. try and eat a meal today (even if it’s small), go to sleep early and get some rest, take a shower and rub lotion all over your legs so they feel nice against your blankets when you lay in bed. baby steps are better than no steps at all, so be patient with yourself. n go drink some water, ur body loves that shit

#attack on titan #attack on titan levi #attack on titan x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x gn!reader #hurt/comfort #angst #levi hurt comfort #attack on titan x gn!reader

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

transferred part 20 - atla smau

part 19 | masterlist | epilogue

summary: trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

a/n: me when i have to write more than 5 words in a series thats supposed to be a smau

anywho! basically the last chapter?? which is crazy?? filled with heartfelt emotions and the moment that you've all been waiting for, it's a wild ride. so strap in and enjoy. the epilogue will be posted later today so i can finally wrap this series up!! and dont worry theres a super long sappy authors note on the epilogue. LETS GET INTO IT

wc: 2.3k

warning(s): cursing, mentions of alcohol, hurt/comfort, one suggestive comment, mentions of toxic relationships, reader talking about her self sabotaging behavior and burnout, Bad Coping Methods (dont disappear kids)

“You haven’t seen her?” Zuko sighed as the same words he had heard on repeat for the past hour played through his ears again. “It’s alright, thank you. Have a good night.”

He shook his head at his friends, their defeated expressions mirroring his own as he leaned against the kitchen island. He ran an exhausted hand through his hair, and he couldn’t help but think of the countless times you had done it for him.

“Your sister doesn’t play when it comes to theatrics,” Aang lamented as he plopped on the couch next to Sokka.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “I mean, she doesn’t pull stuff like this. Sometimes she went over the top when she was younger, staying out a little too late or doing something stupid, but she never just… she never just tried to disappear like this. I.. I guess she was too worried about Katara and me to do anything like that, but still.” He knocked back the rest of the seltzer and tossed the can on the table — alcohol was tempting, but none of them wanted to be any less than completely aware tonight.

“We all knew she was hurting,” Sokka continued. “Not even she could be fine after everything that happened with Hahn, especially the day after, but I— I guess I thought that she would open up before just dropping off the radar completely!

“No news from the girls,” Aang announced, prompting a collective sigh from the other two boys. “I gotta give it to her, she’s been very thorough with this.”

“Of course she has. It’s classic Y/N — she can disappear without a trace, sure, but she can’t put enough effort into picking up some supplies for my project on her way home.” It was a lame attempt to lighten the mood, and though he got a weak chuckle out of Aang, it was radio silence on Zuko’s part.

“Hey, buddy.” It didn’t snap him out of his reverie, and Sokka seriously contemplated throwing his empty soda can at him. “You okay?”

“She didn’t even say anything to me,” he finally murmured, eyes trained on his phone screen. “She said she would tell me if she was having a hard time, but she didn’t say anything to me. Just suffered in silence until it got so bad she just up and left. She just… left. Without a single word to anyone. To me.”

Aang’s eyes softened and he let out a loose exhale. “Zuko, she didn’t mean to hurt you — I know that much. She’s just been under a lot of stress lately, and… I guess it didn’t manifest in the best way.”

“Stress...” he muttered, trying to piece it together. There was something nagging at the back of his skull, something on the tip of his tongue, but he just couldn’t get it. “And you guys are sure she hasn’t put anything anywhere? No texts that you missed, nothing?”

“Believe me,” Sokka said. “I’ve refreshed her pages a thousand times by now. It’s radio silence on her side. God, I wish I was more invasive and put like, a tracking device on her car or something! For all we know, she could be back to Kyoshi.”

Kyoshi. Stress. This whole thing, your disappearing act.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Zuko stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over the stool in the process and warranting puzzled looks from both of his friends as he grabbed his keys off the table and practically ran to the door.

“Zuko, where are you going?” Aang questioned.

He tugged the door open and shot a glance back at them, tension having noticeably dissolved from his shoulders.

“I know where she is.”

Zuko tapped idly against the steering wheel, once again glancing down at his phone screen but to no avail. His relationship with you had become infinitely more complicated since the kiss through fault of both of them — he supposed that was what happened when two people who didn’t know how to talk about their emotions caught feelings for each other. Zuko was very skilled at sticking his foot in his mouth whenever he tried to talk about anything like this, and

But you had accepted his offer to talk on the way home, so that meant something.

He had originally suggested just talking on the way home like he had proposed earlier, but you had a different idea. ‘Trust me,’ you had told him. ‘It has a good track record with making people feel better.’

Your proposition was a wildflower field on the outskirts of the city, just out of the way that someone would go en route to the university. Far enough from the city to emanate an aura of peace, but close enough to be a feasible trip.

“I found this place when I was missing home,” you smiled as he parked the car. “I love it here, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I just feel homesick for Kyoshi. You passed a field like this on the way into town, and when I stumbled here, it just kinda felt like fate. So now whenever I’m stressed, or overwhelmed, or just need a break, I come out here. And I think this is the perfect place to talk about… well, whatever’s going on with us.”

“Sounds good.” He returned the sentiment then cleared his throat. “As long as we don’t go in there. I can admire it from afar, but just looking at that field is making my skin itch.”

You laughed and nodded amiably. “Deal.”

One hand was splayed against your chest, the other trailing lazy circles with the pads of your fingers against the metal as you gazed up at the sky. You had the best and only seat of the view, the flora drifting softly in the night breeze as the stars twinkled from above.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, being here. The past couple of weeks had just been… crushing you. It was like your heart was stuck in a vice and no matter what you did, it just got tighter and tighter.

You had been treating everyone you knew horribly, but you couldn’t stop. It felt like a game — how terribly could you act towards them until they snapped too? Until your friends, your siblings, Zuko, recognized that they had made a mistake by trying to help you?

And you didn’t know what it was about today, but… something inside of you just broke after that morning with your roommates. So you did what you were best at, and you ran. Skipped class, skipped work, just drove around aimlessly until even that was starting to feel like too much of a trap.

And then you ended up here.

It would’ve been laughable if you weren’t on the verge of breaking down.

You had been here, just laying on the hood of your car parked a few feet away from the field on an off road path, for the better part of an hour. If you were going to drown underneath the weight of your thoughts, it was better to do it alone.

But as you heard the crunching of gravel underneath car tires, your eyes instinctively shot towards the noise — so much for being alone — and you sat up. Your brows furrowed in recognition, you knew that car, and it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest when Zuko stepped out.

“You remembered,” you breathed after a moment of silence. “You’re here.”

“Always.” He said it so obviously, so easily — why wouldn’t he remember? Why wouldn’t he be here?

You scooted over to make space on the hood and patted the space next to you softly, pulling your knees up to your chest in a moment of shame as he walked around to the front and pushed himself up next to you. What were you going to say to him? What could you say?

“I’m sorry,” you said out of the blue, your words pouring out of you like an emotional waterfall. “I’m sorry for just— for just leaving, I know it was stupid and I know they’re all probably worried out of their minds, but I couldn’t do it, Zuko. I-it was like I was trapped, and I know it was irrational, but I had to get out of there—”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly, effectively stopping your rant. “If you really had to get out, you could’ve at least said something to one of us. I don’t know what things were like back at Kyoshi, but here— here, you can’t throw yourself back onto the knife every time something goes wrong, because— you just can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not mad, believe me, I’m relieved that you’re okay. I just..” he sighed and glanced up at the night sky, the light of the moon illuminating his features as he faced you once more. “I know you’ve felt alone before, but you’re not. You have Katara, and Sokka, Suki, Toph— you have me, Y/N! And I’m not going anywhere, trust me, but— but you can’t keep doing this to yourself, because they care about you, and I care about you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and chose to concentrate on the hood of the car, tapping your fingers against the metal as a way to use up your nervous energy. “You’re… you’re right,” you said after a long moment of silence, the beginnings of a mirthless smile on your lips.

“After that night at the party, I just— I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. There was a part of me that just wanted to lock myself in my room and never come out, but I— I told myself I was better than that, and I refused to let myself fall back onto any of it. So I worked. I took extra shifts, I helped out my professors, I did anything and everything I could to try and keep my mind off of Hahn. But I wasn’t helping anything, I was just… I was destroying myself. It was just like you said. I was a candle burning at both ends but still convinced that I was doing the right thing, and eventually.. I just couldn’t take it anymore. So I ran.”

“And— there’s always been this… this voice in my head that pops up after things in my life are going good, and it tells me that something is going to go wrong. A-and it tells me that if I’m the one that ruins it, then I don’t have to ask myself what I did wrong, if I could’ve stopped it from happening— if it’s inevitable, then I should be the one to ruin it. It’s how most of my relationships ended, and— well, the only thing it’s succeeded in is making me miserable.”

You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until you feel Zuko placing his own over yours — a simple gesture asking an unsaid question, one you answer by intertwining his fingers with your own.

“That same voice popped up again once I started getting close to you,” you admitted quietly. “And this whole time, I’ve been so terrified of falling that I never considered you would catch me. But I’m tired, Zuko. I’m tired of constantly looking over the edge.”

As you turned your head to meet his eyes again, your breath caught in your throat at his close proximity. You were sure that no matter how much time you spent with him, your heart would never stop beating out of your chest for Zuko.

“I will always be there to catch you,” he affirmed softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like before, he brought his hand to the side of your face and tenderly brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hand, slightly calloused but emanating comfort all the same, lingered on your cheek for a moment before he posed the question.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and his lips captured your own immediately. You reciprocated with an almost desperate fervor and— and it just felt so right. You had grown so accustomed to the constant warmth he carried with him that it had become a part of you, he had become a part of you, and now a life without Zuko was just unimaginable.

He was right — he already was there to catch you, each and every time. Giving you endless rides when your car broke down, sitting through the world’s most boring anthro projects, letting you bare your soul to him, telling you it was all going to be okay when nothing felt okay, and managing to find you when you had gone out of your way to not be found. And all of it— it all made you realize.

You didn’t want to keep running. And you didn’t have to. Not anymore.

Zuko pulled away and pressed his forehead to yours, breathing slightly labored as the two of you sat in comfortable silence. That is, until you broke it.

“So,” you started, a nervous chuckle following. “Are we… are we a thing now?”

You could tell that caught him by surprise by the laugh that escaped him, a sound of unfiltered joy. “I’d say that we are.”

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks once more as he slid off of the hood of the car and held out his hand, an offering you took happily. “We should get home,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “It’s past midnight, and—” Zuko glanced at his phone and grimaced. “They’re all still worried out of their minds.”

“Right,” you muttered. “I’m gonna get the lecture of my life from Sokka and Katara.”

“Probably,” he chuckled. “But they’re just doing their job as concerned siblings.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and glanced back at his own car. “I’ll see you back at the apartment?”

You nodded, an uncontrollable smile pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Zuko. For this, and— for everything.”

He returned the sentiment, golden eyes filled with adoration.

“Always.”

if your name is crossed out it means i can’t tag you!

perm taglist: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin

transferred: @ourbestfriend-mishacollins @lil-lex1 @xxshad0wxb1rdxx @zuko-is-the-sun @akiris @irohs-teapot @thatarthistorynerd @charlenasaxen @minninugget @marvel-ousnesss @count-thotticus @what-ye-egg @furblrwurblr @thesstuff @mariachiii @ietss @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @xbarrjallenx @tommy-braccoli @dreamsluvrr @floofybread @thelovelylolly @lin-biefong-is-my-life @tiffanyy-21 @sistheselenophile @theincredibledeadlyviper @bakugouswh0r3 @loganrwebb @mikaslilworld @matsunshine @iris-suoh @aizameow @h3llbun @kozuelle

atla: @marianne1806

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shurelyasreverie · 3 years

Note

Me getting ready to request a valorant agent: 😎

Anyways, I know I already asked for something so hopefully you dont kind me doubling up, and if not do you mind if I request headcannons about Jett with a medic agent? Less Sage's magic healing and more stick them with a needle and sew them up with a thread kind of medic?

Me getting ready to write for a valorant agent: 😎

Don’t worry about the double up! I just got round to this request quicker since there are a lot less Valorant requests than League (don’t worry your League request will be coming 😁)

Also, I completely missed seeing 'headcanons' and wrote a drabble, then it grew into a oneshot omg. Hope it's still alright!

Injured!Jett x Agent!Reader: Not Alone

Jett's injured and you're the only one left to do the mission, but Jett's not going to let you go so easily.

Word Count: 1105

“Hold still.”

“It hurts.”

“Conventional medicine typically does,” you groaned as you held onto Jett's shoulder as she writhed in your grip.

It was all in good humour, but the other agents all laughed at your decision to take a first aid course. With healers like Sage and Skye on your side who could heal instantly with their abilities, bandages and anaesthetic were a thing of the past that only you and the older agents were versed in.

“Nah, nah, nah. Let me do all the fightin' and my fire'll heal me up just fine,” Phoenix explained.

“First aid? Oh no my dear, your intellect can be used on something far more useful, such as testing my gadgets!” Cypher countered.

“(Y/N), I am sure such skills are useful in their own way, but your time could be better used elsewhere,” Sova respectfully gave his opinion on the matter.

But now here you are on a duo mission with Jett, and her, being as confident and reckless as always, managed to get herself shot. Of course, Jett's health was the biggest priority but still... you couldn't wait to rub this mission in everyone's noses. First aid was useless, huh?

“You're lucky it was your shoulder and nowhere else,” you muttered as you wrapped her shoulder. The bullet did more than just graze her but did less than fully go through any crucial nerves. There was a lot of blood, but give it enough time and Jett will be right as rain.

“Both Sage and Skye are on missions of their own but they can heal you up fully when you're transported back to Protocol,” you stated as you started to bandage her wound. She pouted, slouching in defeat, occasionally hissing as the anaesthetic kicked in in waves. Certain times the stinging was too great and her hand was latching onto your forearm, holding it tightly as she gritted through the pain. You watched her sympathetically, stopping for a moment until she gave you the nod to continue.

“And what will you be doing?”

“I'll be finishing the mission.”

“You can't do that,” Jett exclaimed, standing up in outrage. “You're going to end up worse than me!”

“I don't randomly rush into the field,” you retorted and Jett hesitated.

“At least take me with you. Use me as bait or something, I can handle it.”

“No way.”

“And no way you're going alone!”

You pulled back for a moment, meeting Jett's crystal eyes. The two of you locked in a glaring battle, seeing who would relent. Jett was known for being stubborn, but unfortunately for her, you could be just as stubborn if you wanted to.

“Protocol gave us a mission, I'll get it done. We've faced worse.”

“We've faced worse as a group. What, are you going to suffocate them with your bandages or something? Stick a needle in their eye?”

“If that gets the job done,” you mused as you fastened the bandage to her shoulder, holding it still before Jett tried to do anything funny with her wounded arm. You kept her at eye level. “You're hurt, Jett. Go home, I'll see you there.”

“It's only worth it when you're there,” Jett huffed. She plopped back down on the box she was previously sitting on. “I'm staying here.”

“Yes, until Brimstone comes to pick you up.”

“No. Look, I can stay here and make sure this camp's safe while you go out and complete the mission. I've got a sniper rifle, I'll cover your back.”

“You can't safely fire a gun with that much recoil with that shoulder,” you pointed out.

“I'll use a pistol then.”

“From that range, it's useless!”

You rubbed your temples, pacing back and forth. “Jett, please. Just listen to me, for once. It's best you go back to headquarters. That wound isn't a problem now but I can't guarantee it won't get infected or anything.”

“Now you're just making stuff up.”

“Am not,” you groaned. Was Jett really that used to instantaneous healing she didn't know about infections?

“(Y/N), this place is nice, but not nice enough to die in. I'm not letting you die here.”

“I won't let you die here either,” you snapped. “A sniper shot is a sniper shot. We know how snipers think and act. It's a marvel they only got a chunk of your shoulder and not your head. You're already toying with death, I don't want you to do that again.”

“We didn't get to take down that sniper,” Jett replied, frustration evident in her voice. “They're still out there, and they could shoot you next. I don't want you to go through what I did, or worse.”

“You've done solo missions before, why won't you let me do this alone?”

“Because I like you, dumbass!”

And when the bombshell dropped, the dust settled, and the two of you were engulfed in silence. You, stunned as you stared at Jett in disbelief, Jett staring back but she was showing signs of cracking under your intense gaze. She started to chew on her lower lip, her face growing increasingly hot. Her voice came out timid.

“Say something. Please.”

“I like you too.”

Well, what a turn of events. You cleared your throat as you struggled to bring yourself to move, Jett's eyes tracking your every move. Although you might've spontaneously confessed to each other, the tension still didn't die down. There was still the imposing thought of you going out there, alone. You pondered for a few moments.

“I'll ask Brimstone to send in Reyna and Breach and they'll help me see this mission through, deal?”

“... deal.”

“How's the shoulder?” your voice noticeably softened. Jett shifted slightly.

“It'll do. It's not like we're doing anything until Brimstone comes. And, uh...”

Jett's eyes darted from side to side, seemingly checking for anyone watching, or perhaps she just wanted to look everywhere except for your face as her face started to redden. Searching her surroundings, she started to get closer to you as you watched her with curiosity. She stopped when she was right in front of you, any closer and you'd be touching.

“Thanks for the heal.”

She pecked your lips before using her ability to dash out of the scene. Stunned, you stood frozen for a few moments before shaking your head and chuckling to yourself. Jett was just as confident and reckless as always.

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #oneshot #valorant #valorant imagine #valorant x reader #jett #valorant jett #x reader #self insert #y/n #fluff #jett x reader #riot games #shurelyasreverie

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kishillaa · 3 years

Text

SSM21 Day 11: Safe and Sound

This promt is the continuation of my SSM21 Day 10 promt.

***

"He was killed?"

"Yeah."

"Who did?"

"Some Konoha girl."

Snorted, "Didn't think Sasori would be defeated by a female."

"I wouldn't look past that. She is the Fifth Hokage's apprentice. Sakura Haruno if I'm not mistaken."

"I haven't heard about her."

"Meh, she's young. Anyway, I heard Sasori's henchmen is after her. She was able to create antidote for his famous poison. They went rage and wanted to kill her."

"Of course they will be. His poison is what kept them strong all this while."

"True. But I don't think they know though. The Konoha people."

"Sasori do works in secret. No one exactly knew he has a group of his own. If you weren't one of 'em before, we wouldn't have known either."

"Sneaky one, I must say."

The conversation Sasuke had accidentally heard during one of his mission for Orochimaru played in his mind.

There is only one female with pink hair in the village he left behind.

Sakura.

Sasuke was panting rather heavily, as he looks over the mess before him. A few of older men laying on the forest floor, at the brink of their death after the ever so furious Sasuke Uchiha, knocked them out of their breath, killing each and everyone of them.

It's been 2 years, and knowing the pink haired ex teammate of his were in danger, that she isn't aware of, knicked him off making he went reckless and find the pursuer at the boarder of the Konoha village. He was lucky he found them first, or else he might be the one laying on the ground, waiting for death calling for him.

He was furious, more to himself than anyone else. He had severed the bond, he was sure of it. But why, just at the mention of the pink hair konoha kunoichi made him do things he doesn't want to, things he should not necessarily do. Sure, they have started exchange letters by his summon, but he still doesn't want to have anything to do with her for now, until his goal is fulfilled.

Sasuke let out a defeated sigh, before he move away from Sasori's henchmen.

As if has the mind of their own, his legs and body makes it way through the forest towards Konoha hidden village. He quickly move to the top of the building when he reached the village at midnight.

From where he is locating, he can see that Sakura's window is widely open as if inviting him in.

Without further ado, he move using the roof and hop onto an electrical post to have a better view into Sakura's room.

He can clearly saw Sakura's sleeping figure as she sleeps with only her head peaking out of the blanket while the other part of the body was covered under it.

She looks distress, rather than calm in her sleep made Sasuke couldn't help but go closer and got into her room.

As if sensing Sasuke's presence, Sakura's head tilted to his direction.

Sasuke hold his breath and wait to see her reaction. When she didn't make any move after that, Sasuke let out a relief sigh.

He moves closer, standing beside her bed looking down at her trouble looking sleeping figure. Slowly, Sasuke sit himself on her tiled floor and stare at her sleeping face.

And then, "S–Sasuke - k-kun."

It was so faint, he almost couldn't hear it but of course he knew she was saying his name.

"P-please dont go." She mumurs again.

Sakura blinks, and when she did it for third time, she sees Sasuke. It isn't really Sasuke she knew though. Sasuke she remembered from her dream doesn't look as matured as this, and he usually wear a dark blue shirt that he often wore during their genin days. Sakura quickly dismiss the widen eyes Sasuke, thinking that its another dream.

Sakura groans, as she stretched out a little.

"You're up."

That voice makes her stop mid stretching, as her head snap to her side. "Sasuke-kun!"

She sat up so quick that her head went buzzed with dizziness. She hold it and wince, "Oww."

"Slow down." He said, somehow amused.

At that voice, she look at him. Biting her lips as tears of happiness and longing pooled in her eyes, she lunged herself at the Uchiha, bringing him into her embrace.

She was crying, that was obvious, "I missed you so much." She said in between her sobs, tightening her hold on him, afraid that he's going to leave her too soon.

"I should go back now." Sasuke said.

"I know. Ju–just let me hug you a second." She heard him sigh before he complies and circle his own hands around her. One of his hand is lowering her head to under his chin as he sniffs her hair.

"Your hair smell different, again." He mumbles.

"No, not really. I'm still using the same shampoo, but I just got back from the hospital few hours ago so the smell must've mixed with antiseptic or something." And then she cries harder, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you're coming, if I do I would've shower and wash my hair with that shampoo you like so much, but I just went out of a 24-hour shift and I was just so god damn tired, and one of my patients just died, and I could've save him, but I couldn't." And now she is crying with a whole different reason.

When finally, finally, her cries subsided, Sasuke spoke, "I don't mind. And I don't like them so much. It was just pleasant than this one." She likes how he purposefully left the dead patient out as he runs his fingers through her unruly hair. It always soothe and calmed her when he did, and he knew that.

She whines again, saying something she thought as I could've smell way better than this. Liking the way his hand combing her hair. A wave of nostalgia hit her like a tsunami as their secret moment as genin plays in her mind, if possible, she tighten her hands around him even more. She was just so glad Sasuke isn't one to complain simple stuff like that.

When they were in their kind-of-dating relationship, Sasuke has always sniff on her hair, he once revealed that he likes her smell, it was floral green shampoo which smell minty rain forest. She unfortunately had to change her shampoo to a coconut with vanilla scented shampoo when Pakkun said he use the same one. It traumatised her to use the same shampoo as a dog.

"It's still your smell." He heard him say as he breaths in her scent again causing the heat move up to her face. She pulls away gently to look him in the eye.

Before she utters a single word, Sasuke spoke, "You were hunt by Sasori's henchmen."

Sakura's eyes widen at the news, "What? How do you know?"

Sakura watch as his shoulder moves up and down slowly, "I have my source."

"From Orochimaru?"

Sasuke shakes his head, "No. They didn't even know Sasori was dead."

She nodded, feeling relieved, if Orochimaru knew, their chances went lower to zero to put up to their idea in finding his hideout, "Good. I have to be careful, then."

"There's no need. I killed them all."

This time, Sakura's eyes widen again in surprised, "What?"

"You heard me."

"I know, but why?"

He rolls his eyes and scoff, "Because who else is going to clean the Uchiha compound if you're dead." he deadpan.

The sarcasm lacing through the sentence was so loud that Sakura has to laugh, "You're such a dork, Sasuke-kun."

"Hn." Was his smart boring response.

"Do you have any injuries? I can heal you."

"Just small cuts hear and there. I'll be fine." But Sakura insist.

"Please, let me show off my improved skills while you're away."

And show off she did.

"You're good."

Sakura beamed, with small blush covering her cheeks, "I've learnt from the best."

"That's good, then. I can't seems to regret leaving you now that you're able to heal and kill at the same time."

"Sasuke-kun, don't say that. I will always wanted you stay. It feels so lonely when I sat at the dock few weeks after your departure, that I had to stop going."

Sasuke didn't voice out anything after that as they sit in silence.

"Thank you for coming tonight,"

Sasuke shrugs, "Just want to make sure you're safe and sound."

Sakura's teeth sunk into her lower lips as a sob makes it way out of her throat, he's saying goodbye. Without very much of a warning, Sakura cup Sasuke's cheeks, angle her head and capture his lips with hers.

Her tears cascade down her cheeks at the nostalgic way Sasuke went rigid at her sudden attack before he kiss her with just the same intensity. His lips is still as soft as she remembered, he's still a little bit stiff at the beginning of their kiss, and still so furiously good as they went by.

When they pull apart, both were breathing so hard as their forehead attached, "I love you, Sasuke-kun. I still do. Always do."

"I know," He said, and then, "Thank you, Sakura." All she can feels is a soft peck on her forehead while her eyes focus on the whirling of tomoe of Sasuke's sharingan, bringing her to a deep slumber.

#ssm21 #ssm21d11 #sakuraharuno #sasukeuchiha #SasuSaku #ssm21d10 #promt #drabble #kishillaa #kishillaawriting

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

I am not a writer. Nor am I a person who posts stuff online,if at all rarely. But I am capable of typing and I am legally allowed to say that I have won a high school writing contest in my 3rd period English class in Sophomore year.I am still,what they call,VERY RUSTY.Take that as you may,but never in my life have I read an anonymous ask that has made me be burts into a desire to want to write down a bunch of story ideas of a dream that stranger had and then share it to another stranger online, to reply to publicly to about 100 more other strangers online. But none the less I STILL want to share to you sone of my--headcanons??--ideas??--bullshit dream story plotline??--(idk)-- I'll try to keep it limited because i don't want you to end up reading a rant novel-

I like to think that this //reader link? I'll just use y/n as a stand in i guess for this character or reader ??sorry if you dont like it,you can change it if you want?//before meeting The Chain Links *tm,she use to have a lot of problems being a #femaleheroinduringmediaveltimes but not in a way that most might see?I don't believe she would have really care for other people's opinions on the matter because she sees it as something very trivial and people will alway find a reason to look down on you and she also wasn't exactly let off easy for it during her training to be the hero of her kingdom.Even if she didn't want it,she was already destined and chosen for this path regardless of any possible sexist belief anyone had to offer.Her being the destined hero and needing to be strong enough to fight against Ganon was the utmost important thing on the to-do list,So bullshit like that was not accepted and they made sure it was in grain into her brain.

"Don't believe your enemies will ever go easy on you no matter what you are".

Most of the problems she would struggle as female I think ,would be on more on the biological side of things,for example like getting her period but being forced to have to truck though them anyways because she was a hero and it meant that you couldn't just take time off from your responsibilities and duty as Hyrule's saviour "just for some bad cramps" when you have lives to be saving and a world that needs to be protecting.So she would just not show any sign of complaint to the others about it or even let alone tell them about it and it just always seemed like from the outside that she would randomly just get super quiet and little withdrawn for no reason every month or so with a sort of tired/vacant look in their eyes?Anon also mentioned them having more of a military knight background and assuming she had been trained to or at least has lead troops into war/battle before,she could definitely be one of the teams best strategist along side with Warrior Link.I can definitely see them getting closer because of this as they're usually chipping in plans together and coming up with ideas/plans with what the best ways to use everyone on the team's special skills for certain position/roles during possible future battles.But a little bit after the whole "river" scenario i can definitely see legend sort of yell at her like

"wtf you is a girl and did not tell??? eXPLANaTiOn?????" "Because i didn't think it mattered??" "iT DoSe MaTtEr! ThAtS a bIG tHiNg!!"

There would definitely be a bit of an intervention with everyone to talk about the issue from "before". Maybe some what after everyone had gotten redressed and suddenly didn't feel like bathing anymore. After that everyone seem...awkward. No one knew exactly how to continue on with the revelation,so they all just stayed quite.At first she mistook this as a sign that everyone handled it well,she tried to continue business as always.While everyone was packing up to head out,she'd suddenly feel everyone's eyes.... Looking at her. When she turned she everyone just minding their own business.Maybe it was all just in herhead.The rest of the walk seem almost dead quiet.The once cheer mood of chatter was now replaced with an awkward tension filled with only small side glances,little quiet whispering from behind and an inability to look her in the face when she tried chatting with anyone.Is this what it was going to be like from now on?No of course not.They wouldn't let something as trivial as this get in the way of their relationship,right?they were still friends,right?

If you have the ability to but the stories in your head into recorded words then that makes you a writer.

No, I will not take any criticism on this matter.

This is beautifully thought out and it was a joy to read. I had to read it out loud out of fear that I would miss something entirely but I'm glad I did.

I would imagine it to be difficult to be on her period simply because when you're traveling there's no supplies to help out or lessen the situation! No cotton, no pain killers, not a lot of hot water to begin with... And yeah, she wouldn't say anything about it because a soldier wouldn't have the time to take care of it, let alone a hero.

She would also be the most used to blood on her clothes out of the group I think at this point. Just takes it upon her self to clean their clothes because they never seem to be able to get all of it and they don't know what they're doing even if she were to tell them how.

The boys think it's some magic technique but no.... it's just experience.

But the reader here that you mentioned would have had good teachers for burning it into her brain that it doesn't matter what body she has or what other people say because she the hero. She was born for this and there's no pleasing any one anyway. the best way out of this is to do the job and make sure you can get out alive.

What I want of the last paragraph is for her to get a little mad and question what the hell s wrong with everyone and then for someone to reply that it would have been disrespectful to look without direct permission because she would have deserved better than that. Like, they're fine with each other because they all have the same parts so like no big deal, but for them so openly show her themselves, verses her being seen openly.

I think it'll be a mixed bag of them being embarrassed that they were seen and that they saw her.

I think the ones least effected by it would be Wind, Warrior and Hyrule. Hyrule, because there's no like no people in his world so he doesn't have the same perception as the others, verses Wind who would probably be weird in the beginning but promptly not think too much on it because he has a sister at home and would help her bath when she was younger, verses Tetra who has had multiple shirts torn in the middle of battle- so who cares?

I was originally going to put Warrior as one of the most effected but I've played the game.... There are so many female warriors so if they got hit in the boob and needed attention then you take care of it. no questions asked and you move on with your day end of story.

The most effected would probably be Time, Twilight and Sky.

Time and Sky because- holy cow, I have a significant other, what am I going to say if they find out I saw another naked woman? Nothing. That's what. I'm a dead man if they ever find out.

Twilight because he was raised with his respect woman juice for breakfast and would have gladly turned away and oh my god- my mom is not going to like that I just didn't do anything this entire time and she's going to think that I just stared like some degenerate and what do I do now?

I think this is a fun concept and I don't mind exploring it more, but I'm beginning to suspect that I'm going to need a tag for the dream saga aren't I?

#pinky replies #Dream Anon #thank you for this #and thank you #Anon #for sharing your thought and contributing to the project #I appreciate it greatly made my night #Mulan! Link

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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

Text

Fighting For Tomorrow: Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Still haven’t bought AOT but I’m working on it!

AN: this. is a doozy of a chapter- i know. lots. and lots. and lots of words. but DAMN if i didnt love every part of it. however! if you guys prefer smaller chapters please please please dont hesitate to say something. seriously. id love to write you guys more frequent, smaller chapters but if you guys like the longass, slightly infrequent chapters then they shall continue. just say the word bby. also i felt kinda poetic in some of these sections so if you see reader gettin fancy with her verbage, don’t trip. that was my bad.

Reiner x Fem!Reader, eventual Captain Levi x Fem!Reader, Sasha x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 10k (i finished this at 2 am today before class and nearly passed out at the sight ‘10,008 words’ when i pulled up my word counter. CH-YOW this a big boy)

TW: gore/blood/violence/death, adult language/swearing, slight PTSD, mental anguish, self-harm, grief, nightmares, insomnia, hysterics, horse accident

You can read parts one, two, three, four, and five just by tapping the lovely numbers!

The flames crackle and rage before us, engulfing our comrades’ bodies in scarlet and gold waves.

Engulfing Marco’s body.

Jean had found him. Just… laying there. Up against a building. No one had seen him die, no one knew how he died, just that he did. Marco- our comrade, our friend... my friend- just gone. Taken from us. There was no valiant deed. There was no heroism. There was no triumphant story. Nothing. He just… died.

And that’s the worst part.

He was taken from us and no one knows how. No one knows why.

Marco was one of the first comrades I got close to. We were competitive- always fighting to outdo each other. I’d train two hours, he’d train three. He’d pass the ODM test after four tries, I’d pass it in three. Back and forth, back and forth.

But if we faced something bigger than us- if there was an exercise we couldn’t quite pin down, if there was another Cadet giving us problems, if one of our squad members were injured- we’d always come together to beat it. It was always like that.

He was like my little brother.

I scoff at myself. They all are like my younger siblings. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, even Annie and Bertholdt. They’re all family and losing Marco… it was like losing a brother.

I did lose a brother.

My brother is among the flames- being turned to ash before my eyes. Marco is gone. Taken from me. Robbed from me. From everyone. His intellect, his kindness, his leadership. All of it gone. Taken from humanity.

We’re just kids.

Marco was just a kid.

All of us- bright-eyed kids wanting to do our best for humanity. To take back what was stolen from us. To serve humanity. We didn’t know how much hate, how much horror was waiting for us. To watch our comrades- our family and friends- be torn apart in front of us. To lose the ones closest to us in unspeakable carnage.

All we wanted was to do something for humanity.

All Marco wanted was to do something for humanity.

He was just a kid.

Tears are streaming down my face as we all watch the flames consume the bodies of fallen soldiers. I can hear the crackling of wood, feel the heat on my skin. But the crackling is distant and the heat is faint. My chest feels empty and cold.

I lost Marco. I lost Hannah. I lost Franz.

And I’ll never get them back.

But I’ll be damned if I allow anyone else to be taken from me.

The Commander roars and rages before us, engulfing us in his words. They burn and singe like fire as they cross the Cadets’ ears. I can hear them whispering among themselves- asking if he’s serious or if he’s crazy or already resigning themselves to the Garrison.

It doesn’t matter what they say.

I’m joining the Scouts. Commander Erwin’s words are a comfort, a pleasant yet caveat warmth. Like a candle sitting beside a curtain. I know what I’m signing up for. I’ve always known. But it doesn’t mean I’ll be giving it all up now.

“I’ve made my decision.”

My eyes turn away from the Commander, landing on Reiner’s form beside me. His gaze is still stuck on the Commander, back straight and shoulders squared. I turn my gaze back to the Commander- not wanting to be chewed out by a commanding officer for not paying attention. “...really?” I ask quietly, “Where are you-?”

“The Scouts.”

My eyes are back on him. “What?” I hiss, “Reiner, you can’t... throw away your shot at the Military Police- you worked so hard, why would you-?”

“Eren was right,” he says quietly. I can feel his chest fill with breath before he chuckles. “They don’t need our skills so far away from the walls. They need us where we’re at use- where the people are.”

“Rei, please, please,” I whisper, “Please don’t do this.”

“Why not?” Reiner chuckles again, “You want me gone?”

“It’s not like that,” I shoot back, “I just…”

“You just what?”

“...I don’t wanna lose anyone else.”

“...you won’t.”

“You can’t know that… I’m already worried about Eren and Armin and Mikasa- if I have to worry about anyone else-”

“You don’t need to worry about me, darling… Because we’re going to get through this,” I can feel his finger graze the side of my hand before his hand takes mine. “Together.”

A shaky exhale leaves my mouth as I close my eyes. “...together,” I whisper as shivers run down my spine.

“That’s right, darling.”

“...those who wish to join other divisions are dismissed.”

Shuffles of feet scurry past me as I remain. I can feel their gazes, their judging glares and confused looks. They mumble to themselves. ‘Insane’, ‘crackpots’, ‘suicidal’, ‘deathwish’. Nervously, I swallow and grip Reiner’s hand tighter.

I can feel his smile. Proud and bright like the sun. Warming like the sun. Relaxation smoothes out over my skin as I soak it in.

I’ve done it. Finally. After years of fighting and hoping and wishing and dreaming about this very moment, I’m here.

The crowd clears out and a scattering of us remains. My eyes dart to each of the figures in the hopes of identifying my fellow crackpots.

Reiner. Armin. Mikasa. Bertholdt. Ymir. Christa. Sas-

My heart stops.

Sasha. Connie. Jean.

What the Hell are they doing here?! They were supposed to join the Military Police. They were going to, weren’t they?! Why are they still here?! Why aren’t they walking away?

At the very base of my stomach, something churns. Quickly and violently.

I think I’m gonna be sick.

I’m already going to be looking out for Armin, Eren, and Mikasa- I came to accept that long ago- but now Sasha? And Reiner? Connie and Jean, too?

Most of everyone I’ve ever loved has just signed their hearts and bodies away to the Scouts- to nearly certain death.

There has to be a way to change their minds, right? There has to be.

...but there isn’t, is there?

They heard the statistics. They know how many have died in the Scouts. They know all the facts, all the dirtiest of details.

And they stayed.

Gods, why did they stay?

I’ll drag each of them out of here by their ears, kicking and screaming, if I have to. I already lost Marco and Hanna and Franz. I don’t think I could take losing them, too.

But if they truly want to- if they know the risk and want to dedicate their hearts just like I am… why would I stop them?

I should be proud.

They’re- we all are- dedicating ourselves to the better future humanity deserves. To the eradication of Titans. To the freedom we all hunger for.

“Very well!” Commander Erwin’s voice booms out over us. “I welcome you- the newest recruits of the Scout Regiment!” His fist slams against his chest in a tight salute, “This is my real salute! Dedicate your hearts to the cause!”

The group moves as one as we all strike our fists to our chests.

My eyes glide from the Commander to Sasha once more.

She’s shaking. I can hear her stifled sobs from here.

But she remains firm in her spot.

She’s made her decision.

And I can accept that.

I lay awake. Moonlight flickers through the window- inching towards the other side of the room. It’s late and I’m exhausted but even when I am, I can’t sleep. There’s too much screaming in my head. Too much gore. Too much carnage that I can only barely remember. The only things that do remember are my heart and lungs- hammering and pounding and stretching to the fullest in the wake of whatever nightmare slinked back into the recesses of my mind.

Reiner stirs in his sleep and wraps his arms around my waist. Tucking me into him, he sighs and buries his head into my neck. “...can’t sleep?” he mumbles. His voice is deep. Deeper than usual, with a gentle rumble to it.

“No,” I whisper back, shrinking into him.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I stay silent. No. No, I really, really, really, really don’t want to. Talking about whatever bothers me is like pulling teeth. It feels like a burden that I’m casting onto someone else. And with Reiner… he’s burdened enough already. He’s everyone’s big brother. Everyone’s confidant. He shoulders responsibilities and punishments for others- never once thinking about himself.

But he’s exhausted. All the time, exhausted. And he’s so good at hiding it. Even around me. But I can see it. The way his golden eyes go hazy at times, the way his shoulders sag and the way things slip his mind. The way he can become an entirely different person with terrifying speed.

It scares me how much I think he carries. Because when he breaks… it’ll be cataclysmic.

Reiner’s lips slide up my shoulder and neck, pressing gentle kisses against my skin. “...well?”

But maybe he’ll open up to me if I take the step first. Maybe I’ll show him that there’s nothing to worry about- that I’m not going anywhere and that he can talk to me about anything. Everything.

“...I’ve… I’ve been having nightmares.”

His kisses stop where they are, lips still pressed to my skin for a moment before pulling away. His grip on me gets tighter as he pulls me closer. Reiner lets his head rest in the crook of my neck and sighs. “...what about?”

I laugh quietly, letting my fingers trail against his forearm. “...I don’t remember most of them but… there is one that comes back… every now and then.”

“I’m listening, darling.”

Slowly, I take a breath. My eyes close as I remember the details of the dream. “...it always starts off the same… I’m in a throne room and there’s a person at my feet. Sometimes… it’s a woman and other times it’s a man and other times, I can’t tell which, but… there’s always someone at my feet,”

“And they’re always crying,” I whisper, eyebrows drawing together and I grip his forearm. “Sobbing and pleading for mercy. A-...And I…” My voice quivers as tears start to flow from my eyes. “I… just… I don’t even know, I just… I see this… light- red light- come from their eyes and they just… they convulse and thrash around for a moment- screaming and crying and begging- before… before they…,”

“...before they die at my feet,” I whisper brokenly, eyes open and staring out into the distance as the scene replays. “And when they finally die… I look up… and there’s… corpses. Thousands upon thousands of corpses, Rei… All piled up on top of each other and in writhing rigidity. As far as I could see- there were bodies- and… and somehow I know that… that I… I had… somehow I know that I was the one that killed them all.”

“I’m your squad leader, Ness,” the man before us states before clapping a hand onto the horse towering beside him. “And this! Is my horse, Chalet…”

My eyes drift away from him, blankly settling on the various horses in their stalls behind me. I’ve tuned him out… I should probably listen to whatever he has to say. But… I’m so tired. Another night of staring at the ceiling while listening to Reiner snore and watching Bertholdt contort himself into a coil across the room.

I don’t know how many sleepless nights I have left.

My body lurches forward slightly as someone nudges me from behind. I turn to face whoever it was. Jean is towering over me with a smirk on his face as he pretends to be watching Squad Leader Ness. “...what the hell was that for?” I mutter, facing forward.

“You were falling asleep again,” he chuckles quietly, “Another… late night?”

I scoff and shake my head, “You’re a child.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’.”

“No, Jean,” I hiss, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

I can feel him deflate slightly behind me. “...oh…”

“Yeah.”

“...I get them, too.”

“I really hope you don’t.”

Connie, standing beside me, scoots closer. “What’re we talkin’ about?”

Jean answers at the same time as I do. “Sex.”

“Food.”

Connie’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he risks a glance at me. “...huh?”

I sigh and roll my eyes, “We were talking about-”

“Did someone say ‘food’?” Sasha whispers excitedly behind me.

I sigh and roll my eyes again. “You three are-”

“Hilarious.”

“Your favorites.”

“Really hungry.”

Groaning softly, I shake my head at their responses. “Gods… I thought Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were a lot… then I had to get you knuckleheads thrown in, too.”

“Now!” Ness states, looking significantly more disheveled than he did a few minutes ago. Adjusting the bandana around his head, he huffs and stands up straight. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your dorms- and then you’ll be introduced to your horses.”

He walks off, leading us between the stables and the looming walls of the castle. My eyes trail up the crumbling stone- plants and vines and flowers managing their way through the cracks- and over the rolling hills dotted with trees. Sunlight floods the stone courtyard, basking us all in its warmth.

It reminds me of home.

Not Shiganshina- but of the modest cottage in the forest. I smile to myself, watching Sasha bother Jean with Connie’s help just in front of me. I remember playing with her in the trees. We made and marked that forest. There isn’t a tree in that entire forest we haven’t carved up with arrows and knives or with the undersides of our shoes as we climbed their roots and limbs. Sasha would be afraid at first- of foxes or wolves or falling or tripping. But as soon as I took her hand and led her to the sunlight, to the tops of the trees, to the very breath of the sky… she’d always hunger for more. To go to the brightest spot in the forest, to climb the highest tree, to scale the steepest cliff.

My smile starts to fade slightly.

She’s even more afraid than she used to be… did I cause that? Does she even remember? She was young when I left… Does she remember when she scraped her knee and told her that she was now one with the forest- that its blood was in her and her blood in it? Does she remember that first tree we climbed together? Does she remember the nights we would run barefoot around the dew-covered clearings in the heart of the woods with no light to guide us except that of the moon? Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

Will we ever get to go back…?

The group stops. Ness smiles at us and points down the hallway to our left. “Down this hallway are the boys’ rooms,” he points to the hallway to our right. “And down this one is the girls’.” He chuckles and turns back to us. “There is… one other thing.”

Uh oh.

“There’s only one bathroom.”

I stifle a groan. It’s a goddamn castle. How in the walls is that even possible- one bathroom, my ass.

“Well… only one that’s in good enough shape to be used, anyway. ‘sides the officers’ bathroom...” Ness admits, a sheepish smile growing on his lips as he rubs the back of his head. “You’re welcome to fix up the other ones, though! ...although, I think you’d need help…” Ness continues muttering more to himself than anyone else.

One bathroom. Unbelievable. I growl under my breath as Ness marches us back out into the courtyard. You’d think Captain Shortstack would be all over the renovations of this place- bathrooms included.

Whatever. It’s not like I shower when everyone else does, anyway. There’s always a possibility I could sneak into the officers’ bathroom like when we were in training… And there was that river...

“I can see you already coming up with a plan,” Sasha appears next to me, lowering her voice. “What’re ya thinkin’?”

I laugh softly, nudging her arm with my elbow. “Nothing regarding food.”

Sasha pouts slightly, “Fine… then what’re ya thinkin’ about?”

“Just plannin’ my way into the officers’ bathroom.”

“Oooh,” Sasha laughs maliciously. “Do you think they’ll have hot water?”

I sigh, closing my eyes and imagining the steam and feel of hot water cascading down my body. Hot water was a privilege in the Cadet Corps. ...one that was constantly being robbed from me. I’d mostly show up after everyone had already showered, praying that maybe I’d have even a moment to myself to unwind- and to not be stared at. And nearly every time, I bathed in freezing cold water. But there were a few times where I’d be wrapped in steam, delicate streams of hot water warming my frigid body.

...now that I think about it, those ‘few times’ were whenever Reiner would wake me up early to get in the shower before everyone else.

“Gods,” I mumble, looking at Reiner as he walks with Bertholdt and Annie. “I really hope so, ‘tato-muncher.”

As if he felt my gaze on him, Reiner turns around and smiles. I return the smile with a scrunch of my nose. Reiner’s eyes glide behind me for a second, returning to me before darting back behind me. I turn around to follow his gaze.

Eren.

Eren runs straight for us, green cape flaring out behind him as he charges towards the group. Our eyes meet and his pace increases. My hand latches onto Sasha’s sleeve and tugs, “‘Tato! ‘Tato, look!” I laugh, slapping Connie’s shoulder. “Look who it is!”

Connie and Sasha turn around and I can hear the others turn along with them. Armin and Mikasa greet him first, taking him into their arms and speaking quietly amongst themselves for a moment. When they break away, Eren’s smile widens as he looks over us.

“...you’re all here?” he asks quietly, smile slightly fading. “You all joined the Scouts?”

“Well, yeah,” I laugh, “Why else would we be here- shits ‘nd giggles?”

Eren rolls his eyes before scanning over us again. “Wait… if you’re all here… That means Jean, Marco, and Annie all joined the Military Police.”

My heart plummets like a rock into my stomach. That’s right. He wasn’t there for the funeral. He doesn’t know.

The remaining section of our group walks up behind Eren- Jean leading them all. Eren turns around and groans. “Not you, too.”

Jean doesn’t react. His face unreadable and voice flat, he rips the bandage off. “Marco’s dead.”

“...what?” Eren mumbles, “What did you just… What’d you just say? Did you say Marco died?”

Jean’s voice stays still as he continues.

“Seems like not everyone can die a dramatic death.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” I laugh, picking up a section of hay and starting back towards the stable. “We know everyone, every thing’s position in the formation except Eren’s- arguably the most volatile and important piece of information to have. That isn’t the least bit confusing to you?”

Reiner shrugs, taking the hay from my hands. “Dunno… I haven’t really thought about it.”

I huff and shake my head, stepping in front of him and taking the hay back. “I can carry it,” I mutter, looking at the ridges growing in his face. “And by the look on your face, you have been thinking about it.” I turn around, lifting the hay over the stable door and onto the growing pile just beside my horse.

My horse nudges me with his nose, huffing. I smile and rub my hand up and down his nose, “...needy, aren’t we?” I whisper softly.

“Ya gonna give him a name?” Reiner asks, patting his hand against the horse’s neck.

Peeking down under the horse’s neck, I squint up at him. “You didn’t answer me.”

Reiner rolls his eyes and walks away, sighing. “You didn’t ask anything.”

“I asked if you were thinking about why we weren’t being filled in on Eren’s location in the formation.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask,” he shoots back.

My eyes lock with his in an intense stare. “...we really gonna do this right now?” I ask quietly, still petting my horse.

Reiner sighs and looks away, running a hand through his hair. I turn back to my horse, letting my forehead rest against his cheek. Reiner sighs again. The three of us stand in silence- only my horse breaking the silence with occasional huffs and flicks of his tail.

“...I have been thinking about it,” Reiner finally mumbles. “But… not like you have.”

Here we go again with him being all cryptic and skittish and avoidant. I am so sick of this game.

“Then how have you been thinking about it, Reiner?” I hiss, lifting my head off my horse and looking into his large grey eye. “All the time- just when I think you’re gonna open up to me about what’s going on in that…” I sigh frustratedly, “That… that… stupid, thick, adorable, blond head’a yours you just… you shut me back out again. And it’s so goddamn irritating, Rei,” I admit with a slight squeak in my voice.

Slowly, I turn to face him, gaze dropping down to the ground. “...I’ve been… I’ve been so open with you. More open than I have with anyone in my whole life- except, I dunno... Sasha- but I just… It’d be nice to have some’a that returned.”

I can hear him get closer to me. Gently, his arms wrap around me and tuck me into his chest. I’m swallowed in his embrace as he runs his fingers up and down my back. “...okay,” he whispers, “okay, darling… I’ll… I’ll try and open up to you, okay? I’ll…” he trails off and sighs, tightening his hold on me as he places his chin on the top of my head.

“I know how hard it is, and… I… I’m not trying to force it out of you or anything… I just… I want to help you,” I whisper quietly. “And I promise you, Rei...I’m not going anywhere.”

There’s a coldness in his laugh. It leaves his lips like ice and falls to the floor like daggers. “Thank you, darling. Just…,” Reiner takes my shoulders, pushing us apart. His gold eyes have slightly lost their luster as they peer deep into me. I squirm slightly in his stare, eyebrows furrowing. “You have to understand that there is a lot happening- something... bigger, darling.”

I blink and tilt my head slightly to the side. “Did you… did you get another assignment?” I ask quietly, “Something under the table?”

Reiner is quiet for a moment, eyes flicking between mine. “...yes. Something under the table- from people higher than the Captain.”

My eyes widen slightly. Is this what’s been weighing on him for so long? That’s why he’s been missing at times? What he’s been trying to tell me? Another assignment that he can’t talk about, even with me-

Oh gods.

I feel like a total ass.

“Who…?” I ask quietly, taking note of the way he straightens up to scan around us before shrinking back down.

Reiner scoots us back, tucking me up against the stable door. “I… I can’t tell you but… you understand that, right, darling?” He asks hopefully, a small lilt to his voice. Gently, his fingers trail my face and a small smile crosses my face. His lips mirror mine.

“I understand that, love,” I hum, leaning into his touch. “I do… I do have another question.”

Reiner smiles wider, lovingly staring down at me. “What is it, darling?”

Nervous claws at my stomach.

I shouldn’t ask this.

Why? He’s finally being open with me- willing to at least tell me what’s wrong. Shouldn’t I-

No. There’s something bigger here. Don’t. Ask.

“__________?”

I swallow my fear and meet his gaze. “...I heard you the night after the first clean-up operation,” I admit quietly, “with Annie and Bertholdt.”

Reiner’s eyes darken, dropping down and avoiding my gaze. “...how much did you...?”

“Not much,” I laugh nervously, “Just you guys arguing about telling me… and Annie saying to only tell me when you’re sure of how I’d feel.”

With a sigh of relief, he closes his eyes and smiles. He quickly presses his lips to my forehead. “Okay, okay… Okay… Sorry, I just… I don’t need t’get... chewed out for that.” I chuckle softly, “So… that big’a deal, huh?”

Reiner laughs, “Yes. That big of’a deal.”

“...so… it’s you, Annie, and Bertholdt,” I mumble, picking at the leather strap running down his chest. “Anyone else that I know?”

“No, just us three.”

“Am… am I in danger?” I ask jokingly, “All this secrecy- it makes me wonder.”

Reiner doesn’t laugh with me.

“Rei?” I call, looking up at him. “...am I?”

His eyes slide down to me, a small smile on his lips. “...stick with me, darling- I’ll keep ya safe.”

“...what?”

“There’s a lot at work here, __________,” Reiner sighs, his eyes going hazy for a second as he relives whatever is ‘at work’. Blinking, he focuses back on me. “But I can keep you safe. I’ve been keeping you safe.”

What does this even mean? Are there people I can’t trust? If that’s true, then what? What am I supposed to do? Be some tiny little doll cowering in fear behind him? I hate being treated like some weak, fragile, defenseless thing. And what if he gets hurt protecting me? What then? What if something goes wrong and he ends up being blamed for something he didn’t do?

And what about Sasha?

“...what about my sister? What about her? Who’s gonna keep her safe?” I ask, clutching the fabric covering his chest, “If anything happens to Sasha, I…”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to Sasha,” Reiner hums quietly, “We’re gonna keep her safe.”

“And Eren? Mikasa? Armin? What about the boys? If any of them get hurt, Rei, I just… I don’t think I could…”

“__________,” he says firmly, catching my attention. Slowly, my eyes slide up to meet his again. They’re gentle and glowing in the fading sunlight. His hand trails down my face again, leaving a buzzing wake behind it.

“You need to trust me.”

I swallow and nod quickly. “Okay, yes, okay… Okay, you’re right. We… We are all gonna be okay.”

Reiner chuckles and lets his chin rest on the top of my head as he tucks me into his chest again.

“That’s my girl.”

“Oiii!” I yell, waving a hand over my head. “Ponytail!”

Eld’s head starts swiveling around, looking for whoever called him. With a gentle kick of my horse, he trots closer. “Eld!” I call again, sliding off the side of my horse. My feet hit the dirt just in front of him as I straighten up, shaking a few stray hairs out of my eyes. “It’s good to see ya again.”

Eld smiles and chuckles, gesturing down to the emerald green cape around my shoulders. “So you made it.”

I look down and rub the fabric between my fingers. A smile crosses my face as I look back up to him. “Just like I dreamed I would.”

“You’re in pretty high spirits,” Oluo scoffs as he walks by with a supply box. Setting it down into a wagon, he huffs and turns to face us. “Considering we’ll all be facing death in a few hours.”

“Always the charmer, huh?” I mutter quietly, earning a small laugh from Eld. “And if you have t’know, I’m just happy we’re one step closer to going outside the walls…” I smile to myself, imagining the places Armin used to talk about. Fire water, ice hills, saltwater that goes on for so long even the merchants couldn’t drain all the salt from it.

I think that’ll be my favorite. ‘Sea’.

Oluo scoffs again. “Bright-eyed, suicidal recruit… Just don’t get someone else killed, will ya?”

“What the hell’s that supposed t’mean?” I snap back.

Oluo smiles crookedly, realisation splitting his face like a piece of china. “Struck a nerve, huh?,” he laughs, “Better get rid of those if you wanna make it.”

“Bold talk for someone that’s too insecure to keep his own personality,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I turn my attention back to Eld- who’s gone awfully quiet as the two of us went at it. A blush is back on his cheeks and I can see him fidgeting with his gaze in an effort to mind his own business.

“...uhm…” He mumbles as his eyes catch someone walking behind me. “This is Petra!” Eld blurts, tugging a woman by the arm. “The one that checked on you when you were, uh… asleep.”

“In a coma, more like,” I laugh, dipping my head to the woman. She has ginger hair cut just above her shoulders and soft, kind eyes. There’s something about her that reminds me so much of a deer for some reason.

Petra’s eyes suddenly light up as she looks over me again. “I remember you- you’re __________! I didn’t know you had your heart set on the Scouts. Which is surprising… considering how much Eld talks about you.”

Eld’s face goes even redder. He stands rigidly, eyes fixated on the horizon.

...I think he just went into shock.

“Well, thank you,” I hum, giving Petra another smile. “For checking in on me.”

Petra shakes her head, “It wasn’t any issue at all.”

I dip my head again and lightly punch Eld’s shoulder. “Hopefully you told her the story of how I kicked your and Oluo’s asses.”

Petra tilts her head slightly to the side before a wicked smile crosses her lips. “...I don’t think I’ve heard that one, __________. Please, tell me.”

“Well, I was walking down an alleyway when-”

“That’s good!” Eld suddenly yelps, “Thank you so much, __________, for stopping by, but the Captain’s calling us!”

Petra giggles as Eld walks behind her, pushing her by the shoulders. Captain Shortstack Jackass is watching them with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows furrowed. He very obviously didn’t call either of them. “You’ll have to tell me when we get back!” Petra calls.

“Of course!” I laugh, watching as Eld goes even redder. Petra waves over his shoulder and I do the same before mounting my horse. I give his neck a gentle pat and urge him forward- back towards the stable.

“You... need a name, Horse,” I mutter as we trot past the various wagons and other Scouts getting their horses and gear ready. “All horses have names… I guess.”

Horse huffs at me.

“Well… you’re…” I look down at his coat as we start to pick up speed. It shimmers in the sunlight, revealing the faint speckles of black and grey under his cream-colored coat. “You’re cream and you’ve got freckles. And last I checked, you have grey-” Horse looks over slightly at me, light-brown eyes glistening. “Sorry… brown eyes. And black mane and tail.”

My eyes flick up, locking onto the figure standing just a few feet in front of my horse. Gripping the reins, I tug back to stop Horse from trampling whoever is in front of me. Instead, I feel myself being shot forward and colliding with the ground. Pain shoots out from my arm, branching out in heated flashes.

I roll onto my back and stare up at the clouds as they lazily float by. “Gods…” I mutter to myself, “That sucked.”

“Told you I’m better at handling horses than you.”

I sit straight up. My head on a swivel, I look around for the voice. It sounded just like… It couldn’t have been- no. No, I’m just-

My eyes land on him. Standing just a couple feet away, with a green Scouts cape on over his shoulders and ODM gear strapped on. He laughs, walking closer and shaking his head. “Jeez, __________, you’ll really get yourself killed if you keep trying to keep up with me.”

“Freckles?” I whisper.

Marco smiles and laughs again, “Really hit your head hard, didn’t you?”

“Freckles?” I whisper again, reaching out to touch him.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. He’s dead. Bit in half. Died alone. Left in the sun to rot for days. He’s dead.

“Ah, jeez, you really did hit your head hard,” Marco mumbles, crouching down beside me. “We gotta get you to Sasha. She’s got some experience with injuries, doesn’t she…? And I won’t even tell Reiner! It’ll just be between us, okay?” He asks, worriedly scanning my face.

“Freckles, you… You… You aren’t here.”

“What are ya talkin’ about? I’m right here, remember? We were practicing horseback riding and maneuvering. Don’t you remember the bet we had?”

Wait a moment.

This was real.

This… this happened already, why am I…?

“...it was my haul from the Commandant’s office,” I whisper, “The… the fountain pen. You’d… you’d take it if I couldn’t pull off a sharp turn and activate my ODM gear while jumping off my horse.”

Tears start to cloud my vision as I stare up at him. “You aren’t really here,” I croak, “Are you?”

Marco shakes his head.

“...I miss you, Freckles,” I smile, tears slipping down my face as I look up at him. My hand brushes through his cheek- like he was a colored mist- but his smile remains. “Gods, I miss you.”

“You’ll see us again.”

I nod, feeling my tears start down the sides of my face. “...tell Franz and Hanna I said ‘hi’.”

“I will.”

“And you… you stay outta trouble, you hear me?” I laugh, tears choking me at the base of my chest.

“You’re the one that needs to stay outta trouble.”

I nod and laugh again, shaking my head.

“...take… take care’a the others for me, will you?” I nod silently. Marco looks up as Horse trots closer. “It’s time for me to go. Just… close your eyes, okay?”

My eyes slide closed before voices start to swarm around me. Bleeding into one another, it makes it so damned hard to hear what anyone is actually saying. All I can do is feel.

And someone’s got me by the shoulders, shaking me pretty damned hard.

I open my eyes to see familiar faces. “...I’ve got to stop waking up to you guys looking down at me like I’ve died.”

The four of them sigh.

“If you die because of a stupid horse incident, I’ll never forgive you,” Jean mutters, getting to his feet and walking away. I can hear him muttering about ‘how stupid’ of a funeral that would be.

“What?” I laugh, wincing at the pain shooting from above my left eye. My fingers graze the spot- only to pull away with a scarlet coloring.

Ah, shit.

“So,” Reiner grumbles, scooping me off the ground effortlessly. “You and your horse have a bit of an issue?”

I scoff, curling into myself as my head starts to pound.

“No?” He asks as we walk towards the castle. “Then what the Hell kind of stunt were you tryin’a pull?”

“I-,” I stop and groan, clutching my temples as they begin to sear. “I… I thought… I thought I saw someone.”

Reiner looks down at me as he pushes the castle door open with his back. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes flicking over every inch of me. It’s the same damn look as every other time I’ve gotten hurt. Which… arguably… is a lot of times.

The ODM incident where I almost cracked my skull open on a tree branch.

The time I slipped and fell in the bathroom.

The sparring training where I cracked three of my ribs. And my arm. And dislocated my shoulder. All because I wouldn’t yield.

The rooftop.

The grocery store.

Various little minor accidents scattered throughout.

And now this.

We round the corner and he places me onto a bed. I watch as he runs a hand down my face and sticks his head out the hallway to look around before returning to my side. Reiner sighs. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Love me,” I hum, closing my eyes slightly as the pain throbs and squirms beneath my skin. “Unconditionally.”

“Gods,” he mutters, scooting closer. “I probably will.”

“Probably?” I ask quietly. “Not ‘most definitely’?”

A deep sigh passes his lips. It rumbles in his chest like thunder. Calming, soothing, gentle thunder. Memories of the forest running to find shelter as another storm took us by surprise. Bare feet padding the grass. Clothes sticking to our skins. Hair plastered to our faces- much like our smiles. Wiping her face as she ducks behind my arm. Telling her that the forest was telling the sky a joke, that the thunder was the sky’s laughter. Watching her peek out to watch the forest and sky talk, laughing as she swears she heard the punchline.

Does she remember what it was like to not be afraid?

“Hey,” Rei mutters, shaking my arm slightly. “Don’t go to sleep on me yet.”

“...sorry,” I mumble, opening my eyes and letting them glide to his spot beside me. “Where is she-”

The door slams open. Sasha- with eyes wide and clutching medical supplies to her chest- pants in the doorway. “Did I make it?” She asks wearily.

“Did…,” I trail off, sitting up to look at her. “Did you think I died?”

Sasha shakes her head, kicking the door closed just as Connie and Jean try to walk in behind her. “No,” she mutters. Plopping down beside me, she looks over me. “Just thought maybe you’d passed out.”

“Check my eyes,” I remind her. Sasha nods and leans in, forcing open my eyes with her fingers.

“...your eye-holes seem to be fine.”

“...my pupils?”

“Eye-holes. Same thing.”

I know Sasha’s joking but by the look on Reiner’s face, he does not.

“She’s only kidding, love,” I whisper as I take his hand. “She knows the basics.”

“Yep,” Sasha agrees, digging through the pile of medical supplies she brought in. “And you don’t have a concussion- and that thing on your head doesn’t need stitches- it should heal in a week or so... so you’re good to go after I clean it… ha!” She snatches a bottle of saline and a bandage. “You’ll be all good in no time, __________. Trust me.”

I’m the one that taught her. Why don’t I trust her?

“You awake?”

I focus back in on the now. The present. My surroundings.

Scattered trees and hills to the right. Denser trees on my left. Two horses trailing behind me. No flares from either direction. Reiner just in front of me.

“Always am.”

“Good.” He starts to pull back on his horse, levelling off with me. “How’s your head?”

Instinctively, I reach up and graze the bandage. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Good.”

“...are you okay?” I ask, looking over at him. His skin is pale and flushed pink with a slight tinge to his ears. “Here. Drink some.” Unbuckling my flask, I hand it to him.

...and he downs the entire thing before handing it back to me.

“Rei, are you sick?”

“No, I just-”

“Well, love, you look like you’re either about to shit yourself or vomit,” I laugh worriedly, “Are you sure?”

“__________, listen, I…,” he sighs and looks away. He’s even more red now.

I nudge him with my elbow. “I’m listening.” I smirk, stirrupping Horse again. My eyes turn to the horizon, scanning for any flares or anything that approaches us.

Reiner returns my smile and sighs shakily. “I wanna-”

Something appears in the distance. “What is that?” I mumble, staring at the thing. “Do you see it?” I point. “That.”

Reiner looks at the thing, squinting. “I… I can’t tell.”

“Should we fire a flare off?” I ask, reaching to my saddlebag. “Just in case?”

“Just… hang on-”

He stops just as the thing changes form, moving closer towards us and faster.

It takes shape as it grows. Fourteen meters, blonde hair.

Female body type.

My hands move on their own- throwing the canister into the gun, lifting it straight up, and firing. Red smoke fires out from the gun into the clouds. “Rei, we have to move!” I yell, turning the horses in towards the center of the formation.

I look over my shoulder, watching the two horses trail after Reiner. He stays going forward, heading right for it with glazed eyes. “Reiner!”

My eyes follow his gaze as I bring Horse to a stop. They land on the Female Titan, who snatches something from mid-air and dropkicks it. Blood trails after the broken body and I watch ODM wires disconnect from the Female Titan’s body- following the body.

It’s… is it like Eren? A person inside it?

“Reiner!” I scream again.

It gets his attention. Snapping out of his daze, Reiner makes a sharp turn.

As he gets closer, I press my heels into Horse’s sides. “Ha!”

Footsteps follow after us, thundering and quivering the very organs inside of me. My breath catches in my lungs as I feel it- her- getting closer. Gods. Gods, please. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.

Something flashes at my side. With trembling force, a foot lands beside me- crushing one of the horses before it could even make a sound.

We’re going to die. Right now, we are going to die.

I wince, waiting for her to reach down and crush me in her hand. Reiner yells something but it’s lost in the frantic whinnies of our horses, the pounding of my heart, the panting of my lungs. When it reaches me, it’s blurred together like the colors in my eyes.

‘I’ve gotten hurt’ is what it sounds like.

Gods, please. Spare us.

My fists clutch the reins as I look up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fourteen meters. This is what will kill me.

The Female Titan’s other foot collides with the earth beside me. All at once, sounds and colors and shapes retract into their determined forms. Everything flushes back into focus as the Female Titan takes another step away from us. I watch as she continues sprinting towards the center- leaving us in her wake. Her head turns to look over her shoulder before she presses forward.

Right to Armin.

“Rei!” I yell, sticking Horse again. “She’s gonna hit Armin! She’s headed right for him!”

“C’mon!” He yells back, appearing at my side.

“This is the job we chose, right?” Jean snaps, “So lend me a hand!”

The rest of us are silent. Only hoofbeats and footsteps resound around us. Silently, Armin pulls his hood up over his head. “...pull your hoods up. Over your heads- far down enough so she can’t see your face.”

“You’re thinking she won’t kill anyone that could be Eren,” Reiner mutters, tugging his hood up over his head. “...that’s a nice, but small, consolation… Let’s hope she has bad eyes, too.”

Jean shakes his head, laughing. “I was always creeped out the way you used to hang around Eren so much,” he mutters as he pulls his hood up. “But I always knew you were capable.”

“...‘creeped out’ is a little harsh but thanks,” Armin mumbles.

Feeling the three pairs of eyes on me, I tug my hood up as well. “...I always knew I’d die next to you three bastards.”

“Well. If we don’t,” Reiner chuckles, “We’ll throw a big party ‘nd get married.”

“Oh yeah,” I scoff, pulling my swords out from their holsters. “We’ll have a big ol’ buffet ‘nd everything. I’ll even have a live band play for us.”

“You two lovebirds over there still squawking?” Jean barks, leaning forward to glare at us.

“Will you shut up for a minute?” Reiner shoots back, “I’m… Kinda doin’ something.”

“You can ‘kinda do something’ after this!” Jean yells, “We’re not dying today.”

“Fine!” I snap, “I’m not spending my last moments fighting with you two morons! Let’s just do this. Delay her as long as we can- by any means necessary. Got it?!”

The three grunt in agreement. “Jean, go to her left,” Reiner starts, “Armin, you go to her right. __________, you-”

“I’m going with Armin!” I whip my reins and follow after Armin as he heads to the Female Titan’s right hand side.

We level off just behind her. “She’s much slower than when she attacked me!” Armin comments, “If we’re going to do this, it has to be now!”

“Wait for Jean!” I yell, “He’s the best out of us with ODM gear. If he can get a good angle on her, it’ll be us being his support!”

A flash shoots out, launching into the Female Titan’s leg. Jean flies in behind it with his swords readied. The Titan crouches down and spins- flinging Jean. Armin and I get to our feet and stand on our horses’ backs. As my wires stick into the Female Titan’s leg, I give Horse a tap of my heel that sends him running away from the Titan.

Something swipes just under my legs. Everything around me slows as I watch the Titan’s hand bat Armin’s horse out from underneath him. His name leaves my lips the same way it did when Shiganshina fell. Breathless. Screeching. Desperate. “Armin!”

“__________!” Reiner’s voice carries out over my own.

Before I can do anything, I feel something crack against my back. I’m pushed forward- colliding with the earth and rolling for a few feet. Landing on my back, I stare up in a daze at the clouds.

Aching pain crawls through my veins- igniting my muscles in throbbing, squeezing pain. My back arches as I take long, hard breaths to stop my heart from pounding in my ears. It does nothing but amplify the sound as I feel my lungs burn and the cages around them scream in agony.

Broken ribs. At least a few on each side.

Certain slices and patches of my skin burn from the contact with the ground. Minor scratches, bruises, friction burns.

I’ll live. If she doesn’t finish me off.

Time begins to speed up again- her footsteps not taking so long to hit the ground as they get closer. Clouds seem to flurry past and my heartbeat begins to race once more.

The fight isn’t done yet.

I push myself to my feet, feeling every ache, every pain, every burn a million times over.

The fight isn’t done yet.

I’m not done yet.

The Female Titan tightens her fist, preparing to swing backwards at Jean. Breaking out into a sprint, I click my triggers and shoot my wires into the ground, allowing me to run faster. A blur of gold and green starts towards the Titan as I do- catching me attention so I stutter and stop.

Reiner.

Teeth gritted, eyes blazing, blades glinting. He’s going for her nape.

Armin’s yelling something. The Titan stays completely still as he continues screaming.

And then she snaps.

She catches Reiner’s body in her hand.

My heart stops. Blood stops. Lungs stop.

Everything.

Stops.

“...no.”

Chills run down my spine- dull and weak. Nothing like adrenaline.

Fear.

“No… no.”

I shake my head, watching as Reiner’s body disappears in her grasp.

Someone grabs my waist, tugs me away. “No!” I scream, thrashing around as everything starts to move again. “No!”

“__________!” Jean yells, pulling me away. “We have to go!”

A blur of metal spins out from her grip, severing her fingers off from the base of her palm. Reiner pushes out and around her back. Grabbing Armin, he sprints away from her and towards us.

The four of us break out into a sprint as she stares down at her palm. She gets to her feet and runs away from us- her hand still steaming.

Something breaks inside of me. Tears start running down my face as Reiner sidles up next to me. Armin- bleeding from his forehead- is in his arms. Titan blood evaporates off of Reiner’s hair and shoulders as he looks down at me. “We’ll be okay! She won’t eat us unless she’s a cannibal! We-”

I cut him off, punching his shoulder as hard as I can. “Don’t you ever pull that shit again, Reiner Braun!” I snap, furiously wiping the tears rolling down my face. “I swear on the walls, I… I will kill you myself if you do, do you hear me?! You scared the shit outta me! I… I thought I lost you.”

Reiner laughs breathlessly. “I told you, darling. We haven’t gotten married, yet. I can’t die until that happens.”

“We aren’t leaving anyone behind,” I snap, tightening Armin’s bandages. “None of that, you hear me?”

“We might not have a choice,” Armin mutters, “If we all stay behind, we might all-”

“I said no!”

The three of us go silent as Jean continues whistling for his horse.

But the question still hangs in the air.

Who’s going to stay behind?

There’s only one horse- there’s four of us. If somehow one of us gets our horse back, we’ll be able to get out of here but until then… We’re stranded in Titan country without a means of escape.

“We have to talk about it,” Reiner says quietly.

“No,” I get to my feet and shake my head. “No. We don’t.”

“__________-”

I hold up a hand to stop him, “Don’t.” Turning to Jean, I gesture to his bag. “You have an emergency flare, yeah?”

Jean nods and gets it out, loading it into his gun. Shooting it into the sky, purple smoke trails up from our location.

It’s a long shot, but they might get the message.

“We can wait three more minutes,” Reiner says firmly. “During then, we’ll decide who’s gonna-”

“I’ll stay.” My head snaps to Armin. “Just get a message to the command section- to Commander Erwin, if you can.”

“I’m staying, too, then.”

“__________, no-” Reiner starts.

“I don’t want to hear it, Rei,” I mumble, “Please. I don’t… I don’t want to hear it but look. We’re both injured. Armin’s got a possible concussion and he’s bleeding. I’ve broken half a dozen ribs and I’ve got more bruises than I know what to do with. If anyone’s staying it’s-”

“Neither of you,” Jean laughs, “Someone’s coming this way with three horses.” The three of us look over to him as he shades his face from the sun. “I think it’s… It looks like… Christa!”

“Guys!” Christa’s dainty voice rings out as she approaches, “Are you okay?!”

I huff a laugh, “Define ‘okay’, blondie!”

“If __________’s still cracking jokes, she’s still alive, right?” Christa laughs, coming to a stop just in front of us. The three horses surrounding her skid to a stop.

Horse trots up to me, nudging me with his nose. “Hey there, Horse,” I mutter, pressing my head against his. “Ya miss me?”

“What happened to you guys?” Christa asks as she looks over me. “You look awful.”

“Aw, gee, thanks, blondie,” I giggle, “I feel awful.”

Christa’s soft face tightens slightly in concern. “...you’re sure you’ll be okay riding alone? Your horse… I dunno his name… but he seems to run alongside me pretty well- even without a harness.”

“Yeah, that’s him, alright,” I mumble, rubbing Horse’s nose. “But I think I’ll be alright.”

“...I’m with Christa,” Jean says warily, “You broke six ribs.”

“What?!” Christa screeches. “Six?! No, ma’am! You’re riding with me or with Jean! Six ribs- what were you thinking?!”

I shrug. “I’ve done worse.”

“Worse?!”

Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.

Christa sighs, pinching her eyes closed. “Fine. The past is the past. I can’t change it. But you- right now- are going to ride with Jean or me. Pick one.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I mumble with a smirk. “I’ll ride with you. Give the boys a little show, how ‘bout that?”

Christa turns a light shade of pink as Reiner helps me sit on top of Christa’s horse. “You behave,” Reiner mutters with a stern look.

But I can see it.

A little mischievous smirk plays his lips as he pulls away.

“Yes sir,” I coo, “I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

The four of us start off towards the center. “What’s your horse’s name?” Christa asks. “He really seems to like you. Before, I couldn’t get him to hold still- then, when I said your name, he calmed down and followed us perfectly fine.”

“...I just call him Horse.”

“...oh…”

I sigh and turn around to watch as Horse gallops. Cream-colored coat hiding thick muscles that twitch and writhe. Dots- freckles- that spatter his coat. His black mane whips about in the wind.

“Freckles,” I say quietly.

“What?”

“Freckles. That’s his name.”

I groan, letting my head fall back as my legs swing off the tree branch. “Rei, we’ve been sitting here for hours and you haven’t said a word to me,” my lip juts out in a pout, “Please talk to me.”

Reiner grumbles under his breath. His arms cross over his chest as he sits on the farest end of the tree branch away from me.

“Baby,” I whine, “you aren’t still mad at me for-”

“Yes, I’m still mad at you for being a tease. And we’ve been out here an hour. Hour and a half, tops.”

“Tch,” I groan again, “Baby, it was just a joke. I didn’t mean to drop my ring.” I hold my hand out in the sun to look at my moonstone ring as it glistens. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“...you dropped it three times before we got up here.”

“I would never do anything to tease you.” Reiner raises an eyebrow and I roll my eyes. “On a mission.”

Rei’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “...you really didn’t mean to?”

“Of course not, baby,” I coo softly. “Not on a mission.”

Reiner sighs and rolls his eyes before getting to his feet. Wordlessly, he plops down beside me and lays his hand over mine on the branch. “You only call me ‘baby’ when you’re guilty,” he murmurs into the shell of my ear. “...so I forgive you.”

“Oh good, you caught on,” I tease, nudging him with my elbow.

“Easy, there, girl,” he huffs, “you’re still on thin ice.”

“You can’t stay mad at me,” I turn to face him and flash him a face-splitting smile. “I’m your darling.”

“...you’re right,” Rei laughs softly. “I could never.”

The two of us fall into a comfortable- buzzing with adrenaline but still comfortable- silence. I lean forward to look at the Titans gathered at the base of our tree, clawing and gripping the bark in an attempt to get to us. Hungrily, they salivate and stare up at us with glazed eyes.

The Female Titan. Why is she doing what she was? If she’s human, wouldn’t she want the walls to remain? They keep us safe for the time being. The outside world isn’t ready for us to break down our walls. And if she does want the walls gone, why?

And who is she?

“...are you listening?”

“Hm?” I ask, leaning back. “No, I’m sorry, I was just…,” my eyes flick down to the Titans, “...lost in thought.”

“I was just asking how your sides are.”

My fingers rub against my sides. They aren’t sore, they don’t hurt. I’ve always healed fast but knowing how long it’s supposed to take to heal sometimes, it’s… a little disconcerting. “I don’t feel anything.”

“...you’re better already?”

I shrug, “It could just be adrenaline. Or maybe they weren’t as badly broken as we thought they were. Bruising and breaks are really similar…”

Reiner hums in acknowledgment. “As long as you feel okay. When we get back, I’m still getting you checked out.”

“Yes sir.”

I lean over the side of the branch to see the Titans again. “It’s strange that we weren’t directed around the forest.” I comment quietly, leaning over more before my ODM wire locks into place.

“...Iyeah,” Reiner mutters, “Why wouldn’t we just go around?”

“I dunno,” I strain, slightly jiggling the wire a bit. “But do you think it was on purpose?”

“It’s Commander Erwin,” Rei chuckles, “Of course it was.”

“That’s true… I just… It’s so hard for us to see threats coming in,” I grip the wire and tug harder. “So why send them in?”

“Assuming he knows of the right flank casualties, we should’ve retreated a long time ago,” he mutters, “But we’re here and the center flank is somewhere in the trees.”

“Which is also weird, right?” I ask, yanking on the wire even harder. “I mean, if we are gonna go in, why not-”

The wire snaps out of the branch. The force of me pulling sends me over the edge of the branch. I watch as the wire extends rapidly- reeling me down towards the Titans’ grasps. Reiner runs to the end, reaching out to grab my hand.

But it’s too late.

A hand wraps around my body and pulls, unlatching my ODM wire from the tree. It starts to tighten as it turns me around to face it. My eyes lock onto it and I scream, thrashing around wildly. My arms are pinned in its hold- trapped against the steel of my ODM blade holsters and the clammy flesh wrapped around me.

Another Titan stares at me hungrily. As I look at it, red light starts to pour from its eyes like fog. Without warning, it lunges. I wince and duck away- waiting to be engulfed in moist darkness.

It doesn’t come. It’s replaced with an unearthly howl of pain and the sound of tearing flesh.

The grip around me falls away and as I’m spun in a free-fall, I catch glimpses of the scene above me. Red fog pours from the Titans’ eyes as they all latch onto the Titan that grabbed me. Bite by bite, they tear into the searing flesh of the Titan and devour the steaming chunks of bleeding meat.

They’re… eating it.

The red fog.

It was real.

My body stops, swinging up before I hit the forest floor. As we land on another branch, Reiner hugs me to his body tightly. “You scared the shit out of me,” he says raggedly. I feel tears drip onto my shoulder. But I don’t look at him- even as he pulls away, gripping my shoulders.

My eyes are focused on the fog swirling through the bodies of the Titans.

What the Hell is it?

Why does it keep following me?

Why does it keep saving me?

“...__________!”

I’m pulled back into my body- away from the grasping hands of the Titans that force muscles and tendons and organs down their throats. Blankly, I stare at Reiner. “What happened?” he asks quietly, looking over his shoulder at the Titans. “Are you-”

A scream rips out of my throat as I look down at my hands. My fingers start to rake through my skin, clawing for the source of the red fog.

Get it out.

Get. It. Out.

Reiner’s hands fumble with mine as they try to stop me from continuing the hurried slicing of my skin. “Darling, darling,” he says calmly as he grabs my wrists, “Darling, hey, look at me. Look at me.”

Wildly, my eyes fly around my surroundings.

Get it out. Red fog. Red fog. I have to get it out. I have to find it.

Red fog. I have to get it out.

Red fog.

“__________!” Reiner snaps, shaking me by my wrists, “Look at me!”

My gaze settles on him but I can feel myself twitching and writhing in place.

Red fog.

Get it out. I have to get it out.

“...you’re okay,” he mumurs, “You’re okay now, okay, darling? You’re safe.”

Tears burst from my eyes, leaking down my face as I roll my hands around from my wrists. Trembling violently, my body falls to the floor. Reiner catches me before I fall, scooping me up under my arms and holding me to him.

“There’s something... inside of me,” I strain, keeping down the screams wanting to claw their way out. My nails rake his back- threatening to rip through the fabric. “There is... something inside of me, Rei. I don’t know what it is. And I’m so scared, Rei. I just… I don’t… I don’t understand it. I… I don’t know... what it is. There’s… There’s something inside of me, Reiner, please! Please, Rei! Take it out! Get it out of me!”

WHEW

a doozy like i said. if you made it this far, i am so proud of you. my short attention span could literally never. as always thank you so much for reading and i hope to hear your thoughts and comments!

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

from an anon, about parents and school

(it's just long, that's why it's under a break XD)

here's my proposition: make parents understand that not every child should conform to whatever traditional career paths that exist. as an asian, i could feel the pressure to take science like a fucking boulder on my body. i have to rant a bit.

i am the younger sibling, my brother is two years elder to me. i was never instilled any curiosity in anything science related, i was kinda left all by myself lol. my brother tho, maybe because he was older or because he was a guy (yeah LMFAO), was encouraged AND involved in a LOT of coding, mechanix (its a construct-ur-own-stuff thing).

i guess i never really noticed until i was leaving middle school, that i was not as smart as him, and would probably never be. but i had other strengths he didnt have. i love writing, im pretty good at it. i am analytical and subejctive, i like thinking and making conclusions about things. i mean i guess i've figured out what i could be better at, right? but the problem?

its that my parents dont see it. its as if they dont know me or they DO know me and are just forcing the things they need onto me. it feels selfish of them to completely forgo my actual strengths. like YES OK i UNDERSTAND i can never be as smart as my brother, but u dont have to pretend like i can. because pretending that i can achieve whatever he has, is just going to affect YOU. because i have accepted long ago that some things arent for me.

they think i dont want to put effort into anything i do. that im lazy and want the easy way out. god, every time they say this i want to honestly show them that its the things IM interested in, where i put in the work. its so belittling.

ive written articles abt bts, their music, about how carl jungs theory of archetypes and i occasionally ask a lot of questions about the world to you (hi lol). i just dont get why they want me to waste energy on something im clearly uninterested in.

short answer, point to BTS and say, "They're Asian, they make tons of money. Leave me alone."

just kidding XD

If I'm being serious, I don't think they will change their mind. They will continue to force their ideals onto you, because they believe in certain career paths had assured success and that is what they are after. They either want you to make a certain amount of money, have a certain status in life, or simply know that you can obtain a stable job. To be honest, these are not really traditional career paths at all if you think about it. Becoming a doctor takes many, many years and it is hard ass work. Parents just make it seem as if these are the only jobs available to you, even if you know it's not true.

Men vs women in Asian countries, well, I feel everyone knows this, but many Asian parents born in their respective countries put more effort into their sons than daughters. Firstborn son? He probably walks on water to them XD

I understand what you mean when you say your parents do not understand. This might sound egotistical (it does now that I'm writing it, I am very sorry) but I was the one in my family who got the best grades. None of my siblings got better grades than me (basically I had a 4.0 from middle school to university), and do you think with all that I would be immune?

Nope.

I am good at the sciences and I am good at the humanities as well. I had an interest in reading, writing, and drawing. Reading fiction, I could pass it off to educate myself. Writing? I could pass it off as something for school. But drawing?

Woo, boy.

This was a constant fight. I do not back down (a rebel, wcyd) and I drew and it would get ripped apart. I drew and it would get torn up and thrown away. I drew and and would be beaten, yelled at, constantly belittled for my interest in it even though I was good at the sciences and math. To my mom (my dad doesn't count, he had zero interest in parenting) - if she did not think it was going to make money in the future, it was useless. If I could not spin it into profit, I should not be doing it (very fun childhood I had, yes). The most ironic thing is, after I became an adult, she suggested I start drawing again and sell it to make money.

Hello?

You literally forced me to stop drawing because you constantly connected it with negativity???

(not now, I have since stopped talking to her and started drawing again and it is purely for myself, not to show anyone else, I do not even post it on social media or show anyone irl)

Not saying your parents will act like mine, btw, only sharing my experience.

The idea that you'll never be as smart as your brother? That's bullshit lol. That's like saying intelligence is only valuable if it's science or math, which, as you know, is not true. You are you. He is himself. It is not you cannot do those things. It is that those things are not what you want to focus on. You have a limited amount of time in this life and you have chosen the things you want to delve into and explore.

You don't have to be good at everything. Everything is just not good enough for you.

I am of the mindset that you should try and learn everything you can about this world. I love learning, personally. I think knowing everything I know, from the humanities to the sciences, enriches my life and gives me a broader perspective.

But I totally understand how you feel, because being pushed into something makes you end up hating it. Parents push their kids to learn this or that and kids end up resenting schoolwork because it doesn't feel like something they wanna do anymore. It's just adults yapping in their ears and it feels pointless. Grades aren't everything. You think anyone cares that I aced Physics with Calculus I and II as an adult? LMAO, no one gives a shit. You passed, good enough XD

Here's how I think you should treat school. It's not the content that matters. It's you understanding how you learn each subject. Every subject is different and how you learn them is different. It is not because you are bad at the subject, it is because you haven't figured out the best learning style for you. Teachers have to teach a mass of students and, yes, I understand this seems very tedious to have to "teach yourself".

The skill in learning to learn becomes so, so valuable as an adult. It is how you maintain interest in things, how you develop new interests, and how will come to find meaning (in whatever you want to focus on finding meaning for). I'm not saying that you will be able to find your perfect learning style in every subject, but I am encouraging you to simply see it in that light.

And, you might find certain things to be not that important to you, in which case, just pass the class, it's totally fine if it's not going to help you for the career path you're going for XD Nobody asks me about the themes of William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" (tbh, a pair of overdramatic loons) or how I feel about Sigmund Freud (actually a twat, but that's neither here nor there).

Let them talk. That one that walks your path is you. Focus on what you want to focus on. They are set in their ways and they way to show them there are different paths is to walk them.

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dangan-happy · 3 years

Note

phrase: Shrinko Crabashira?!

to: korekiyo and/or kokichi

tw: anxiety

hey, recently ive been feeling super anxious and out of it. i have rlly bad social anxiety so i dont rlly have any friends in school and im seen as an outcast and some kids even label me as a freak or even just a background character. im kinda used to it, but it still hurts when i think abt how alone i am. this anxiety also spread to the way i look towards my future. the job i want is one that my dad doesn't really approve of. he started out as an artist and he quickly became broke and he constantly tells me how unlikely it is that ill have a successful career as an author. both of these things combined make me feel like giving up and i cant imagine a happy ending for me. sometimes i think abt reaching out to one of my teachers who i trust for advice on both of these since he told us we could always talk to him abt issues we have but im afraid he'll think it's dumb or he'll tell me to suck it up like everyone else does. i dont know what to do and im scared of messing up. can i get some advice and maybe a hug ?

What's up anon! Man, I could write an entire book on how much I hate anxiety. I'm sorry you're dealing with that. Believe it or not, I can totally relate to the school thing. I was/still am a total outcast, and kind of a freak I'll admit. Being alone sucks, but you can always try reaching out to people in other places than school. Joining an online community has done a lot for me, and as long as you do it safely, it might be a good place for you to start practicing skills that'll be able to help you in the future.

What! That's totally unfair of your dad to say that about your goals. You aren't the same person as him, and he has no way to confirm that what happened to him is gonna happen to you! Yeah, being an author is a tough career, but it's getting a lot easier to get started. There's lots of writing platforms and competitions that you could start working with to improve your writing and start building up to a solid career. Don't let what he says stop you, ok? If it's what you want to do and you're passionate about it, don't listen to what anyone else has to say, just do what you feel is right.

Yeah, you must really feel like crap, and I'm really sorry to hear that. You don't have to suck it up at all. These are your emotions, and no one can tell you to just suck it up. If you think you can trust that teacher, then yeah, I think you should go for it! I don't think he sounds like the kind of person who would just tell you to suck it up, I think he'd be able to help a lot. You don't have to do this alone ok? There's totally a happy ending out there for you.

You're an amazing talented person, and if I went to your school, I'd totally hang out with you and be besties. You're not a freak in a bad way, own your differences ok? You're a super cool person, and you're gonna do amazing things. I'll be cheering you on the whole time ok? Yeah, you can get a super awesome hug for a super awesome person! Don't give up, ok? You're gonna be just fine.

Mhm, I can relate to several aspects of your struggles. You've practically summarized the entirety of my social experience, and I am sorry you've had to go through that as well. You're not a freak or a background character. People don't get to label you as that. You're still the main character of your own story, and no one can take that away from you.

Yes, I find myself agreeing with Kokichi, finding an online circle that shares your interests can help to develop the skills you need to be more successful in your school life. If you choose to do this, focus on learning how to respond confidently and work on speaking your mind more and being heard. It does irritate me a little to hear that your father said that to you. While I can acknowledge that he may think that he is protecting or helping you, he clearly is not aware of the impact his words had on your emotional state. Careers have changed since he was younger, and it's becoming slightly easier to pursue a more artistic career as the internet produces more tools. I would continue to write and focus on that being your career.

Again, I agree with Kokichi. There are lots of platforms dedicated to helping people follow the career path of being a writer. I would look into this if it interests you. I know things feel rather hopeless right now, but I assure you, this isn't the end at all. Yes, I believe that speaking to that teacher would help. If he has made offers before, I doubt he would brush off your worries and problems. It seems that he is a good source of support and help, and I would take the chance. Your feelings are important, so it's best to use every resource available. Do not give up on your dreams and goals, you're very talented and dedicated, and I fully believe you should pursue your interests.

Once again I agree with Kokichi. I would be pleased to be a companion to you if I was in your school life. There are better things out there for you, so do not give up yet. I am happy to give you a hug if it helps you. You will do amazing things, of that I am sure.

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #kokichi ouma #korekiyo shinguji #mod kokichi #mod korekiyo

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nico-idc · 3 years

Text

random vent because i'm numb rn and feel like it

This is a vent post, ill probably talk about su!cide, self h*rm, eating disorders and depression. I’ll also cuss a lot, and things will not be censored. Also, this may seem insensitive to people experiencing any of this, sorry about that. Dont read this if youre triggered by that.

Also, this is my experience with mental health. Everyone deals with it differently.

So, If anyone doesnt know, I have depression and anxiety. And right now, I’m feeling numb as it’s often described by people with depression. But, numb isn’t a very good description. I can still feel. I’ll still smile if you tell me a joke, or if something funny is on a video. I’ll still cry if there’s something super sad. Emotion is just watered down. I feel it, but not as much as I should. Me and my boyfriend were talking, and i couldnt tell him I loved him. It’s not becuase I dont love him, but I just cant feel much of anything, so I dont want to tell him I loved him. Becuase If i did that, I felt as though I was lying. The funniest thing is, I randomly started crying. Still felt nothing, but hey, I had tears streaming down my face. Who fucking knows why.

I havent been doing to great for a while now, but this is the worst i’ve ever gotten. Ive never felt numb before. I mean, I’ve felt myself starting to go through the motions, but i’ve never gone completely numb before. And before this i’ve had a few mental breakdowns. Hell, I’ve sat in a corner twice in the past month or so doing nothing but sobbing and begging myself not to move so I dont grab something sharp and cut myself. (I did not relapse, don’t worry). and recently I completely broke down over simply eating a cereal bar, got through it, ate it. I’m good now.

Figures. That does seem to be my experience. Oh no, big bad issue one time, then magically I just talk myself out of my bullshit, and im fixed. Ha ha, yet I act like I have all these issues. I mean, I didnt even attempt to starve myself, just thought “oh, friends and family wont let me” and didnt. Had a breakdown about a year later, been fine since. Cut for a few months, went to therapy for a few months, stopped cutting. had a few breakdowns about a year or two later, then was fine. was suicidal for a while, went to therapy for a bit, was happy for months. Had breakdowns every now and then, fine now.

ha ha, first time I say alot of this is online. Figures. I’ve done that a lot too. My boyfriend has found out a bit about my depression through this site. Becuase I cant talk to my boyfriend about my shit, but hey random people on the internet! hear about my problems.

So on another note, I recently found a song that describes part of depression pretty well. It’s called “i’m not dead” by boyinaband. it’s linked below, I’ll copy paste the lyrics, and explain how I relate, and what the lyrics mean to me, becuase why not? (lyrics will be in bold)

undefined

youtube

I'm not dead

I'm not fixed, but I'm not giving up yet

Basically, this means that im still here, im still depressed, but I’m still trying to fight depression.

I'm sick of saying that I still don't have anything done

I hate telling friends I'm trying something just to give it up

I never commit to anything, I just say I’ll do something, then decide I dont want to.

I'm still unsure of my emotional state

I'm still incapable of focusing lately

I don't feel like creating

I'm tired of asking Google how to find motivation

I’ve been on break from writing for months now. tried to get back to it, lost concentration. I think this is self explanatory.

I don't think I've ever made

Something that's as good as I'm capable of

Ha, I dont put in enough effort and commitment to make something as good as possible.

I hate not having a reason to look my best

I only ever take care of myself with the intent to show the internet

I mean, I dont try to show the internet, but I only take care of myself when other people will see me.

If what made me successful was an imposed sense of stress then

I am so so glad that I hated myself

The only thing that makes me do things is extreme stress.

I didn't luck into this position

I struggle with decisions

I mean, im not in any high position, but I do struggle with decisions.

I wouldn't be my own friend

I'm too inconsistent

I’m inconsistent as hell. I’m in like 10 group chats, don't talk in any of them for months, then just show up like “hi, havent talked to you all in ages, but hi”.

Without immense pressure nothing ever gets finished

If these words make it to your ears it'll be a fucking miracle.

Yep. I went on whole rant about this on wattpad. Without pressure to do something, I don’t do it.

I'm fortunate to know more good people than most do

I wish I had more friends I could be physically close to

I dont personally have a lot of friends that dont live in my city, so the last line isnt an issue, but I do know a lot of good people”

I'm pretty good at like 20 different skill sets

At the expense of never being great at any one of them

I’m good at quite a few things. Drawing, math, even writing. But im not great at it. I’m average.

I wish this beat hit harder

I wish more syllables rhymed

I know 99 percent of people really don't mind

I dont personally relate to this, seeing as I dont make music.

I think collaborating forced me to finish things

'Cause I was terrified of wasting famous people's time

Oh yeah. Group projects would not get done if i wasnt scared of wasting my partner’s time.

I wish I could focus on what I define priority

I wish I was as grateful as I want to be

Dont really relate to these things

I wish I knew more people who were mentally stable

But if I did,

I wouldn't let them waste their time on me while I'm disabled

Oh yeah. Id love to have a friend who isnt depressed, but I wouldnt let them see that im fucked up becuase i dont wanna drag them down.

I feel alone

I know I'm not

I have a lot of friends, but I still fell alone in this world

I used to talk to lots of people.

Lately I've stopped

They didn't deserve it,

I've been a terrible friend.

But I couldn't bear to let myself become boring to them

I ignore group chats all the time. no reason. Probably shouldnt.

I don't let myself get my hopes up.

I love people who do.

Something good happens? what could go wrong? that is my thought precess.

I never know if what I say I feel is the truth

I have no damn Idea what I think, so its so hard to know what the truth in my head is.

I wish I didn't instinctively try to be less specific

So more people could relate, when they read along with the lyrics.

Not lyrics, but if i write/explain something, I immediately generalize things so its relateable.

I can be happy in the moment

I am not when I reflect

I smile watching youtube, but then I look back and think about how I wasted time.

I distract myself with gaming, waiting to get better

I hate it

Youtube will cure depression right? /s

I wanna do the most good, and prevent the most hurt

But I've gotta put on my own oxygen mask first

This is just an important phrase I try to remember when I’m down. for people who dont do well with metaphors, he’s saying that if you want to help people, you need to help yourself first.

I can't predict what I'll do.

I can never be sure

I am terrified of making promises any more

I can't face my work,

I feel sick from the word

I genuinely believe I'm capable of changing the world

Don’t relate much here, except for the more positive, upbeat tone the song takes on, and i feel that this part, the part above and everything below is dave fighting his depression.

I still think I can get better

I’m holding onto hope.

I still think I can create and get pleasure from it

I hope so, I want my art and writing to improve.

I'll keep aiming to make my emotion and my logic agree

The eternal stuggle. I always try to get the two to line up, it rarely works. I try to use logic more often though.

And become the best version of me

Always trying to improve myself.

I don't want to stop!

There’s alot this could mean. I dont want to stop creating. I dont want to stop fighting. I dont want to stop getting better. I dont want to stop living. I relate to all these things.

I’ll expand on this more later, it’s too late now for me to continue this

#cussing tw #swearing tw #tw suicide mention #tw self harm #tw eating disorder #vent post

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kilibaggins · 4 years

Text

In This Together

Request: "I would like to request a Murphy/Emori with Spacekru while on the ring. Murphy has PTSD from Ontari's rape and he's depressed and cutting. Maybe do something where he tries to kill himself but Emori finds him and with support from his kru he gets better." - @warrier-queann

I’M REALLY NERVOUS I HOPE THIS IS GOOD lol

A/N- Thank you for being my first Request! I hope I write this properly! I hope it's not too OOC.

P.s- This is Canon-Divergent. He still splits from the team, but ge ends up going back with them in this, while that didnt happen in the show (at least on the Ring.)

Warning: Past Rape, PTSD, Self Harm which is pretty describd, Depression, Suicide Attempt, mentions Hanging, drinking, mentions of Floating(aka dying in space but you know that since you've watched the show lol).

Word Count: 2,298.. wow I got a little carried away lol.

Murphy isn't happy. That's no surprise to Anyone who understands the situation. He hasn't been happy for a long time. Heck, anyone who thinks that he's actually happy needs to get their people skills checked. He has so many trauma's under his belt that he could make almost anyone cringe at them. Which, some people in the past have. Emori used to be very open to listening to him, now she barley wants to look at him.

Murphy is laying on the cold, hard ground on his side of the ship, if he turns his head to the right he can see the Words "MURPHY'S SIDE, GO FLOAT YOURSELF" in big red letters, made in red paint that he made look like blood on purpose. He's not crazy. He knows hes not, no matter what the other think about him, and no matter what they whisper to each other when they pass his side. He's protecting himself. Protecting himself from the pain that they could cause him. He doesn't trust anyone, and the last person he trusted left him the moment he gave up on life.

He looks to his left and sees Earth. He scoffs as he thinks of how much he would rather be there than here. The place so many bad things happened to him on, is the same place he wishes he could be. He shakes his head and swallows the lump in his throat that always appears when he's thinking of the past.

He sits up and pushes his hair out of his face. He has let it grow since they've been here. It gets in his face all the time, but honestly he stopped caring a while ago. He grabs the bottle of alcohol he has by his little sleeping area and takes a big swig. It burns going down and he's honestly thankful for it. Otherwise he would actually believe he feels nothing other than emotional turmoil. He chuckles and grabs his knife staring at it with pain in his eyes.

He flicks it across the top of his hand lightly, watching as blood slowly makes its way out of the wound. He doesn't remember exactly when he started doing this, or when it became an actual problem, but he does know that it's been going on for a while. He can remember doing it while he was Stuck with Ontari. He remembers her touching the scars and fresh marks as if she cared, trying to coax him to do what she wanted without forcing it. It always felt wrong. He never wanted her touch, let alone having her touch the scars that show his pain.

Murphy knows he shouldn't think about her. He knows this is what happens every single time he does and nos he's spiraling again. Remembering her touch on his skin as he tried to play along with what she wanted. He remembers the fear that was forced into him as he laid there having to take what she gave him. He tried to think of Emori, but it never worked. He always knew it was Ontari.

Murphy tips his head back and gulps down a few drinks of Alcohol, throwing the bottle afterward in some direction he doesn't know exactly where honestly. He takes the knife, pulls up his Pant leg and cuts his Leg. The blood runs down it but he honestly doesn't care. He just lets it run onto his shoes, onto the floor. He chuckles darkly watching it flow. He closes his eyes just to feel a tear trail down his cheek. He makes a few more cuts on his leg watching as the blood falls together down on the ground.

He gets up, not Caring about the pulling of the wounds on his leg. He knows the others are down the hall. He could go to them, get the help he needs. But he won't. He won't risk being worthless to them again. He's just a waste of oxygen in his eyes. He doesn't help, that was the main reason Emori left him in the first place. He finds himself down the hallway closer to them than he has been in Months. But he knows hes not here for them. He turns to the side finally comprehending where he is. The Airlock. He pushes the red button opening it up and he hears the alarm start blaring, he forces his leg to work enough to walk through the door. He closes the door behind him. He hears yells outside because the comms are on.

"Where's Murphy?" He hears Raven yell. He scoffs and kicks the door. Its great that they care now where he is, it's honestly a little late for that. He's always wondered what being floated felt like. What his father went through for him. His personal theory is that it burns. The cold is so much that it just burns. But he never could find out. Now he can.

"John?" He hears Emori yell from outside. They'll be at the door soon. He can do it before they get there, before she gets there. He can't see them be happy over his death, it'll hurt him even more than ever. He turns to the red button and stares at it. His hand inches towards it and right before he pushes it he hears Emori screaming his name.

"John! Stop! What the hell are you doing?" She screams coming up to the door Banging on it harshly. He looks up at her, seeing she's as beautiful as she always was before. He looks down at the button then at her again.

"Doing what I have to." He says, his voice breaking as he does so. She shakes her head and he runs his hands through his hair turning away from the button.

"You don't NEED me! I'm a waste of space and you know it. I'm worthless! Let me go! You dont love me anymore anyways and I'm tired of this! I'm tired of the pain! I'm tired of feeling her hands on my skin every time i try to think of good things. Every time I think if you I think about her. I think about how I got hung, the torture. All of it. Because my brain with let me be happy! The thoughts won't just go away!" He screams, the tears he's been trying to hold back stream down his face. Emori looks at him in sadness and fear. He hears Heavy footsteps running down the hall towards them and he shakes his head. He grabs his hair and pulls, he realizes it grounds him slightly.

"John. Listen to me," She says lifting her Badass hand to the window in the door to the airlock. Murphy shakes his head looking down, his breath coming in quick bursts, "John! I'm NOT asking, and I'm definitely not joking around. Listen to me right now."

Murphy looks up to her and walks a bit closer to the glass between them. He lifts his hand and places it in the same spot Emori's is.

"Are you listening?" She waits for him to nod before she continues, "You aren't worthless, John. You never will be. You're just going through a rough spot right now, believe me it'll get better okay? Yes, I know you don't believe in all that fairy-tale bullshit, but I don't care. You're strong. You can fight this." She says Looking into his eyes.

"The memories won't go away." He says Looking at her with hope in his eyes. He reaches up to his throat and softly runs his fingers over it. He can Basically feel the rope around his neck. "I don't know what else to do."

"You fight, John. That's what you do. The memories might never go away but they'll get easier to deal with as time goes on. I'm not saying it'll be easy, because hell, I still have bad memories that plague my mind from a long time ago. But just because it's hard, that doesn't mean we should stop being strong.

"You are the strongest man I have ever met, John. You have been through so much, and you're still living with it, but this isn't the way to get through it. You need to fight it." She says breathing deeply, a determination set on her beautiful face.

"Will she ever go away...?" He asks softly deflating against the door. Emori's heart breaks seeing him like this. Seeing him completely broken. She regrets leaving him during this.

"Honestly? I'm not sure. Probably not. At least not right away. But it'll get EASIER. It'll never be perfect but it can get better. Let us help you. When you feel like she's here come to us and we can show you she's not. When you feel her touch and you need us to not touch you, tell us. Let us help you." She says staring at the red button. She hears Raven and Bellamy talking right out of sight, hoping that she could call for them in time if anything happens.

Murphy looks at her deeply and takes a few steps away from the door. The button is right next to him, right under his now outstretched fingertips. He hears Emori gasp and looks at her.

"John, please. We can work through this. All of us. I'm sorry I left you during this. I thought it was just you not Caring about anyone else, but I won't leave again." Emori says starting to tear up.

"Murphy? Hey, man." Bellamy says walking into the hallway where this is happening. "I'm here alright? You're not worthless. And I'm here, and so is everyone else, and we'll make sure you see that."

"Am... Am I broken?" Murphy asks his eyes tearing up again, he walks forward and leans his forehead against the glass. Emori shakes her head immediately and so does Bellamy who's trying to stay farther away than her.

"No, John. John, you're not Broken. You've just been through so much. You'll be alright." Emori says trying to smile in a way she hopes is assuring. She doesn't really know how to feel. She knew about Murphy's self harm issues but she never thought it would spiral all the way to him breaking like this.

"This-" Murphy sighs heavily and his eyes tear up. "This is going to change everything." Murphy finished his sentence and hits his hand against the glass. He pushes the "Open" button of the door separating him from Emori. He takes a few steps and Basically falls into her. Emori holds him close, not wanting to let go of the Man she almost lost. He falls to the ground and so does she, holding him the whole way there.

"It'll be alright, My Cute Thief." Emori says sweetly into his hair as he cries into her neck. She holds him close and Bellamy leans into the wall behind him relieved that Emori could stop him in time. Emori gets up dragging Murphy up with her.

"Let's get you some water alright?" She whispers to him. Murphy nods and clings onto Emori's shirt, following as she walks forward into the main area, where they can grab Murphy some water. Monty And Harper are sitting at a table close by looking on with concern in their eyes. Emori just nods slightly at them and grabs a cup. Murphy doesn't move from where Emori left him when she went to get water. He looks down to his feet and He hears Monty get up from his spot at the table.

"Hey, Man. How you doing?" Monty asks slowly Rising his hand up. Murphy sees it coming and nods slightly at it. Monty puts his hand on hsi shoulder and squeezes. "We're here for you man. You're not alone. I lost Jasper this way and... I'm not letting something like that happen again."

Murphy swallows the lump that formed in his throat and a sob comes out of his mouth, tears still falling. He leans into Monty then, causing Monty to gasp and hug him back. Emori comes back up to them and smiles sadly at the two men. Harper walks up and puts his hand on Murphy's shoulder, to show her support.

"We're here." Harper says softly.

"We're all in this together, man. We just have to stay strong and survive this. It's what Clarke would have wanted." Bellamy says from a few feet away, not Wanting to interrupt too much. He remembers the night he hung Murphy. In explicit detail. Every movement Murphy made, everything. It's hurts to think he made that mistake, which causes Murphy so much pain. Murphy just nods and steps away from Monty.

"Heh, sorry there man. Shirts a little wet." Murphy chuckles out wiping at Monty's shoulder. Monty just shakes his head and pats The other Man's Hand. Echo is sitting at the far end of the table and her and Murphy make eye contact. They nod st each other, in some sort of Unspoken conversation.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and to sleep, we'll get your stuff from the side in the morning." Emori says leaning up and kissing Murphy softly on the Cheek. Murphy smiles and buries hid face in the beautiful women in front of him.

While Emori drags him to their old room, from when before she ended things before, Murphy thinks. He thinks about what the future may hold and the pain he will have to experience. He knows it won't go away, but he also knows he has Emori to help. He has Bellamy, Monty and Harper... And even Echo. He has them. He can get help, and even though the pain worn go away completely, they'll help him live with it.

#johnmurphyfanfiction #john murphy imagine #john murphy x reader #the 100 imagine #memori #john murphy imagines #john murphy #john murphy fanfic #John murphy x Emori

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allyisapunkrocker · 4 years

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Trigger Warning for discussion of depression, suicide, self harm etc.

I don’t think I’ve had as an eventful month in my life as I’ve had in the last month or so other than maybe my last month of high school and schoolies. A month or so ago I tried to admit myself in the hospital for depression and suicidal thoughts as if I didn’t I would’ve cut my arms and my legs and possibly my genitals. I was having a difficult time not being able to deal with my interactions at work and feeling like a freak and like I had no one in my life I could talk to and had an extreme fear of never having anyone close in my life. I was making friends at work though and they’re genuinely lovely people who I’ve always liked and was grateful they were befriending me and trying to help. One of them who is still my favourite person helped me not feel like a freak. I was still self loathing and suicidal though. There were other lovely people who would talk to me and treat me like a person and offered to help me. I went clothes shopping with them which was such an awkward horrible experience despite having amazing company. The shopping part - trying on clothes in the change room was traumatic and had me crying. This and the fact that these people were talking to me and trying to help but weren’t making me feel any better - just made me feel worse and hopeless, like it wasn’t possible for me to feel or get better. My favourite person assured me It was and promised we’d talk after she got back from her trip. She left for her much deserved holiday and very wisely cut herself off from technology and social media and was prioritising her mental health which she has all the right to do and I’m not blaming her or laying any guilt on her or anything like that. I applaud her for prioritising herself and her mental health. It was just difficult for me to not have her to talk to as often as I needed to. I was drinking heavily and considering downing all my medicine in one go or drinking bleach. I had been an absolute toxic nightmare not only to people at work that I didn’t like or care about but to people there that I liked and that care(d) about me. I’d be talking about different violent things I wanted to do to myself as I didn’t care anymore about myself or anything. So at my absolute lowest I went to the hospital - my psychologist Told me that this should be a last resort and in my mind it was. They wouldn’t admit though me and instead gave me a talking to and sent me home saying I could come back and talk if I needed. It was an absolute waste of time and not helpful in the slightest. A week or so later I made an appointment to see a psychiatrist I had that I haven’t seen since I started my job around two years ago.

After seeing my psychologist I started feeling a little better. I was still in a dark deep depression and didn’t have any belief that things could get better but I at least started trying to be grateful for the friends at work and the fact that I was employed at this really bad time. While I was looking for my favourite person to be the friend I thought she was I made another friend in another of my favourite people in the workplace and she would help put things in perspective while also being patient with my toxic bullshit. When my favourite person came back from her break continuing to prioritise her mental health - which I love and hope it helps and that it helps her feel good, it’s the least she deserves - meaning not answering messages until she felt like it or got around to it. It was difficult for me to deal with and it was frustrating but it was more at me as I wasn’t being emotionally mature enough to not take it personally as it’s something she needs to do for her. At the same time my new friend is still patiently helping me through my toxic shit while occasionally showing tough love that at the time I was also struggling with. I wasn’t feeling any better but I had good examples of people I respect and admire and who have overcome horrible mental health problems and demonstrate healthy practices that they work on to improve their lives. These were seeds that were planted in me that have began to grow. I get a lot out of talking to these people. They’re both intelligent and brave and mentally tough. And have huge hearts as well. They’ve become my role models.

So that brings us to the last couple of weeks which pretty much started at my most recent appointment with my psychiatrist. I had believed I could’ve been bipolar due to my drastic changes in moods - which had recently seemed even more severe. She perceptively suggested that it could’ve been a severe mood instability and prescribed me some medication. This medication in conjunction with my realisation that what I wanted in life was people to be close with - friends, lovers etc. however this was an impossibility while i hated myself. No one would want to be around me if I didn’t want to be around me. Also I knew my mood and how I’m feeling couldn’t be dependent on interactions with the people I like. As I was noticing my mood would rise around my favourite people but then drop drastically if the interaction didn’t go how I wanted it to. I would think the worst and always blame myself and try to force things instead of just let whatever happens happen. I need to be in a healthy mindset in order to live the life that I want. So after a few weeks of being on this medication.......

My mental state is the best it’s ever been. I’m in love but I’m not allowing my mood to be dictated by interactions with her or with anyone else I like at work or anywhere. I’m actively working on focusing on the positives in my life and the things I’m grateful for and if things dont go my way I accept it and go on with my day. I’m going to treat and love myself the way I treat people I love and the way I’d want them to treat and love me. I’m going to work on being organised and thoughtful and work on being a good influence in my life. I’m going to use the skills I see my favourite people use in their struggles with their problems to build a repertoire of life skills that help me build a life worth living. I’ve been writing about goals and dreams and I have a mental happy place for the first time since I had soccer as a child. I’ve been getting positive feedback about my writing and people telling me it makes them happy to read which is wonderful to hear because it makes me happy to write. I’m interacting positively with coworkers and have become much better with customers as I’m not letting things I have no control over impact me negatively.

My immediate goals (I cant believe I have goals, the only goals I’ve had for the past 20 years were dying or wanting to want to be alive more than I want to die) are to continue writing and to be there for my friends at work if they need to talk or anything else. I’m going to continue to actively try to be positive and grateful and a safe non judgmental person that people can talk to if they need to vent or need a nonjudgmental ear to talk to. I’m going to try new things and not be scared to fail. I’m going to work at things I need to do to adult properly. I’m going to limit crap I put in my body and watch and limit the negative affects I have on the environment as that’s an important value I want to align my lifestyle choices with. This is such a weird turn of events and a weird time in my life but it’s an amazing change and for the first time since I can remember I have ambitions and goals and dreams for a future where I’m content and surrounded with love and laughter and fashion and the environment.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I guess the purpose of this other than it being an outlet for getting this all off my chest is to show people that things can get better. I’m not saying it will. But it’s possible.

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xelyncraft · 4 years

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Ok, so, I got a comment on my fic recently where the person mentioned that they thought it was weird that when describing characters I include words like "pale" for caucasian characters. I do this for a reason and I'm thinking maybe I should clarify that reason just because it got me thinking deeper on the subject. It's gonna be a long post, so bear with me.

First off, I try my best to avoid terms like "black" or "white" when writing character descriptions, simply because they are not accurate, can be easily misinterpreted, and feed a racist stereotype that I'm not too fond of for obvious reasons. I try to use color names that are actual terms for hues and shades such as sepia or bronze, or if I must compare the color to something to get the idea across, I avoid using demeaning objects or food especially because food items like "chocolate" are commonly used to fetishize persons of color and I want to write real, human, people, not sex objects.

That being said, I strongly believe that "white" or caucasian people are NOT the default and should not be written as such. It's just as important to include their skin color in a character design as people of color because I dont want to encourage the idea that assuming any person's skin tone is light if not specified is normal or ok. It's demeaning to latinas, asians, people of middle eastern or African decent, and really anyone that isn't caucasian to just assume that a character has pale skin because that's what is "normal". I've got news for you. Normal comes in all sorts of shades, sizes, and shapes and I'm going to differentiate character's appearances no matter what category of "normal" they fall under.

I strongly believe that diversity is beautiful and racism has been a concept that has alluded me since I was a child. Sometimes my lack of understanding it, despite my best efforts to educate myself on the issue, comes off as ignorance and offensive and this is not at all my intention. I am deeply sorry to anyone I have upset for this. However, I try my best to keep an open mind and continue learning while using what knowledge I do have to be as respectful as possible to all people, no matter what they look like, where they come from, what they've been through, what they believe, or how they choose to love. It is my strong belief that we as humans were never meant to be the same. Diversity in all things is beautiful and we should use it to lift each other up, support each other in adversity, and use our different strengths to be a team working together to make the world a better place. Although each puzzle piece is a different shape, each one is necessary to form a complete picture.

So yes, when I describe my characters, I include their skin color and many other physical traits, no matter what race they are. I do not do it in an attempt to put a cultural devide between them or to feed into stereotypes or stigmas. I do it to show that they are different and BEAUTIFUL, not DESPITE their diversities, but BECAUSE of them. Also, I'd like to add that what the character's I write about look like is not nearly as important as who they are as people and their appearance is not usually very relevant to that and a character's physical design is NOT a substitute for a personality.

So there you have it. That is why I write skin color the way I do. My opinion may not be entirely accurate, I'm not perfect, I'm still learning and growing just like everyone else. Your opinion may be different and no more wrong or right than my own, but all our opinions and beliefs are equally valid. If you reblog or comment on this or what have you, please, feel free to share your thoughts and feelings on the matter in a RESPECTFUL way. I try very hard to keep an open mind and love discussion on such topics to broaden my horizons. However, I do strongly ask that any discussion remain civil, friendly, and an open minded sharing of ideas in conversation, not debate. The moment it turns into an argument where people are trying to force others to conform to their own views, that's when things get ugly and I do not want that. Be accepting. Hold on to your own beliefs while still being able to consider other's and respect them. We all need to love each other more.

P.S. I am including this link to a blog that gives excellent tips on writing about characters with various skin tones, as well as a screenshot of a thread I bookmarked on wattpad because they had some very valid points as well that can help improve my fellow writer's skills if they are interested.

https://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com/post/96830966357/writing-with-color-description-guide-words-for

#writing techniques #character description #writing skin tones #diversity #love and respect

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zombiequincy · 4 years

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THE MEGA RP PLOTTING SHEET / MEME.

First and foremost, recall that no one is perfect, we all had witnessed some plotting once which did not went too well, be it because of us or our partner. So here have this, which may help for future plotting. It’s a lot! Yes, but perhaps give your partners some insight? Anyway BOLD what fully applies, italicize if only somewhat.

MUN NAME: Hela AGE: 21 CONTACT: IM

CHARACTER(S): Giselle Gewelle, Yumichika Ayasegawa (inactive)

CURRENT FANDOM(S): Bleach

BLEACH FANDOM(S) YOU HAVE AN AU FOR: I have gory Bloodborne au but that one just exists in my head on my lonesome.

MY LANGUAGE(S): English and one very specific Middle Eastern dialect.

THEMES I’M INTERESTED IN FOR RP: FANTASY / Science fiction / Horror / WESTERN / ROMANCE / Thriller / MYSTERY / DYSTOPIA / ADVENTURE / MODERN / Erotic / Crime / MYTHOLOGY / Classic / HISTORY / RENAISSANCE / MEDIEVAL / Ancient / WAR / FAMILY / POLITICS / RELIGION / SCHOOL / ADULTHOOD / CHILDHOOD / APOCALYPTIC / GODS / Sport / MUSIC / Science / FIGHTS / ANGST / Smut / DRAMA / etc.

PREFERRED THREAD LENGTH: one-liner / 1 para / 2 PARA / 3+ / NOVELLA.

ASKS CAN BE SEND BY: MUTUALS / NON-MUTUALS / PERSONALS / ANONS.

CAN ASKS BE CONTINUED?: YES / NO only by Mutuals?: YES / NO.

PREFERRED THREAD TYPE: CRACK / casual nothing too deep / SERIOUS / DEEP AS HECK. (i love it all sorry I am quite the mixed bag lmao)

IS REALISM / RESEARCH IMPORTANT FOR YOU IN CERTAIN THEMES?: YES / NO. i gotta know what certain human body parts taste like u know

ARE YOU ATM OPEN FOR NEW PLOTS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

DO YOU HANDLE YOUR DRAFT / ASK - COUNT WELL?: YES / NO / SOMEWHAT. it’s SO BAD FOR ME RN ASGLDKJDJKA i’m very inconsistent i’m so sorry.

HOW LONG DO YOU USUALLY TAKE TO REPLY?: 24H / 1 WEEK / 2 WEEKS / 3+ / months / years. / a lot of it has more to do w my general writing mood and if the thread im writing catches my interest, and rn im writing a TON of really wonderful and fascinating threads so they’re all super captivating for me and i try to reply asap

I’M OKAY WITH INTERACTING: ORIGINAL CHARACTERS / a relative of my character (an oc) / duplicates / MY FANDOM / CROSSOVERS / MULTI-MUSES / self-inserts / people with no AU verse for my fandom / CANON-DIVERGENT PORTRAYALS / AU-VERSIONS.

DO YOU POST MORE IC OR OOC?: IC / OOC. (i have a lot of stupid shit sorry)

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WITH FOLLOWING OTHERS?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

BEST WAYS TO APPROACH YOU FOR RP/PLOTTING: just send me a tumblr instant message, i know it sucks shit but im not comfy releasing my discord w everyone just yet cause i use it for personal use as well. i check tumblr on the daily so if you send me a message chances are i’ll see it and respond!

WHAT EXPECTATIONS DO YOU HOLD TOWARDS YOUR PLOTTING PARTNER: i guess just be able to put up with my rambling and stopping and starting, a lot of characterisation choices i do go through various stages and its pretty messy so when i communicate that with others it usually ends up equally messy. just be patient with me please.

WHEN YOU NOTICE THE PLOTTING IS RATHER ONE-SIDED, WHAT DO YOU DO?: i don’t mind! sometimes ppl have more ideas that they want to share first and i’m always super happy to listen to those ideas !! sometimes its nice to have someone with a clear guide or structure and be able to work around that rather than trying to fumble through a plot together.

HOW DO YOU USUALLY PLOT WITH OTHERS, DO YOU GIVE INPUT OR LEAVE MOST WORK TOWARDS YOUR PARTNER?: i try to map out some basic info abt their characters that i otherwise don’t know from their bio or verses and try to pick out points of confrontation or similarities to expand on with giselle that can be used as points for like a starter to happen. its either that or sometimes i have really stupid ideas i just toss out there like ‘LMAO THEYRE BREAKING SHIT AT DISNEYLAND’ and go buck wild from there if the other person is down. i also always try to warn people or get a gauge for what subjects to avoid and steer clear of considering that giselle is a bit of a Freak(tm) and will say and do bad things.

WHEN A PARTNER DROPS THE THREAD, DO YOU WISH TO KNOW?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. - And why?: if there’s something giselle did or said that upset you, i would love to know not to repeat it again (since i do still feel pretty new to the rp game, theres still plenty of time for me to make stupid mistakes). if its just a general lack of interest or uncertainty of where the plot should go, then you dont have to tell me i wont take it personally i promise !

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY LEAD YOU TO DROP A THREAD?: sometimes i can be made uncomfortable by certain things mentioned... it happens but its rare

- WILL YOU TELL YOUR PARTNER?: YES / NO / DEPENDS. i don’t want to upset anyone personally and sometimes explaining the ins and outs of my discomfort make things ten times worse so i just. would rather not.

IS COMMUNICATION IN THE RPC IMPORTANT TO YOU? YES / NO.

- AND WHY?: i am the most nervous person you can meet and my brain is always giving me misinfo abt paranoia and random shit so i having clear concrete communication between two parties abt if something is going wrong or is being received poorly means the world to me.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH ABSOLUTE HONESTY, EVEN IF IT MAY MEANS HEARING SOMETHING NEGA1TIVE ABOUT YOU AND/OR PORTRAYAL?: i need it !! i still feel relatively new to all this and i need to know whats going wrong to improve !!

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE SUCH SITUATION IN A MATURE WAY? YES / NO.

WHY DO YOU RP AGAIN, IS THERE A GOAL?: to help with my confidence in writing! i have v bad anxiety when it comes to sharing my works and i write a lot of other pieces alongside this blog on ao3 and i want to develop my writing skills just in general. when it comes to like the nuts and bolts of why i rp giselle specifically, its mainly to just have fun and have a laugh w my friends who are really awesome quincy writers

WISHLIST, BE IT PLOTS OR SCENARIOS: OH SO MANY! ive managed to fulfil a lot of my wishlist threads with like, giselle talking to characters she’s already zombified and i love all that angst but i want to do more stupid shit. i want to make it my personal goal to bully every quincy man and woman on sight. although a REAL dream would be if i got to write a thread zombifying a character who managed to escape giselle’s clutches. and more fighting! i want to get better at describing action and fights and i love to write giselle getting beat up and beating people up! more more more!!

THEMES I WON’T EVER RP / EXPLORE: hohoho theres a LOT... uh r*pe/dubcon threads for one, even if yeah i know writing it doesnt condone it, it makes me intensely uncomfortable to put my muse in that scenario, i feel like i have an obligation to like, protect her from that shit you know? racism is one i don’t want to transgress, even though i’m a poc, its not really cathartic or groundbreaking to write abt racism in threads its just... really fucking upsetting. also i know the quincy’s have this very close parallel to the whole n*zi imagery and ideology thing going on and i am not about to start even daring to thread that into my writing or bring those allusions and references of real life tragedies into giselle’s threads. i’ve already talked at length abt exploring giselles trans identity in rp and why im not comfortable doing so, so.... yeah! all those i guess.

WHAT TYPE OF STARTERS DO YOU PREFER / DISLIKE, CAN’T WORK WITH?: i like starters where giselle can just immediately get right into being a piece of shit. mise en scene and all that! cut out the build up and just get to the intense horror !! i don’t like starters where its not immediately clear where the characters are standing and what they’re doing and what’s happening around them. those really disorientate me and leave me kinda floundering because i always need some allusion or mention of a setting to ground giselle in a time and place other wise i cant tell what her response should be

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE MOST?: EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN EVIL WOMEN. also just characters i can wholeheartedly clown on, or also characters who have hidden depths to them and have a single panel of screentime. honestly it’s just all over the place!

WHAT TYPE OF CHARACTERS CATCH YOUR INTEREST THE LEAST?: angry old men GSADJDKSJA i could never rp yhwach for example or yamamoto because idk. theyre just so crummy and boring to me. i also couldnt rp characters who always have an upper hand in battle like aizen. i like my dumbasses and i like them stupid and adaptive not just, ‘yes i know this because i Know this.’

WHAT ARE YOUR STRONG ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: i think im nice...? FKSJDKDJSA idk i hate trying to toot my own horn. sometimes i also think i make funny jokes and im pretty chill and laid back

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAK ASPECTS AS RP PARTNER?: my writing style is inconsistent and adapts to whatever i’m reading so sometimes it’ll be really good and i love it and other times it reads like really bad fanfic and i get carried away far too easily and write novella lengths for threads which should be much shorter. i also get shy a lot and dont think i communicate very effectively but HEYO we’re working on it!

DO YOU RP SMUT?: YES / NO/ DEPENDS. haven’t had anybody brave enough to try yet lol

DO YOU PREFER TO GO INTO DETAIL?: YES / NO / DEPENDS.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH BLACK CURTAIN?: YES / NO.

- WHEN DO YOU RP SMUT? MORE OUT OF FUN OR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT?: more for fun i’d imagine because that’s just giselles own attitude to sex and relationships where she doesnt want anything deep. it might show character development in one way of just showing how she regards others in a romantic sense to be used rather than actually appreciated as their own person and show how selfish she is but yeah, more out of fun

- ANYTHING YOU WOULD NOT WANT TO RP THERE?: theres a few kinks and such but i dont think they’d ever really come up. again, just mainly no r*pe/dubcon.

ARE SHIPS IMPORTANT TO YOU?: YES / NO lets hope this doesn’t make me sound like an asshole, but its more like a fun little side thing than anything important to giselle’s actual development and characterisation.

WOULD YOU SAY YOUR BLOG IS SHIP-FOCUSED?: YES / NO. again, hardly anyone is brave enough to try to romance this evil cannibal.

DO YOU USE READ MORE?: YES / NO / SOMETIMES WHEN I WRITE LONG STUFF.

ARE YOU: MULTI-SHIP / Single-Ship / Dual-Ship — MULTIVERSE / Singleverse.

- WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO EXPLORE THE MOST IN YOUR SHIPS?: more how giselle likes to give over her power or dominate in different circumstances depending on who she’s with and what’s being done. BUT AGAIN, not a whole lot to explore yet.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS?: YES / NO. - i mean im down for p much anything if it vibes w giselle.

► SECTION ABOUT YOUR MUSE.

- WHAT COULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOUR MUSE INTERESTING TOWARDS OTHERS, WHY SHOULD THEY RP WITH THIS PARTICULAR CHARACTER OF YOURS NOW, WHAT POSSIBLE PLOTS DO THEY OFFER?: if you want an evil woman to taunt and mock and hurt your muse, she’s your gal. you want her to zombify and ruin your muse, shes also your gal. you want her to insult and maim and injure, she’s also YOUR GAL. basically, if you want to do anything fucked up or sad or scary, she can help with that.

- WITH WHAT TYPE OF MUSES DO YOU USUALLY STRUGGLE TO RP WITH?: uh muses who get really angry quickly or don’t rise or respond to her jabs and are just kinda like a flatline. theres only so much pestering and annoying she can do until realises its not working and just wanders off

- WHAT DO THEY DESIRE, IS THEIR GOAL?: to find a goal worth living for.

- WHAT CATCHES THEIR INTEREST FIRST WHEN MEETING SOMEONE NEW?: appearance she always takes an interest in girls almost right away. age as well because she judges old people.

- WHAT DO THEY VALUE IN A PERSON?: a good set of guts to ruin and strong muscles.

- WHAT THEMES DO THEY LIKE TALKING ABOUT?: women, gore, murder, herself, music, stupid memes, gossip.

- WHICH THEMES BORE THEM?: politics, history, quincy ideology, soul reaper ideology, hollow physiology.

- DID THEY EVER WENT THROUGH SOMETHING TRAUMATIC?: her family tried to force the burden of upholding the quincy lineage onto her shoulders, she was thrown into the wrong prison and held in isolation, then pressured to become an undying monster in service of a god and then was nearly killed by that same man and left wandering without guidance or purpose. so, yeah?

- WHAT COULD LEAD TO AN INSTANT KILL?: transphobia. even a whiff of it in her direction and she’ll gut you like a fish.

- IS THERE SOMEONE /-THING THEY HATE?: the twink soul reaper who outted her.

IS YOUR MUSE EASY TO APPROACH?: YES / NO. - Best ways to approach them?: if you’re smart, you’ll bring a big bone for her to chew on and distract her while you ask whatever you want.

SOMETHING YOU MAY STILL WANT TO POINT OUT ABOUT YOUR MUSE?: i love my evil queen!

CONGRATS!!! You managed it, now tag your mutuals! ♥

Tagged by: @bazzardburner cheers chicken boy !!

Tagging: @hyouketsu @blooming5th @viciousvizard @glacies-tempestatem and whoever else wishes to do this!!

#dash games #// this took ages....

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