#killing abuse survivors is cruel
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Having very very shitty Griffin Callenreese thoughts again. His name is going to utterly dissappear. Literally nobody knows him. Nobody could think of him, even Max as he tries will mourn for a man he scarcely knew for longer than he knew him. Literally just tried to support his brother in his shitty family with an abusive father, got turned into a lab rat and got brutally murdered by a man who he was kind to. Out of all people Abraham could have viciously hurt like that he chose Griff, who meant no harm, who was "the only one who didn't bully him" Griffin was never cruel to anyone and this is the lot he gets.
#bringing literally everything i can think of just murders me#obvs it isnt ash's fault but griff gave up his entire life to take care of his brother because nobody else would#got conscripted/enlisted in the army and gets nothing but agony in return#amongst MANY other reasons i think this is why ash def shoudve lived#killing abuse survivors is cruel#griff is the contextual ghost#ash fought back against dino for him#the banana fish mess started partly because of him#and even ash and max i feel as if never truly knew him to begin with#it kills me#banana fish#griffin callenreese my beloved repivotal ghost of the series#griffin callenreese#max lobo#max glenreed#ash lynx#aslan jade callenreese#bfish#abraham dawson
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Alrighty cool, thank you for clearing that up (and in such a timely manner too)!
So, lemme cook here... with some Angst + Hurt/Comfort >:D
Arlecchino with a Fem!S/O who's the "Mother" to the children of the House. She was among the survivors of the previous Knave's regime over the House of Hearth. With her and Arle having had perhaps a kind of mutual crush that was only truly pursued after Arle killed "mother".
Basically, the scenario for the request is when Arlecchino' and her's S/O are taking care of one of the kids of the House after they're badly injured after a mission, and... needles to say... they don't make it. And during when Arle and S/O are visiting the kid's grave to pay their respect's, S/O begins to muse "you'd think I'd be used to having to bury children, after..." before starting to break down.
Ooooh, I love your brain, Anon!! Thank you so much for this great request!! I have to admit that whilst writing this, I actually liked the idea of making this super angsty and kind of bitter (like most of my fics lmao-) so I hope you like it despite the lack of comfort anyway-
Content: Heavy angst, vague mentions of past child abuse, murder, death, reader is Female and referred to as "Mother/wife", mentions of heavy injuries and blood, controlling behavior from/ooc Arlecchino?, kind of bitter ending, children dying, grief
Reader has she/her pronouns
((Not proofread!!!))
Buried angels and that odd wish to live. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)
In a way, you often wondered why the young ones often wished to live when they knew that their end was nearing. Their eyes would widen, breaths becoming sharper and shorter, mouths closing and opening in panic before they'd whisper those words you had heard so many times. Their deaths always followed closely after, eyes dimming, their soul finally disappearing with the blown out candles, the sweet scent mingling with the smell of blood and burnt flesh. In the light of the moon filtering through an open window, you'd see the grim reaper staring at you in mirrors and your crimson stained palms, a thoughtful look on her face, one asking a simple question she might forever ask you.
"What did you expect?"
And you'd reply by looking away from your own image, away from the guilt and self-doubt and into the eyes of the woman who made all these children utter that odd wish in the first place.
Your hands shook, held up high as you peered into the crime of a mother who couldn't save her child, raised as though pleading for the forgivness of a god that was mightier than the one you worked for. One that was less cruel, despite the heart everyone claimed she had. And yet, they were enveloped by a towel instead, that wiped away the sins and hurt, even if just for a moment. "There is... nothing we could have done to save her, Mother." Lyney whispered quietly to you, perhaps afraid of being too loud and disturbing someone who couldn't even ever bother to hear him anymore. He tried to be reassuring, but it did little when you just couldn't look away from your wife.
Arlecchino. The Knave. A highly ranked harbinger, whose heart always belonged to you from the start, although with great difficulties that took you years to overcome.
The first time she made you stain your hands with blood was when she killed the woman that raised you two, the first and only woman you ever called "Mother." Although the gentleness and nurturing part of her title was just a simple facade, it still shaped you both greately. You had sworn to do better, to become a better mother to all the children you both took in after marriage and Arlecchino... she seemed to have trned against that title. She believed that being a "father" was more fitting. The right way to raise the children of the Hearth family. Cold and detached, yet firm and guiding.
It made you opposites at times. Painfully different opposites. You became a secret haven of safety for the children, a place they can hide away in, whenever their "Father's" wrath came after them. And you've fought so hard to be this gentle. You killed, murdered, slaughtered your way out of fate. You dragged yourself out of hell, you bled, you cried endless tears. You wanted to prove that you could do better and you ultimately did now... or so you thought. You began doubting it years ago, and it's what made you find their wish to live so odd. Was it an instinct, or did they actually view their life's with you two as desirable, something to live for, when all they did in the end was suffer?
"Mother." Lyney said again, this time a little louder, this time enough to make you glance up at him. His face was a blurry shadow, the light falling over his shoulders and illuminating his head like a halo, as he pushed the towel rather hastily into a nearby laundry basket. You'd never get the stains out, and so it would most likely be thrown away, perhaps burried with the young girl. "Let's... get you cleaned up, okay? I... we will take care of the rest." The change in his wording made you press your lips together. It wasn't anyone's job to do this except your own, and for a moment, you imagined yourself curling up next to the child that died crying and begging for you to save it.
You stood up only barely on shaking knees, trembling hand reaching out to close the small girls eyes, and you could feel the cold tears and skin stinging your palm. "It is alright, Lyney. Your father and I will take care of her ourselves..." You looked over your shoulder at the woman who had yet to move or say anything ever since she silently entered the room a while ago. You could see the cold glint of her eyes in the dark, her face otherwise covered by the shadows as she sat calmy and collected in her chair. She knew it was over the moment the girl was brought in by a couple of Fatui agents, th failure of her mission being crystal clear by the deep wounds and burns on her body. She never stood a chance. She wasn't experienced enough, not skilled enough. But the weak get eaten, as the Knave would often say.
Lyney gave you a hesitant look, his mouth opening to protest before he stilled at his Father crossing his legs expectantly. He understood the silent order. "... Ofcourse, Mother. Call my name if there is anything I can do for you." He said, a hand on his chest as he bowed before quickly taking his leave. When the door creaked open, you could have sworn to see the flickers of Lynette and Freminet staring back at you solemnly before they disappeared in the presence of their brother. You stared at the closed door for an unknown while, nearly zoning out, until you let out a shaky sigh. "Make her grave beautiful, perhaps with a blue ribbon attached to it. She loved those." You muttered, the exhaustion finally hitting you full force and making you feel faint. Your body felt heavy, feet dragging across the floor as you also made your exit, the only awknowledgement you received being in the form of the woman leaning her head against her palm idly whilst she closed those cursed eyes of hers.
---
There wasn't much of a funeral for the child.
A couple Fatui agents simply made a hole in the ground like they did with all the others and then lowered the small casket into it, before tossing dirt back in until it disappeared and only the stone with her was left as proof that the child ever even existed. It was a routine at this point, one everyone was used to. Everyone but you. Perhaps the years had made you soft. Perhaps the love and gentleness you gave these children had made you weak. But here you were, standing under the rain and staring at the grave for hours now, unmoving. The water had drenched through your clothes, ran down your face, made you shiver from the cold, despite feeling too numb to fully realise that. Arlecchino stood at your side, an umbrella laying in the wet dirt by her heeled feet from when you pushed it out of her hands and away from you defiantly.
The silence was deafening, filled with the constant tapping of water against your clothes, the metal on the Knave's uniform, and the stone of the sea of graves around you. "How many..." You whispered weakly, trying to form words through incoherent thoughts and the lack of sleep you've had lately. "... do I have to see die before it's enough?" Arlecchino said nothing, and you were nearly convinced that she didn't hear you if it wasn't for her hand twitching.
You let out a disbelieving laugh, a hand covering your face, trying to ease the pain that plagued you deeply. "You'd think that I'd be used to burying children by now... but I... it hurts me." You didn't want to break. In fact, you had never broken before. But as you stood there amongst the many angels that you burried, the many angels that had all once stained your hands red, you began to wonder why you ever even agreed to this. You weren't like your wife. You couldn't be a "Father". You just didn't want to be one.
You buried your face into your hands, imagining the suffocating feeling of their final wish being the same as the pain of strangulation. They reached for the skies and reached for freedom they could only brush shortly with their fingertips before they were covered in dirt to never see what they desperately yearned for again.
"We always took pride in having become something better, different than her... and yet look at us, Peruere! We just became exact copies of her instead! Oh, the shame!" You whispered through strained sobs, voice distorted as you crumbled to the ground in guilt. You had been defeated, and yet Arlecchino still stood so tall, her eyes staring at your shivering and trembling form. She didn't say a word, or perhaps she didn't know what to say. "How many children will you make me stain my hands for?" You asked finally, but the silence told you all.
Peruere loved the children you raised together. But Arlecchino, the Knave, had an objective, a mission. Eat or be eaten, a reality that even hurt her deep down. And yet the curse she had since birth prevented her from feeling it any further than a passing acknowledgement.
"... Stand up, (Y/N). We need to get home... our children await us." She simply responded after your heavy breaths became shallow, and you simply laid there limply at the foot of the grave. But her voice conveyed a certain gentleness she only ever extends to you. It was like the warmth of a summer rain, refreshing and light as it rippled through your heart. With swollen eyes, you watched her reach an ungloved hand out to you, her gaze expectant and yet so unreadable. You felt like a child that powered itself out after a tantrum, the exhaustion and defeat crippling your soul, when you finally just took her hand after what felt like a long moment of consideration.
She hummed a gentle praise against your ear as you slumped against her, face pressed to her shoulder whilst you trembled now from the cold that nipped at your skin through your drenched clothes. Arlecchino wrapped an arm around you, her pensive and yet still so stern gaze drifting through the graveyard filled with those buried angels, as you often called them. Perhaps it was a moment of calm reflection, that made her grab onto your face and wipe away a tear.
"You are nothing like her." And yet, the Knave didn't deny that she might have fallen to her fate herself. Just not you. Never you. "These tears, this hurt you speak of, they are all proof of it. You shed tears for them, for us. Only a good mother could do such a thing." The words she spoke had a deep meaning, one only you two understood, and that made your heart flutter. You looked away, trying your best not to burst into tears again at the tragedy of the situation, but it was so hard when Arlecchino got like this. She only rarely showcased such blatant affection, such blatant declaration of her deep yet rather complicated love for you as her wife. "Please... Let's go home..." You simply whispered, which made her nod in approval.
You gazed up at the skies as you walked away, sunlight beginning to filter through the thick clouds and making you frown bitterly as it warmed your face. Arlecchino's hand meanwhile rested against your back, her watchful eyes gliding across the endless meadows you passed by, and for a moment, she could hear her children laughing, squealing and frolicking through the tall grass. They chased each other in a game of tag, running as fast as they could away from the two of you, over a hill and into what the Knave imagined to be their freedom far from her cold and stern ways. She cracked a bitter smile, one of acceptance as she glanced down at your tired, silently crying and trembling form.
Arlecchino was perhaps wrong after all. Maybe in the end the children did need a loving, nurturing mother instead.
What a shame, that it was too late to go back now.
Alright, so this took me all day to write, and I'm not sure if it's good, because I'm still very sick... but I still hope you liked this, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!!<33
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact fanfic#genshin x reader#genshin arlecchino#genshin arlecchino x reader#arleccino genshin#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino x you#genshin
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Shades of Red
art in the cover by @ave661 and @shkretart !
chapter one | chapter two | ao3 | masterlist
✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x civilian f! reader
✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you'll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won't.
✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;
A/N: Hello girlies! This is the very first time I get the courage to actually post something I wrote. I've been reading y'all fics behind my screen for so much time now I figured I could start postingggg; so please be gentle with the feedbacks, but be also sincere ♥ also, English is not my first language and although I'm fluent, there might be a mistake or two along the way. Don't feel shy in pointing it out if you see any! Moreover, this will be a long ass one I'm pretty sure, but I might get myself some more courage to post my smut oneshots in some near future. Hope you enjoy! x
Chapter 1 - The Incident | 3.3k
There was ash in the air everywhere. That scenario didn’t frighten him – in fact, Ghost was absolutely sure that at that point in his life, almost nothing could fright him. He had seen much worse things before, he thought silently as he walked towards the building completely destroyed. There was debris everywhere – the building had not collapsed completely, but some parts did not survive the flames and now there seemed to be not even a little bit of life in that place. There were still small portions of flames spread through a few heaps of debris, a terrible smell of wood and burnt concrete; but nothing of that could be worse than the smells of dead, flattered human flesh that once or again invaded his nostrils.
His eyes rolled around in search of any record of life. In vain, he knew: there was no chance that any civilian had survived that. A cruel, dark bombing, a violent and destructive terrorist act. The only goal was to destroy any form of life that could inhabit there, and possibly it had been obtained without any further circumstances. When Price sent the radio search order to all members of the 141, he made it very clear that those efforts were in vain. They would find nothing. We lost today, he said. We could not foresee this, nor can we remedy it. It was a burden they had to cope with on a daily basis - the often inability to do something, to act, was a burden that a soldier should carry. It was part of the job.
Ghost pressed the point button in his ear. “Is anyone listening?” He asked, his eyes checking the entire perimeter of the building behind the skull mask that covered his face. “Have you found something, LT?” Soap answered, his voice hushed by the efforts. “No. I’m making an entrance, there’s nothing out here.” the lieutenant stated, kicking off a few remaining pieces of concrete from the front of his feet and laying the rifle in his hands. Ghost stood in front of the main entrance to the building – that place that should have looked like a reception at some point in the near past - and the movement of his boots against the ground caused the roof above his head to shake a little, and some ash particles fell onto his helmet. He observed the movement, standing still for a few seconds, only for warranty; he did not want to end up becoming one more of those burial victims.
When the concrete whisper finally stopped stirring his ears, he entered. The lamp of his helmet lit up, and he looked around. His eagle eyes did not lose an inch of that entire perimeter, his ears attentive as those of a bat. He was looking for a sign, whatever it was: a presence, a scream, voices, calls for help. Anything. Anyone.
All he could hear were the sounds of the structure of the building, apparently ready to give in. Ghost tried to enter one of the apartments; his boots sole hit the semi-destroyed grinded surface of the door, and he broke in. He looked around. An enormous smashed chandelier rested violently against the bloody body of a child.
Many people said Simon was the type of man to have no feelings anymore. That time, scars and trauma had taken from him all and every kind of humanity. He had become a soldier—one of the good, one of the invincible, but nothing aside from that. Nothing but a soldier.
Perhaps that sentence became so repetitive that at some point, he, himself began to believe it. His face remained motionless. The sound of the blood drops hanging on the floor filled his ears, and he snorted for a moment, pressing the point into his ear. “First floor, apartment 102,” he said, coordinating other operators to head to start collecting the bodies.
His eyes went up to the ceiling, facing the huge blunt in the structure that caused the luster to fall. Maybe the parents' bodies were still there somewhere to be found, he thought. But that wasn’t his job, and unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. He then traced his steps out of the apartment, looking around. As he kept going upstairs, the lantern lit up one hand or another thrown out of a pile of debris. Broken legs, the kinds of horrors that haunt the dreams of ordinary people.
As Price had said and as he imagined to be fact, there were no survivors. Even when he reached the last floor, without any hope that he would find any movement that were not spasms of lifeless bodies, he tried. He tried to find someone, to do his job with all the mastery he could. His voice echoed through the entire floor, looking for anyone who could answer, but as expected, there was no response.
All that was left was the subsoil, the garage. When he came down the lobby again and found a portion of the staff dragging out some bodies, placing them in black bags, one of the doctors caught his attention. “Lieutenant. Have you finished checking around? Nothing up there?” The man asked, pulling his glasses from the tip of his nose. Ghost is negative. “No, nothing,” he said bluntly.
The doctor seemed to bite his own jaw with some strength, in disappointment. He has baffled. “You don’t even have to check down there. If those above didn’t survive...” he said, giving on his shoulders. Ghost watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finally answering, “Focus on your work, doc. I’ll finish my own.” He said in a nod before starting to push with his crude hands the stones that covered the entrance to the stairs that led to the garage.
His steps echoed. Ghost walked through the parking lot, passed pillar by pillar, checked every car. There were bursting pipes releasing hot steam, a gas leak as well he could tell – and he didn’t want to be there to see what would happen if some kind of ignition occurred. He hastened his steps. He took a deep breath; he was about to press his point and give up, claiming that there were no survivors, but a stifling sound interrupted his action. He looked around, looking for the source of the heavy breath and the little grumbling of pain he heard. His eyebrows cracked almost instantly and he turned around himself, looking around. All his senses were activated at that moment – he began to walk through among the few cars there, following the sound he had heard and then, a hand hitting the air dropped debris to the side of what seemed to be a body. He approached cautiously, throwing the light from his helmet’s lantern in the direction of the sound, and to his surprise, although not perceptible, there was the only survivor of the bombing: you.
A small, female frame shrunk from a pile of debris. Your hair was covered in ashes, your face - the dirty cheeks with the blackness of the material, your arms painted in the scarlet of your blood flowing freely to the ground, glass blades attached painfully to your soft skin. There was a cut down from the top of your forehead until the beginning of your left eyebrow. The completely messy strands of your hair fell against your face, opaque, bright. The expression of fear on your eyes turned into pure terror the moment they met his own, those small cold orbs inside the mask. You instinctively tried to move away from him, push your body away from those debris, away from that huge and frightening man.
When you threw your body to the side, all you could feel was your back against the cold floor, your left leg refused to work. You felt nauseous, stupid, your head turned. Your mouth trembled in a failed attempt to say something, the silence already lasted for seconds enough for you to fear his frame standing ever so tall and quiet. “Please don’t hurt me.” You managed to say, your voice engulfed in a cry that refused to go out. It wasn’t as if it was going to work; if he was one of the terrorists who caused this incident and really wanted to hurt you, then you were at his mercy and there was little you could do about it.
Maybe, if you were in a better mental and physical condition, you’d be able to identify that the rifle in the hands of the man in front of yourself was of a military model. That all his gear pointed out that he was an operator, someone willing to help. Your mind could not process all the necessary information about him at the given moment, although.
“I will not hurt you, lass.” He explained, and for a moment you felt your chest swell in air and it was hard to contain the immense desire to cry. The heavy steps of the man were made against your small, wounded body. He lowered himself, letting the rifle rest next to him quietly. You gulped in dry, still nervous with your eyes raised to his, now a little closer to you. He wasn’t looking at you — he was looking down, seeming to assess how hurt you were. “I’ll tell you what’s happening now. Okay?” He asked, slowly and calmly, his cold eyes now facing your own, visualizing your soul behind the cover of this hurt shell of yours. You stumbled, and he continued. “I’ll take that away from you, and I need you to help me helping you. Alright? You will be well. I just need you to hold your leg and when I push it over, you roll. Understood?” The man asked, his firm and deep voice being the first source of human contact you had since the lightning caused you to wipe out unconscious hours before. You came in for confirmation.
Ghost nodded back and raised his fingers, counting to three. Contrary to what you might have imagined, he didn’t need to do much to lift the huge concrete block that blocked his left leg from moving — he even had some ease in doing so. He held the concrete above his body, his arms backed over you, he sat down. “Roll.” he commanded, and you obeyed as you could. You leaned her hands on the ground and gave a boost; one of your hands instinctively went to the wounded leg, in an attempt to warm up the pain now felt by finally having released it from the rubble. You couldn’t hold a moan of pain, but he was quickly stifled by the sound of concrete hitting the ground when Ghost let it fall back.
You mentally begged that you could endure that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and a certain despair arose through your throat, your mouth. The anguish of finally feeling the unpleasant smell of the environment, the nervousness of realizing that very possibly, few other people survived that disaster, it was overwhelming your already troubled mind.
Ghost didn’t lose a second in time; he finished positioning the rifle around his body and you felt his arms wrapping you by the waist and the folds of your knees, and he lifted it up with immense ease – it was as if you were featherweight. The gloves in his hands were rough against the sensitivity of your skin, but his touch was as cautious as possible. You could say without a doubt that this soldier of at least twice your height was doing his best not to hurt you any more than you’re already wounded.
“What is your name?” He finally asked, his rifle resting on his back, and you resting over his arms. He wasn’t looking at you – his eyes were fixed ahead, in the direction he was carrying you to, the exit. You answered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You can call me Ghost. I am a soldier, yes? We will take care of you.” He said in a clear tactical attempt to calm your nervousness down.
You sat down with your head. “Amelie Miller... Did you find her? My friend, she... did you find her?” You asked, your body trembled as you came to realize his eyes were now boring into yours.
He seemed to look for words that would not hurt you as much as the ones he had to say, but he for one, was not good with words or comforting.
“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, in a sigh. “there are no more survivors. You were the only one.”
~ x ~
Your head hurt. Everything hurt; body, arms. There was a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water still sealed in your hands. The look in your eyes was empty, blurred; there were a lot of people there. Many doctors, many operators - soldiers like Ghost. One of them wore a mohican, the other had thick eyebrows. The captain was talking to them in an isolated corner, the doctors were talking to each other about your condition, about what should be done from now on. There were agents from the British intelligence surrounding the site, and there were about hundreds of black bags stretched on the floor, closed. You still felt pain, although the healings now prevented blood from flowing freely through your forehead as before. The glass pieces had been removed from your arms, your face was clean now and even so, you never felt so dirty in your entire life.
Every time you dare to blink, you could swear that you would faint. Your hands were getting weaker, loosening around the bottle. The sudden sound of the bottle falling to the ground caught the attention of one of the men there – the captain. As far as you could realize, he called himself something Price.
“Miss.” He said, coming closer to you. Suddenly, there were eyes on you from every angle possible; all of the other soldiers turned to the ambulance where you were sitting now. You slowly raised your face to look back at Price, and he continued. “I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, this question is rhetorical. You need to be hydrated.” He was bowing down in front of you, taking the bottle he dropped and opening it, offering it to you. Your eyes checked at the bottle for a few seconds and your trembling hand finally grabbed it, drinking until the last drop you could - all at once. You could feel your throat burning, your skin seemed to be in living flesh. The appearance of your wounds was not as unpleasant as the feeling of having them, but you knew that all that would leave you some ugly scars.
You could not care about it now – in fact, couldn’t care about anything at all. Your mind was empty and you never felt so apathetic in such a distressful situation.
“What am I going to do now?” You asked, in a whisper, your eyes completely lost. “I—what am I going to do...?,” you repeated, and there was nothing but an absolute feeling of raw pain and loss in your voice right at that moment, for as much as you tried to hide it.
Price swelled his chest, and his lips compressed into a line. “You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ll take care of everything,” he assured. “The government has a great defense program for disasters like this, you won’t be without a roof,” he finished, trying to calm you down. You closed your eyes and shaken your head, but you did not respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; what could be done besides trusting that everything would go well? Trust that they would have a plan for you, a shelter, doctors, a chance of living after you were supposed to die in such a horrific way?
You didn’t even know if you wanted all that. Didn’t even knew if you wanted to be the only survivor. Surely not: at that time, you would rather have died among the other more than a hundred people who were now in black bags scattered on the floor in front of you. You felt so much - you felt gratitude for their work, for saving you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but to feel like a fraud for surviving while other died. Others that, somewhat, deserved more than you to live. There was so much in your mind now, but little that you could really synthesize and make sense of.
You drowned your face between your hands, unable to cry, but wanting so deeply to hide from them, from those men, from doctors, from the press, from everything. Wanting to be away from everything, wanting to be dead for once.
A little further away, Ghost observed you. His broad arms crossed, his posture relentlessly perfect as always. His eyes looked at your gestures, scanned your body —all those wounds, poor girl, he thought. Although he was sure there was no more of a heart in his chest, he felt comprehensive towards your emotions. The horrors you had lived in such a short space of time, the unbearable consequences that that meant for your poor mind. The trauma. The pain.
He could not help but think that he saw a bit of himself in you. Not a bit of Ghost – a little bit of Simon. A little bit of the little Simon who felt an immeasurable strain in his chest, a void that could not be filled.
When the doctors finally helped you to get up in the ambulance and sit on one of the available chairs, your face turned over your own shoulder and you found his eyes stuck to yours. It felt intimidating in some way; perhaps the way his confidence didn’t allow him to look away while you stared at him, or something in the way he seemed capable of reading right through you like a good book of his. He was a savior to you, and somehow it still seemed his persona was conflicting with the one of a savior. He was something else, perhaps still a benefactor, but somehow, a very dangerous man.
There was not a single feeling in his eyes, quite the opposite. There was pure coldness, and yours on the other hand carried some gratitude and ingratitude at the same time. You felt grateful that he had saved you, but at the same time, felt angry at him for not having let you die. You entered the ambulance, and your eyes continued to lock a gaze against his until the moment someone closed the car door from outside.
Ghost turned his eyes at last, and saw Price approaching.
“Fuck.” The captain whispered, laying his hands on his waist, looking at all the misfortune that the incident had caused to that place. “How many bodies?” He asked, looking at Simon with the corner of his eyes.
“A hundred and two so far.” Ghost answered quietly.
“And have you found the bodies of the sons of bitches who did this?” Price said with some disgust and hatred attached to his voice. Ghost assented positively, which made Price crack the dust almost instantly into a distressed expression.
“Motherfuckers.” He grunted, turning to the rest of the team. Soap, who had been remaining in silence for thorough all the search, dared to finally speak.
“We have a lot to report, hm?” He raised his eyebrows, and received a Price assent in response.
“To the headquarters." The captain ordered, making his way to the helicopter that awaited for them, and they left.
#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#cod ghost
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Maybe I'm just missing something here, and sorry if this sounds harsh (and I promise this isn't directed at anyone in particular, like, I still respect the differences of opinion here), but... why are we all working from the assumption that Halsin SHOULD care if Minthara dies?
Even if we roll with her actions to him being 100% the result of the Absolute, even if we suppose she NEVER would do it otherwise (pressing X to doubt), and even if we roll with the idea that Halsin has no reason to be scared of her, and even if we roll with the idea that Halsin's words here are motivated by hatred of Minthara and a desire for revenge and NOT fear for his life if Minthara stays in such close proximity to him?
Even then, SO WHAT?
Mind-controlled or not, she still helped torture Halsin and planned to massacre his home. Like- why should Halsin have to show HER kindness but not the other way around? What's Minthara offering HIM, exactly? Do we see Minthara express any sympathy for his suffering? No, because that's literally Minthara's character. She is incapable. Well, then, do we see her do the next best thing and promise she won't hurt him? Not even that! A vague "I fight against the Absolute now, I have no quarrel with you." That doesn't sound very sincere, now does it?
Why should Halsin have to be the bigger person and extend an olive branch to someone who very clearly is not at all bothered that he was tortured because of her? Maybe she only did it because of the Absolute, but she clearly doesn't care that he suffered, and that his Grove almost suffered because of her.
Why is it always on the trauma survivor to be the bigger person than their abuser? When does the abuser have to face accountability?
Sure, it would be nice to see Halsin extend still more of his usually-boundless mercy, but in this case? He's giving her more than she deserves, because notice-
Halsin never actually demands she be thrown out. He gives a choice- a choice to keep Minthara, and he'll go where he feels safe. (NOT with her.) If he was really being cruel, he would demand the player kill her outright. Notice that he doesn't even express anger or hurt when the player chooses her over him- in fact, he goes out of his way to wish them the best, say he's praying for their safety, and/or thank them for helping Thaniel. He isn't acting out of desire to see Minthara harmed- he is acting out of fear for his life if he stays near the person who had him tortured.
Halsin showing no ill will when the player chooses to save his abuser over keeping him around is already proof that he's a good person who is showing her more grace than she deserves.
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Stephanie Brown ACTUALLY having the character arc that fanon pretends Jason Todd had (plus a defence of canon Jason)
What I'm really saying is that Stephanie Brown is underappreciated, Jason Todd is often misinterpreted, and, though it should go without saying, ignoring canon is poor media literacy. So let's actually analyse canon and get to the bottom of what the stories are trying to say and how they use their characters to tell this, as opposed to just which character should we stan.
I'm arguing that Stephanie Brown's story actually features a redemption arc that sees her transform from a violent, almost murderous teenager into the most unwaveringly hopeful of heroes and that Jason's story is about a villain who we're meant to empathise with to expose the cracks in the Batman's heroic facade; a Frankenstein's monster if you will. Here's a numbered list:
Part 1: Outgrowing Violence, Anger and Murder
A big part of Stephanie Brown's growth in canon is her learning not to kill or use excessive force. But it's not as simple as just killing is wrong, don't question it.
Let's begin with the narrative's relationship to violence, anger and murder. Why doesn't Batman kill? Because "[those] who [fight] with monsters might take care lest [they] thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you". If he kills, he's playing god, choosing who gets to live and die. No one deserves that kind of absolute power and absolute power also corrupts. Batman doesn't want to lose sight of himself or his cause. Deliberate murder is treated VERY negatively in the Batman mythos.
Enter Stephanie Brown.
Stephanie was a working class latchkey kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. She had an abusive, criminal father, who was in and out of jail, and a mother struggling with addiction, who Steph became a carer for at just 15. Steph also became pregnant with the child of her horrible ex. At 16, she gave birth to that child and had to give her up for adoption. Steph is also a survivor.
The world was never kind to Steph and left this teenager with a hell of a lot of bitterness and rage which her vigilante career became an outlet for. You can tell by the way she fights since Steph fights DIRTY; she'll tug hair and spit in your eyes and strike below the belt and catch a kick to twist your ankle and dislodge your already broken nose. On the one hand; the narrative tells us Steph is resourceful. She's 5'5", 130 lb and has zero powers, but can always find an opening even when going up against Gotham's grizzliest. It's telling that quick thinking, savviness and spontaneity become her thing when she becomes Batgirl; Steph is the wild card. On the other hand, she was a real diamond in the rough and a complete loose canon. In her first arc, it's Batman who stops her from making the biggest mistake of her life; killing her dad. To deliberately kill; to play god, is to lose yourself, remember. Her first arc is about not being defined by who your parents are and about not giving up on yourself. Batman basically tells her, there's hope for you yet Stephanie Brown, by getting her to spare her dad. And she does. And so began her superhero career.
Nonetheless, it's never that simple. Steph is still a bitter, angry teenager, no matter how many jokes she cracks. It becomes a personal crusade when she, now Robin, discovers that The Penguin is using children as runners. It takes Cassandra Cain to stop her from inflicting anything she may regret.
The narrative wants to show us how cruel the world can be and that it isn't black and white, either. The story ends with an angry Stephanie lamenting "why". It's a "why" she is asking herself too. Why does she do what she does? And it informs us that she, and maybe us the reader too, still have a lot to learn. Murder's not the answer but what is?
Stephanie later saves Bruce by almost murdering serial killer Victor Zsasz. Bruce reprimands her and she cries, quite honestly, "I don't get it, I really don't", following on from where we left off in Batgirl. "There are always other options than to kill" asserts Bruce, forget not being on the same page, they're reading different books. The thesis of the story is what Bruce should have told Steph when she was an angry 15 year old about to murder her dad; "[those] who [fight] with monsters might take care lest [they] thereby become a monster". The world's cruel, Steph, but that doesn't mean you have to be too. "Are you firing me?" "No, I'm teaching you".
Over 2 years down the line, an around 19 year old Stephanie, establishing herself as the new, hoping-inspiring Batgirl, is now teaching a brash Damian Wayne what she's learned.
"To murder or not to murder" is just a plot device to the themes of overcoming your own anger at the world's cruelty to contribute good, coming to terms with shades of grey, not giving up on yourself and staying hopeful in the face of adversity and horror. These are Stephanie's arcs and as a consequence, she goes from would-be-murderer to Gotham's cheeriest caped crusader.
Part 2: Double Standards and Second Chances
Another huge part of Stephanie's story is her overcoming double standards and doubters, to earn her own second chances. Her resurrection and rise to the role of Batgirl were choices made to hammer home this theme; it's never too late to turn things around.
There's some juicy metatext to analyse here too. DC editorial's treatment of Stephanie during War Games was horrific and panned by both fans and writers. To reperate for these harms, Steph was retconned back to life and then made Batgirl during Batman: Reborn. Here's a quote by Batgirl (2009) author Bryan Q. Miller on what his run aimed to bring out of Steph:
The whole point of Stephanie's resurrection and take over of the Batgirl title was to give her a redemption arc.
In text, Stephanie was unfairly treated too, notwithstanding that she was brash and had a massive violent streak in her Spoiler and Robin days. Tim Drake constantly condescends her and tells her to give up vigilante life, even though she was ALWAYS a match for Tim according to Convergence: Batgirl. Cassandra Cain constantly underestimates Steph. Bruce Wayne tells his allies to cut off ties with Steph and then later fires her as Robin for DISOBEYING HIM as if that's not the first thing Dick Grayson ever did as Robin. Barbara Gordon tells Steph she has a death wish. Dick deems Steph too reckless (moments before he resurrects a zombie Batman). And Damian is an entitled brat who gives her a hard time for no reason. Everyone doubts Stephanie and it generally says more about the doubter than it does Stephanie.
Stephanie was never great with authority or criticism so she still went out there and earned her second chance. And it felt rewarding when her doubters came around too.
Stephanie was brought back from the dead to be redeemed and man did she take that chance!
Part 3: What is Jason Todd's Story Meant to Tell Us and My Defence of Canon Jason
Jason Todd returns from the dead as a ghost of Batman's past; he is the living embodiment of Batman's greatest mistake who couldn't stay buried and is back to haunt him. He's a character we are meant to empathise with but he's a villain nonetheless. He's not irredeemable but for the most part his story is not really about redemption. Succinctly, it revolves around the idea that "we are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell” to quote Oscar Wilde.
When we first meet the resurrected Jason, he's a cold-blooded murderer who's slinging guns and using The Joker's old moniker. These choices are made to emphasise that he went down the wrong path; he's breaking Batman's "don't play god" rule and his actions become eerily closer to those of the Clown Prince of Crime than Batman's. In fact Nightwing and Batman spend some quality time together in the next two issues because Nightwing is the foil to the Red Hood; he's what Bruce considers his greatest success. Remember that thing about "those who [fight] with monsters might take care lest [they] thereby become a monster"? Well Jason DID become a monster. And if he's the monster, then Bruce Wayne is Frankenstein.
We're not supposed to think "yes, kill the The Joker, Jason", we're supposed to think "good god, please Jason, it's not too late to turn your life around". Here's Dick and Jason being the exact opposite of each other, an issue apart.
So what was Jason's villainous return trying to say? For one, that people are the products of their circumstance, lest we forget Jason was once an eager and studious Robin who just wanted to be part of something greater when life, but specifically Bruce, sent him awry. This is also a story about Bruce which tells us says that our mistakes have consequences that don't stay buried, and that we will always be forced to reckon with our histories or it becomes everyone's problem. This next panel shows this best. All of Jason's killing and torture and fear-spreading and chaos does not come down to some "murder or not to murder" debate, it comes down to his relationship with Bruce. He is the monster that Frankenstein created who's back to haunt him and no one is safe.
Jason's initial Red Hood arcs were never supposed to pose the question "should Batman kill The Joker or not?". The answer is no and always has been. They are supposed to show us how Bruce's poor fatherhood of and partnership with Jason Todd led to all this horror. And Bruce can't turn back the clock, he has to reckon with the consequences of his actions in the present or more people will get hurt. It's significant that these first arcs don't end with Jason returning to the manor and seeking help surrounded by family.
We then see Jason and his issues with Bruce threaten the lives of others like when he beat Tim half to death twice, tried to blow up Mia Dearden and then tried to become a murderous, gun-touting Batman after Bruce's "death".
Once Dick Grayson becomes Batman, the narrative sheds a bit more light on how Bruce's Frankenstein created a monster in Jason; Bruce wanted Jason to be another Dick Grayson.
The red hair is a perfect metaphor. Jason is naturally red-haired and he is now balding because Bruce made him dye his hair black so he'd look like Dick as Robin. That sums it up for me. Bruce really created his own demon here and Dick, as the new Batman, is trying to make amends with the sins of the Batman's past. Jason's a great choice for a Dick Grayson villain because of their histories, considering Dick Grayson is the legacy Batman.
"I tried really hard to be what batman wanted me to be...which is you." Jason tells Dick.
That line is so painful and way more recognisable and relatable than anything fanon has produced.
"But this world...this dirty, twisted, cruel and ugly dungheap had...other plans for me."
Look no further, this is who Jason Todd is.
That's a powerful story if you ask me, and this is why I like Jason Todd as a character; a villain I pity deeply, who is portrayed as a product of their circumstances without diminishing their agency and who makes me see the cracks in the hero's facade because they are the monster our "hero" created. He's also a very nuanced foil to the ever-shining light that is Dick Grayson. The appeal to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein isn't that the monster murdered people. I also would never swap canon Jason out for, I dunno, Wayne Family Adventures Jason who's the amalgamation of 3 or 4 common fanon tropes. This is my two cents.
#stephanie brown that ball of anger and vengeance that we saw grow into one of the most well-rounded capable and cheerful bats around#stephanie brown#vengeance is purple#fanon vs canon#jason tood#robin#batgirl#the spoiler#red hood#batman and robin#dc comics#comics#metas#batman#batfam#wayne family adventures#bruce wayne#dick grayson
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Alright I did say I’d bring my infodumps and fantheying here to tumblr instead so lemme actually do this for once!!
Spoiler warning for Alrecchino’s animated short!
If you haven’t watched it yet, here’s the link!
Alright first things first! It looks like Clervie and Bulle Fruit girl were Alrecchino’s closest friends/sisters, which’s just so cute 🥺
From the visual storytelling and just how we saw Arle and Clervie together much more often than with Bulle Fruit girl, it also appears like Clervie was much much closer to Arlecchino, which’s so interesting!!
I love how Arlecchino is all about blacks, whites and occasional reds, she was always quiet and doing her own thing, and SHE HAD ACTUAL SHORT HAIR UNTIL RECENTLY ACTUALLY!!!! Gnc nation won!!!!
Anyway ahemmm LOL and Clervie was the opposite. A pink, outgoing girl, full of life and wonder for the world she lives in. Also, she was “girly” and wears dresses, while Arlecchino doesn’t seem fond of them (like me omggg)
Like, they’re literally opposites in everything, yet they were so close and so important to each other. Thinking about what comes next hurts my heart like nothing else just because of this.
Another thing I wanna bring up before we move on is: in this part, we learn that Arle’s deal with the black hand is indeed some kind of curse. And that’s probably why she was able to tell Furina’s also cursed, she had experience with one since birth after all
I LOVE THAT THEY HAD THEIR OWN PLUSHIES MADE IN THEIR IMAGE!!!! Arlecchino’s plushie is so cute!!! I wonder if she kept Clervie’s after all these years 🥺
In this part we also learn that their “mother” usually “argues” with her daughters, and for some reason Clervie has quite some injuries. From this, it’s not hard to assume she’s literally beating them up, which’s nasty.
A full grown woman beating up literal kids who cannot defend themselves? As a survivor of parental abuse, I felt this so hard, and I hate that hag so fucking much already.
This part I didn’t get at first, probably bc I didn’t pay attention to the beginning; when I watched it again, I caught it however. Their “mother” not only physically abused them but also made them battle each other to death.
Resulting in Arlecchino being the very one that killed Clervie, and potentially Bulle Fruit girl too.
Naturally, she was full of rage. I would be too, if I were in her shoes.
And that’s why I love her battle against “mother”. I didn’t take many screenshots because it’s a fast moving scene, but “mother”’s dialogue seems to hint that she’s the kind of mother that pretends to be caring and gentle but is actually cruel and ruthless in her actions. Which’s tbh the worst kind of mother probably.
Another detail that caught my eye was that Arlecchino was no match for her without her curse. But as soon as she released and embraced her curse, she not only defeated her “mother”, she blew up the entire building. Which’s epic as hell and I love that for her LOL
I find it interesting that Arlecchino was actually pretty close to becoming a criminal because of killing “mother”. Which’s so tragic when you think that she had already killed Fatui members before (Clervie and Bulle Fruit girl), but they weren’t ranked enough for it to be a big deal, like their deaths didn’t mean anything. But to Arlecchino they did… Aaaaanywayyyy.
For some reason I thought the Arlecchino title succession was much more automatic, like 1. Kill your parent 2. You’re now king. I think it’s because I’ve seen this in other shows before, but here she was taken to Snezhnaya to be judged by the Tsaritsa herself.
Luckily, the Tsaritsa not only pardoned her crimes but also promoted her to Arlecchino. Also I gotta say, her words… “My poor, mad, cursed Knave” hit me so hard. The Tsaritsa does seem to not be that cold and to empathize with her. Based of her tbh.
And at the end, we see a seemingly orphan child. At first I thought this was Freminet, but he has a more yellowish tone of eye color, so maybe this is a random kid?
Anyway, the thing that matters here is that Arlecchino says that she’ll be his strict and unfeeling “father”, which immediately stood out to me against her “mother”’s “kind and caring” approach.
Looks like she decided to be a “strict and unfeeling father” to not become like her own “mother”. This is so real of her tbh. I already knew the previous Knave was nasty, but with this animation it really hit home to me, as a survivor too.
I wanna pull her even more now LOL may all Arlecchino wanters become Arlecchino havers!!!!! I’m so excited!!!!
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When Thunder stays with Clear Sky for a while, does Clear ever insist on referring to him as Thunder Sky?
Towards the end yes, as the final detail to Thunder Storm that Clear Sky doesn't love him. He wants to ERASE him.
If Clear Sky recognizes he's made a mistake in casting Bright Storm away with their child, he's incapable of seeing it was wrong because it was cruel. He wants what he realizes he threw away, because he now sees it has value. He wants to own his oldest son the way he wants to own the entire forest-- as a reflection of his greatness.
Anything that makes Clear Sky uncomfortable about Thunder Storm has to be sanded down. The assertiveness was the first thing, he feels insecure when he's challenged, the child must learn to follow before he may learn to lead.
The second is that leg, presenting a prosthetic as a gift (that he isnt allowed to refuse), because he can't have been wrong about the choice that killed his younger brother-- here is a SOLUTION that simply didn't exist before! Behold how resourceful and wealthy his cats are, compared to your old group. We've fixed you.
(This prosthetic is a clunky piece of shit that is annoying to strap on every day, gets in the way and makes a ton of noise, and itches like hell, but the change in Clear's demeanor is immediate if Thunder doesn't wear it.)
But somehow, Thunder Storm was willing to take all of that. In hindsight, it bothers him that the tipping point wasn't the other two things.
Bright Storm gave her son her own last name. When Clear Sky sent them away and the Mountain Cats permanently split, it was pointed. "My only survivor is named for myself." SHE would raise him, alone.
Bright Storm herself slowly seemed to lose sight of the meaning, encouraging him to understand his father's good aspects, but in the meanwhile it took on a new meaning to Thunder. His mother raised him. He found a father in Shaded Flower. He grew up next to Lightning Cry and Acorn Swoop. Thunder Storm means this. It's the person he made himself, and the love they've all put into him.
Thunder SKY is just another monument to Clear Sky, stripping away the life he lived without him. And WHY? For ego? For comfort?
"What am I letting him DO to me?!"
It wasn't the final STRAW, but it was the tipping point. Once Thunder Storm had this realization, the minute he was not going to budge on something, that confrontation was inevitable. The blowout fight was making reservations.
Sunlit Frost is still the breaking point, the injury from his burn going sour, but I'm going to emphasize the way that Clear Sky only called that meeting in the first place as an abuse game. Thunder Storm knew it was coming-- but it still sickens him that it was something THIS monstrous.
#And then he had to rescue bumble just a day or two later#That event is shuffled. In canon it's often forgotten that Bumble's murder and the fantastic lie come before the Frost scene#In fact he's like visibly agitated because Turts didn't buy his shitty lie and gray didn't obey an egotistical order#Gray is completely capable of being wise when he realizes the patrol is going to kill him if he doesn't shut up#Guywho was TOTALLY going to get help because uhh it was a fox actually and i didnt beat some woman to death:#''Anyway spongeboy me son kill this man''#Bb!dotc#Better bones au#Tw ableism#Cw ableism#Ableism#Also if anyone went thru something similar with the prosthetics feel free to share annoying quirks#Due to the nature of them being four legged it's kind of backwards that it's a leg prosthetic that he's dissatisfied with#From what I read leg prosthetics are usually better built and have a higher satisfaction rate#But in a cat it would be very different because being a tripod is not as big of a deal#Especially the back leg#It really would do nothing but get in the way
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okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.
but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.
no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.
i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.
like.
torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.
just. i. what??
so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.
cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.
re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:
we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.
knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.
we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.
but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?
re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.
mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.
again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".
re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.
uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.
secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.
and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.
re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.
to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.
ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.
so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?
re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.
this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.
i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).
love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.
so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.
and terrifying.
my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.
guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.
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Why I believe Spade King will be redeemed
The Spade King is a... controversial character to say the least. From what I've seen, opinions of him range from a complete monster to an abusive douche with little leeway.
So, making a post about how this villain will be redeemed in future chapters may seem like a slap in the face. Let it be known that none of this is to upset real survivors of abuse, but instead it is to highlight the many indicators I feel show that Spade King is not beyond redemption.
I personally have had this theory since around when chapter 2 came out, and time has only solidified it, but this is the first time I actually got the confidence to post it.
That being said, let's get into the evidence.
THE FOUNTAIN
In the 6th anniversary stream for Undertale, Fangamer played through an edited version of Deltarune with Toby Fox making comments about development, the characters etc.
When facing the Spade King, Fangamer talked about how they hoped Spade King had been a good dad 'before the other mouth grew in'.
Toby Fox then says this;
'I mean, I think that fountain definitely changed his behaviour. For sure.'
This quote is stated around the 3 hour mark of the livestream video below.
So what does this mean? You may want to argue that Toby was not be literal when he made this statement, and that the fountain was a simple temptation instead of something that directly effected his behaviour. But then there's the queen...
The queen seems to have also experienced this fountain brought phenomena despite only wanting to use it to serve the Lightners instead of oppose.
She threatens and attempts to kill the Lightners. She establishes a regime significantly more strict then the last. She won't stop going on about the Knight. These are all things the King does as well.
It seems that the fountain abstracts the behaviour of their respective rulers for the sake of the Knight.
Okay, so the fountain impacts the King's behaviour, great. Doesn't change the fact that he threatened his son, and refuses to apologise or acknowledge his wrong doing now the fountain is closed.
Well, that leads me onto the next part...
HIS SON
Let's immediately establish one thing; the Chaos King does care for his son. While how genuine that care is is debated by the fandom, I would like to make the case that he was a good dad and does want Lancer to be happy.
First of all is the quote about the fountain that Toby made in the anniversary stream, which was a reply to a comment about how Fangamer hoped that he was a good dad.
Replying then seems to indicate that the fountain did impact his ability to be a good father.
More importantly is his dialogue in jail.
Here, he asked directly if his son is happy, in hesitant, even reserved manner. This is in direct contrast to how he mocks the Lightners with his boisterous grin or cruel frown.
Remember when he was yelling that he'll 'KILL ALL OF YOU' while his subjects dragged him away? An insurrection led by his son, who he called a traitor? Despite this, he seems to hold no ill will towards his son or his fellow darkners (we'll get to that). This behaviour I believe was caused by the fountain, thus the attitude change.
And yes, I do acknowledge that he has lied for sympathy before (his act before Ralsei healed him in chapter 1), but this is different. There is no reason to lie at this point; there's no way they would believe him.
He also admits that if he HAD let his son go, Lancer would have just... bounced. He then calls his son a bouncy little pumpkin. This line is notably similar to a line right after Susie casts pacify on him, calling her a 'sweet little pumpkin', again hinting that he was a good dad before the fountain and his love towards Lancer isn't a lie.
'But' you may argue, 'Lancer was afraid! He knew his son was scared of him but kept threatening anyways!'
Which is a valid point, and is obviously horrible.
BUT combined with the fountain being an impact for his decisions, I think it is also a valid idea that there's more to it than 'The Spade King is abusive'.
Both the Queen and King are callous when it comes to the opinion and wellbeing of others. Queen spends the entirety of Chapter 2 attempting to force Noelle to do as she says, even threatening to kill her classmates (and crush) for the sake of her goal.
What King does is similar, making Lancer watch as his friends get killed because he didn't do as he said. It's cruel, yes, but this is another case where you can argue the fountain may have led to this mutual behaviour.
(You may argue that the Queen has the excuse of being a computer who isn't completely in tune with peoples emotions. This argument doesn't really make sense because she actively uses Noelle's emotions against her in a way that shows she understands how upset it makes her.)
I do believe that Spade King knew his son was upset and still went along with it. This post isn't some elongated argument for Spade King's sainthood.
But I do have to say, him being aware and still going along with it may explain why he's hesitant to talk about Lancer in his jail cell. He knows he messed up and is feeling guilty post-fountain, he's just too prideful to up and say it to the face of the enemy. What he did is not a show of Spade King's abusive inhernet nature but an example of the fountain clouding his full judgement at that moment.
Also, you may argue that Spade King was neglectful of his son, leaving him to Rouxls Kaard to be cared for. I do believe that there has been a bit of exaggeration on this point. Yes, he does put his son in the care of his employees perhaps more than he should, but he's also straight up a King. He's a busy guy.
'Oh, but he doesn't feed him, the poor boy is starving!'
Honestly, my big question is why he's cooking in the first place. He's a King, he has subjects literally fanning his son and he can't afford one chef? It seems like this is more a downtime thing he does with his son for the sake of family bonding (may explain where the food based nickname of 'sweet little pumpkin' came from) and he knows his son will be fed by his employees when he's busy.
Again, too dependent, but I don't see any signs of such an intense neglect to call him a bad dad.
Of course, this is more in the assumption category. It is possible the neglect is more active and that the King is just a douche, but I feel that we are being purposely mislead here.
Now, onto the final point.
HIS SUBJECTS
Let's talk about why Spade King did what he did.
Spade King hates Lightners, that much is obvious. He calls them scum, says that 'their existence goes against our own' and feels absolutely no guilt towards trying to kill them post-fountain.
Which isn't really not justified. Darkners were made to keep Lightners happy, only to be abandoned by them. The Chaos King has to watch as the kingdom, HIS kingdom, rotted without meaning. He had to raise his son with the understanding that he would never be 'truely happy' because the so called only source of happiness for Darkners left them to the wayside.
So, when the Knight came, is it really that surprising he would try to create a 'new purpose' as he said? Yes, perhaps world domination is a bit insane (maybe he's dramatic like that, maybe it was the fountain, he does hate Lightners so it's likely both) but the core of his ideals, that darkners can be something beyond what they are to Lightners is not only justified but correct.
In the scene where the gang are walking to the castle in Chapter 1, Lancer acknowledges how happy he is to be here, feeling like he's doing 'something important'. Ralsei replies that this is because he is serving the Lightners and that is the purpose of the Darkners.
Susie is notably uncomfortable, and dismisses Ralsei's point as 'weird purpose' talk and simply says that Lancer is just happy because he ate a weird berry. This is the first sign that the plot beat of Darkners only gaining happiness from Lightners is not just going to be an accepted status quo by the main cast and that there is likely to be more contention about the subject in the future.
(I would also like to mention that Ralsei in this scene asks if the Spade King is happy, in which Lancer very hesitantly says he's not sure.)
Then, in chapter 2, Ralsei is shown to be confused about friendship. He starts to understand that friendship is more than just being nice all the time and that he should be more 'Ralsei-like', meaning more like himself.
The problem is that he doesn't know what that is. He's spent all this time forming himself into the perfect companion but he doesn't know how to be himself. This is a result of his purpose, his wish to be the perfect Darkner for his friends. Now, his purpose seems more cloudy. Should he continue being the perfect little angel for his friends or should he become someone who is more genuine on their own terms, like what his friends seem to want?
While Ralsei is still doing everything he can for the Lighteners, he is slowly becoming his own individual, which is what the King wanted for all Darkners.
Then there's the general themes of control. Be it Kris, the secret bosses or the Spade King, all of these people wish to be more than the binds that control them. While the Spade King is acting on behalf of the Knight, he does so to free his people from the influence of the Lightners, to make purpose on their own terms and be their own people.
Just like how Kris wishes to be free from, you, the player, also making their own purpose and be their own person. May I remind you that the Darkners are media and toys, fun things meant to be enjoyed. They are in universe equivalents of video game characters, made to entertain Lightners, just like Kris, Ralsei and Susie are made to entertain us. The only difference is that the latter is closer to the forth wall.
So yes, while his world domination thing was wack, I believe the Spade King is righteous in his core values.
So why doesn't any other character seem to agree?
Ralsei completely believes that Darkners can only gain happiness from Lightners, Queen does everything she does for the sake of Lightners, hell, the town that the Darkners live in isn't named after the Prince or anything but you, a Lightner. They even call you boss!
At this point, the only character who cares for Darkners having a purpose outside of Lightners is locked in a jail cell.
Now, it is possible that Toby Fox introduces another character who has Spade King's beliefs but is less nasty about it, but that's lame. It's also possible that Ralsei has an epiphany and realise that Darkners deserve better and that becomes the result of his arc. Better, and I can see him going in that direction, but I still think it's less satisfactory.
In any route in which you don't get all recruits, the King is the only person who acknowledges this and is actively upset about it. Even the Queen is hesitant yet still ultimately okay with leaving her subjects behind because the Lightners are onboard.
The goofy cutscene where he asks for cashews? Gone. He simply remarks on how you left them behind like Lightners left the Card Kingdom darkners behind and tells you to 'Begone'. The first line is said with a smile, knowing that he's been proven right but after that, the smile leaves and he's just... cold. He seems genuinely upset about what happened to the Darkners you left behind, portrayed with a '...' in his second line and the loss of his smile. He is not trying to trick you, you simply disgust him at this point. He cares for Darkners in a way that no character has shown yet (aside from Nubert (the goat))
This is why the title of this post is why Spade King is GOING to be redeemed and not me saying he SHOULD be. The difference in levity between an interaction with the Spade King post full recruits and not full recruits indicates that by getting recruits, the King is more willing to acknowledge you and, perhaps with time, your points and intentions. If Spade King was supposed to be this abusive bastard, having characters such as the Queen be on positive terms with him seems strange. You can argue nuance all you want, but the Queen, a character who we're supposed to like, being friends with a character we're supposed to end up hating seems like a strange writing decision no matter how you slice it. Especially if he's a straight up child abuser.
(yes I know she might not know but are you really expecting an epic drama where Queen finds out he's an abusive scumbag and calls him out? Having a morally positive character be friends with an abuser can work but in this situation, it is objectively a weird choice and I will argue on that)
He asks for cashews in this chapter and suckles out a giant hamster water container. Maybe the second serves to make him look pathetic, but then the Queen apparently has the same thing but bigger. The cashew bit is played off as endearing more then anything.
This is all because you got those recruits. Without them, he doesn't even talk to you. Therefore, it can be concluded that Spade King does have a chance. After all, if all of him was completely against you and believed you would be bound to abandon them, he would not be talking to you in any route. It's only when you prove it directly that he stops.
Toby Fox uses the recruit dialogue to endear you to him, which I presume is to set up a redemption if you continue to go down the recruit everyone path. By proving him wrong in future chapters, I presume he will talk more about himself and his ideals and perhaps listen to the Fun Gang and his son in turn.
CONCLUSION
My prediction is that over the course of the chapters, players will see more and more endearing aspects of the Chaos King, with things such as his theoretical neglect and love for Lancer being properly clarified and elaborated on, but only if you keep all recruits. He will still be sceptical, perhaps even leading to him going against you when the Knight returns, but he will ultimately fight by your side if you have successfully convinced him through your treatment of the Darkners that Lightners aren't bad after all.
Hopefully by the ending point, Ralsei would have had enough of an extential crisis to hear the Spade King out on his whole 'Darkners deserve to be happy without the Lightners' deal. Susie would absolutely be on board with her friends finding happiness without needing Lightners (I can see her arguing with Ralsei about it in a future chapter).
I can see him sacrificing himself, but I don't want Lancer to deal with that.
The final point I would like to mention is his place in the narrative. A lot of people have argued that all he is meant to be in an objective evil to prove that Ralsei was wrong about fighting never being the answer and that a redemption would ruin that, and yes, that is his role is chapter 1.
But if that was his only purpose, bringing him back as the only person to actively acknowledge the consequences of your lack of recruits seems pointless. Giving him moments of endearment and clarifying he loves his son is unnecessary. You, again, can argue it's for the sake of nuance but I think at this point I have clarified that there is a lot more to it than that.
Besides, what would be more satisfying to see than the most stubborn character of your journey, the only one you could not convince in the chapter he appeared in, joining your side as a result of you sparing every darkner you can?
In a game with only one ending, making routes like full mercy seem worth it is kind of important if you want players to bother caring about those mechanics. The few dialogue changes we do get really don't cut it.
But witnessing the development of a character who you started off hating but then becomes your ally due to your decisions and comes to help you in your darkest hour?
That would be worth it.
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Thanks for reading this theory! It's been a while since I've written a theory like that. Do say your opinions, I know this is a desisive topic but I am still happy to hear people's perspectives!
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Rape, Abuse, Trauma and the Need for Power
This topic has been sneaking around in my brain for days now. Because I find it quite interesting to see this depicted in now multiple franchises. And I really want to talk about it. Partly, because I see some people struggling to understand it. So, let me, an abuse victim, explain.
You see these three characters? Yeah, they actually have a lot in common. Let me explain.
Spoilers vor Castlevania, Stray Gods and Baldur's Gate, obviously.
All three of them were victims of abuse and (probably) also rape. It should be noted that with both Carmilla and Persephone it is never outright said that they were raped, but it is heavily implied. With Astarion, obviously, it is outright stated.
More than that, we do know about all three of them that they were also abused. Both Carmilla and Astarion by their respective sires. Persephone by Hades.
And they also have one other thing in common: Their character arc features them trying to get some sort of power. Let me go through with them.
Carmilla was abused by her sire. We do know very little about the details, only that he was very cruel. There is some heavy implication that the abuse involved rape. At some point she killed her sire. Her entire character story is about her trying to get power for herself. First by trying to get control over Dracula's Castle. Then she tries to build her own empire. With her mental health getting worse, she ends up fantasizing about world domination.
Persephone in Stray Gods was kidnapped, raped and abused by Hades. She had everything taken from her during this, until she finally could not take it any longer and killed Hades. But the other gods denied her to take control over the underworld. Her basic conflict stems from her wanting to regain control over the underworld again.
Astarion is of course the odd one out, given we learn a lot more about his abuse. But like the two women, he was abused, raped and tortured. Due to the DnD vampire rules, he had no way of actually fighting back against his sire, with him escaping just through what amounts to sheer luck. When he learns that his sire wanted to sacrifice him (and many others) to gain a lot of power, Astarion wants to finish the ritual for himself, gaining the power.
The outcome of course is different for all three.
Carmilla gets killed, once she goes down the "world domination" thing. While with Persephone and Astarion it depends on player choice. I would argue though, that the happy end for them both is them giving up the power. That is Persephone giving up the throne and Astarion not finishing the ritual.
What is the interesting thing about this... Or, well, interesting might be the wrong world. But it is well written. Because this is very, very realistic for their backstories.
See, both abuse and especially rape are a lot about power. The abuser/rapist takes full control over the victim's body and life. (Which is also why rape rarely has to do with sexual enjoyment, and more with the rapist wanting to assert power.) Or, from the perspective of the survivor: It is all about having the power taken away from them.
This is bad enough if it is something that is a one time occurance. But if the survivor is in the situation for a long time, they experience a prolonged period of powerlessness and fear. The survivor is constantly afraid, constantly in survival mode, constantly trying to just get through it.
In my life I have seen too many bad takes along the lines of: "Rape survivors should stop whining. How bad can one rape be?" And those people do once again not understand: Rape is not about the sex. It is about having control and power over your own body taken away from you. It is about you being turned into a thing to be used by someone else. Which does not even mention the feeling of fear most people experience during a rape, as they do not know what kind of other violence might follow.
And this is something that leads the survivors to even after escaping the abuse, the trauma often leaves them feeling powerless. They might objectively not have less power than they had before the abuse happened, but to the traumatized nervous system it feels like that. And the traumatized brain does not work logically or objectively. All it knows is: The survivor has not enough power to prevent this situation from occuring again. But here is the thing: No amount of power will make them feel like they have enough power, like they can meaningfully protect themselves from further abuse.
This is why Carmilla is escalating so much in season 4 of Castlevania. Because no matter how much control and power she gets, she does not feel like it is enough to protect herself.
This is also why I do feel like the happy end for both Persephone and Astarion is them giving up their symbol of power. Because the thing is, that them gaining the power will just push them along into a spiral of needing more power to keep themselves in a feeling of being safe. Which is why the good ending for them needs to involve them being convinced to basically trust people again. Because that is a path that given enough time can lead to healing. Them gaining the power won't. In terms of their trauma the power they might gain is just a bandaid on an infected wound.
I have seen a lot of people argue that you should let Astarion finish the ritual, because it "is what he wants". But the thing is... it isn't. All he wants is to feel safe. And he thinks if he gains that power, he can feel safe. But he can't. To feel safe he needs to heal.
#analysis#baldurs gate 3#castlevania#castlevania netflix#stray gods#astarion#bg3 astarion#castlevania carmilla#stray gods persephone#trauma#cw rape#cw sa#cw abuse
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riko :: what if
“Finally a stranger steps forward to introduce himself and his team of psychiatrists. The university has brought in counselors, he says. The university has called their parents. The university is closing the Nest.”
What if instead of being killed, what if Riko was alive when Tetsuji stepped down? What if he was there with the other ravens, watching Jasmine break a tv and dragged away? What if he lived?
Would it have been better? Would he have survived? Could he?
the university is closing the nest.
ichirou doesn’t want him. neither does tetsuji.
the university is closing the nest.
intensive therapy is required for him, but it’s hard, because he’s in his twenties now, they don’t say it but he knows the therapists and social workers he meets with don’t have high hopes for him to make a full recovery. too old they say, he was in there too long, it’s a miracle he is still alive
theuniversityisclosingthenest.
exy is all he knows and it’s stripped away; no one wants the raven captain on their team, not after the news articles. not after the interviews. he’s a risk, they say, a liability, he’s clearly unstable, they can’t keep someone like him in line, after all, those from the nest are damaged goods, he is not worth the effort
theuniversityisclosingthenest.
he was not abused; everything that happened to him was for a reason, he argues, he is better because of it, he would not be perfect court would not be captain would not be himself if he wasn’t; he gets violent, lashing out, getting cruel when the therapist asks him if he thinks it was worth it
what does she mean? being the best will always be worth it, there is nothing for him if it’s not number one
when she asks if being so afraid was worth being the best, he has no response
the university is closing the nest.
his body has been absorbing trauma since he was born; he had exy to help expel it, it kept him from crumbling to pieces, it was easy to believe that what was done to him was because he was a Son of Exy, that the pain and suffering was birthright because he would win Olympic gold and all the trauma is justified if it makes you better, stronger, makes you able to take a hit and by god he knew how to take a hit and he learned how to make his own count and he made sure his ravens knew it too because if his bite could not drown out his bark he would not survive
even after kevin abandoned him, when tetusji made sure that he was more blood and bruises than skin, he picked up his pieces and came back a thunderstorm of his own making because exy was a birthright no one could take from him, he would survive without kevin, he had to
the university is closing the nest
he is a villain but not entirely of his own creation, he was molded into hatred and fed pain instead of love; he is at fault for everything he’s done but what was done to him was not his fault, it is a hard pill to swallow; the pain he considered birthright was a lie, and not for the first time, the 1 on his cheek itches to be sliced off; once he understands what his therapist is saying, a woman who specializes in cult survivors, he chokes
he could’ve been different. it could’ve been different. he had dished out to others what he was trying to outrun. biting the hand that touched him was out of the question, so he turned rabid on those around him, becoming the very thing he himself was afraid of.
you are not tetsuji the therapist says
aren’t I? is his reply
the university is closing the Nest.
failed ravens have a tendency to commit suicide
#aftg#all for the game#edgar allan ravens#riko moriyama#tetsuji moriyama#I wrote this in a blur#I’m so sorry if it doesn’t make sense#psycho analysis of aftg#Riko moriyama character study#cultpastorkevin
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i think ds9 fans should be legally obligated to read ASIT before they talk about garak. its so weird to me that so many fans characterize him by the words he literally says when thats like, the thing the show outright tells you not to do. people will write him as depraved or cruel or a mindless caricature of a patriot. people will also forget cardassia is literally structured like a cult. it follows extremely strict rules detailing everything about ones life, and breaking those rules results in severe punishment or even death. it worships a higher idea and everyone must set aside everything else for full submission to it. your means are always justified if its for the state. and there are cardassians who speak out and try to dismantle this! but due to the way cardassia is structured (with people not being allowed to choose their jobs) its not high ranking officials or agents its jobs cardassia doesnt value and thus doesnt keep a chokehold on. garak didnt choose to become a member of the order he was forced to. he isnt like dukat, hedonistic and delusiouned. hes a little kid beaten up bloody on a daily basis because he made a slight mistake. hes a little kid hiding the pet he named after his mom because if anybody finds it theyll kill it. hes a little kid who has to fight to prove himself as worthy because hes seen as worthless due to his heritage. hes a little kid standing in the hot dessert sun for hours until he literally starts hallucinating to show to his peers that he is good enough. when hes pretty much forced into therapy he doesnt understand that what happened to him is wrong despite literally having panic attacks due to traumatic memories from his childhood (post traumatic stress disorder yk). he had to abuse substances to stand living because it was unimaginable to him to ask for very acessible accomodations. his love for cardassia isnt the shallow bullshit our conservatives peddle. his father (tain never was one) was a pagan following the belief of indigenous cardassians. he had the chance to live a life of comfort but he gave it all up to choke on dust and smoke and drag bodies out of rubble with no food or water or shelter. he chose to help his people and his land even though it meant giving up everything. he isn't hedonistic or cruel hes a cult survivor healing and redefining his entire worldview. julian isnt a silly little guy with a spy fetish he sees garak for who he is. dont do my favorite middle aged lizard like that
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thinking of how in ep2 beato berates shannon about how inherently sexual and twisted men and their idea of romance are, because in her mind the only thing men truly care about is having their way with women’s bodies and nothing else, which becomes so much more tragic when you realize that this is yasu’s internal conflict after realizing what happened to her mother and how the people who raised her were complicit in this abuse by hiding it, and the way this episode is yasu framing shannon as the ‘tragic romance heroine’ who’s led astray by the witch within her heart. tatariakashi.
satoko frames her human self as the ‘pitiful princess’ who’s rescued by the village from her abusive uncle and the witch self - the one who represents the parts of her that make her the unfitting survivor, the ‘bad’ victim - is the one who ruins all of this in much of the same way beato does for shannon.
also the part where shannon is using a shield to protect herself and george as beato insults her idea of romance, and shannon confesses her feelings for george and right before he gets the chance to say it back, beato slaughters them both. also tatariakashi. satoko being killed by her witch self right after confessing her feelings for rika.
girls who are bitter about love. girls who are deeply cynical about love. girls with so much spite towards idealized romance and the damsel in distress archetype.
satoko and the desperate desire to be with rika but being faced with the cruel reality that two young women can’t be together this way, bringing back all of her anxieties about marriage from her childhood, because marriage and the expectations of womanhood are things she finds terrifying as misogyny and the nuclear family are a huge part of the abuse she suffered growing up and she’s queer on top of this, so marriage is like a chain tightening around her neck as she gets older vs yasu who very much idealizes the idea of marriage and a prince on a white horse sweeping in to save her from her miserable life and the cage she feels like she’s been locked within, yet feels trapped within those expectations imposed on women all the same, because women who can’t give birth are seen as worthless so yasu can’t give george the family he wants due to her body which makes her feel like something is fundamentally wrong with her.
sorry but tatariakashi and turn of the golden witch are so peak.
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Never Let Me Go - Chapter 4
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader
Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Strangers-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Horror & Action
Series Summary: A lethal virus has killed 90% of the world’s population and turns 9.8% into zombie-like, cannibalistic mutants who are extremely vulnerable to the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. You and Eren Jaeger are both survivors crossing paths in the cruel world, but together, you’re able to find some beauty in it.
Chapter Summary: As the sun sets below the horizon, the dead roam the earth once again. With only a few knives and guns in your hands, both you and Eren have no choice but to fight back the Darkseekers. You promised each other that you’d survive this, but Eren has already bid you his final goodbye.
Content Warnings: zombies, graphic descriptions of death and murder, explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, abs riding, dry humping, unprotected sex, corruption kink, praise kink, etc), use of weapons (guns, knives), substance abuse (use of drugs and alcohol), traumatic past, anxiety attacks, depression, crude words, dark humor, sexual assault.
Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter
The moon is pale and the woods are bone-chillingly quiet.
The trees cast unnerving shadows on the road, swaying from side to side, dancing eerily from the night breeze. There are no screeching owls, no buzzing insects, no yelping frogs. Everything is silent, as if someone has muted the sounds of nature, or turned your ears deaf. The absolute stillness raises the tiny hairs on your nape, causing your inner voice to turn clamorous in your head, louder than a lion’s roar. It reminds you of the death reaper waiting on your doorstep, maybe with flesh between its teeth and dark blood dripping down its chin.
Ghosts whisper through the wind and Eren’s rapid heartbeat is the only gravity that keeps your thoughts together. You both cuddle close in the rear middle seats, lying down with your bodies facing each other, your temple almost brushing against his collarbones. You thought it would be better to hide in the backseat but Eren reminded you that the last thing you wanted to have was trapped inside a car with a zombie as it would leave you with barely any space to fight. At least this way, you can kick the door open and run if you need to.
Your machete sticks close to your spine while your fingers curl around one of the handguns Eren has lent you. He has placed the shotgun underneath the seat, where you can both easily retrieve it in case of emergency. It holds eight shells in the magazine tube, which is not much but it serves as a reassurance. Hopefully, you won’t need to use it.
None of you dares to speak, not even in sign language. The car windows are too wide but you’ve covered them with clothes and any fabric you can find so they won’t detect your movement from the other side. But the moonlight still seeps through the little holes, painting your skin white and making you feel even more vulnerable with every intake of breath. You don’t have the bravery to take a peek through the glass. All you can do right now is just stare at the same spot of Eren’s shirt, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.
In a desperate need to soothe yourself down, you close your eyes and rewind the moment you shared with him before you both climbed into the car.
“You sure you don’t want to take my magazine?” Eren asked as he offered his spare handgun to you. “I still have three left.”
“No, I’m better with knives anyway. You can make better use of them than me.” But when you held his gun in your hand, it added more comfort than you’d expected. “I really wish we don’t have to use this.”
“We’re not going to,” he consoled you with a smile. But no matter how sweet it was, it wasn’t enough to wash your anxiety away. The sunset was stunning, possibly the most beautiful one you’d ever seen. The sky was ablaze with its fire, streaks of orange painted across cerulean blue. Under different circumstances, watching the evening sun with your lover would’ve become one of your most cherished memories but you felt like you couldn’t breathe. A certain ominous feeling shrouded you like a thick fog, erasing whatever hope you had left. Your heart was thrumming in your ears, your stomach tied in knots.
What if… this is it? You gloomily mused. What if this is the part where we die?
“Hey,” Eren’s gentle call snapped you back. “Can you re-do my hair?”
You were stunned to hear such a mundane question during a moment like this. Searching his eyes, you wondered if he felt just as terrified as you were. But even if he was, on the outside, Eren was fearless—relaxed, even, unlike how he was when he first discovered the truck blocking your path. His boyish grin refreshed your memory of the time when you were about to enter the supermarket in search of food. You remembered how you had accidentally placed your lives on the line back then too, even almost losing him in the process. But you survived, didn’t you? Maybe you could survive this one too.
‘Maybe’ is such a terrifying word. No guarantee, no certainty, only false hope.
“Sure thing, Rapunzel.” You forced yourself to be at ease, even when the load in your chest only got ten times heavier. “Squat down.”
“Why don’t we do it like this?” Instead of lowering himself, Eren scooped you up in his arms, lifting your feet off the ground. A startled gasp escaped you before you tangled your legs around his waist in reflex, your hands circling his neck to maintain your balance. His grin broke wider on his face.
“You serious?” You asked, staring flatly at him. “Did Tom Cruise do this? Are you trying to re-enact his scene again?”
“Oh my God, shut up.” He covered his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes. “I was trying to be romantic.”
“Hmm, yes, I can tell from the way you have your hands plastered against my ass.”
“I’m just supporting your body so you won’t fall.”
“And you can’t do that without grabbing my ass?”
“It’s just easier this way, Princess.” Shamelessly, he gave you a little squeeze, making you yelp in surprise. “That was cute,” he giggled. “I didn’t know you could squeal like that. So very girly of you.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” But the smile you once feigned morphed into something real. For a moment, you could forget the situation you were in. No, not forget, pretend that everything was okay. Because what if this was your last time doing this with him? Touching his hair, feeling his warmth, exchanging laughter while being in his arms like you were meant to be together for eternity. What if everything was going to end in a matter of hours—minutes, even—and this was the only chance for you to be happy?
Taking a deep breath, you tried to savor every second left.
“Okay, hold still.” Unfastening his hair tie, you carded your fingers through his strands before you tied it up in his usual bun. You patted his shoulders once you were satisfied with your work. “There, all done.”
“Yaaay.” Eren brought you back to the ground, his hands resting a few seconds longer than necessary on your waist before he released you. “Thank you, milady.”
“You’re welcome.”
He had his hand stretched out, fingers stroking the side of your face before he, as predicted, tucked your hair behind your ear. Seeing you bite your lip to prevent your grin from breaking, he asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” you answered. “It’s just… You do that a lot.”
“Do what?”
It was adorable the way he was so oblivious about it. “This.” You gestured to his hand that still lingered on your strands.
You weren’t sure if it was the sunset that painted amber on his skin or if he was simply flustered at the realization. “I’m—I’m sorry.” He retracted his hand immediately, alternating to rubbing his nape to stop him from touching you again. “It’s just…” Landing his eyes anywhere else but yours, he watched his shadow on the ground stretching out underneath his feet. “I can see your face better that way and…” He paused, a few seconds longer than necessary.
“And?”
“You just look…” His gaze slowly drifted back to you. “So beautiful to me.”
The way he vocalized the words, the sincerity and the softness of it, made your stomach flip in delight but you kept your grin impish. “Do I look beautiful enough to make you want to kiss me?”
He noticeably gulped. “You want me to kiss you?”
You shrugged. “If you want to.”
“God, I want to.”
In the blink of an eye, his fingers held you firmly by the side of your jaw, lifting your face as he brought his head down. His mouth crashed against yours with enough force to make you stagger on your feet, stealing a gasp from between your lips. He was pushing you against the side of the van, your spine glued to the door, your chest to his. Circling your hands around his body, you raked your fingers down his back, nails scraping against the fabric of his red leather jacket as you separated your mouth to welcome him inside. Eren was an excellent kisser, not simply because of the way he moved his lips but the way he conveyed his feelings through it, pouring his passion, affection, and devotion all at once. You could feel his emotions every time he kissed you. When he was happy, when he felt lonely, when he was needy—you could always tell. But right now, you could feel none of those three.
There was only fear. Fear of the dark, fear of dying, and ultimately, his fear of losing you.
He ended the kiss just as sudden as he started it but he kept his face close enough for his breath to caress your cheek.
“Eren—”
He kissed you again, effectively swallowing your words even if it was as light as a feather. The sudden change of vigor in the way he touched you made your chest constrict. It was the kind of kiss that you imagined Romeo had planted on Juliet’s lips when he kissed her for the last time before he took his own life in the name of their love. You felt your heart shrivel, sadness bubbling in your chest.
This wasn’t a kiss. This was him bidding his final goodbye.
Eren gathered you in his arms when it was over, his lips brushing against your temple once before he placed his chin on top of your head. He turned pensive, letting the silence take the lead of the conversation for a moment before he rediscovered his voice. “We should go inside,” he murmured. “It’s time.”
“Just a few seconds more.” You tightened your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. With your eyes closed like this, it felt like you were at home—protected and safe, drowning in the bliss that only he could offer. “Hold me just a few seconds more, Ren…”
Eren shut his lids too, relishing in the strawberry scent of your hair. “I would hold you forever if I could…”
Your forever didn’t even last ten seconds. You broke away and he rewarded you with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
“So nervous I’m about to pass out, honestly,” you said, which he reciprocated with a small chuckle. “You?”
“Well, let’s say I’m glad I’m wearing my brown pants if you know what I mean.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
Humor vanished at once the second you both stepped inside the car. Eren locked the door, exhaling a deep breath before he faced you with his jaw set. “And now we wait.”
“And now we wait.”
Eren laid himself down on the seat, his legs bent on the knees before you joined him and cuddled close. Swatting the bangs out of your eyes, he whispered, “We’ll survive this.”
“I know.” And you both knew that you were lying to each other. Nothing was certain. It was strange how you felt much braver when you were on your own, as you only had to think about yourself. Only had to fear your own death. If everything fell apart, you just had to plant your own bullet in your head and case closed. But right now…
“Please don’t die,” you pleaded, landing your forehead on his chest. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.
As much as he wanted to promise you so, he couldn’t. “I promise you I will never let you go,” Eren said instead. “I’ll protect you with my life.”
“No.” You shook your head. “No, don’t say that. I want you to focus on saving yourself tonight.”
“But—”
“If I see you losing focus because of me and something happens to you—I will never be able to forgive myself.” You tilted your chin upward, meeting his gaze with your consuming one. “Do whatever it is necessary to survive. I know how to fight. I can protect myself. So if you want to promise me something, Eren, promise me that you’ll stay alive. Promise me that and I’ll promise you the same thing.”
You knew Eren could see the fear and uncertainty that were written in your eyes, but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t let him say otherwise.
“Okay,” he said, embracing you close but you stopped him before he could.
You raised your little finger in the air. “Promise me.”
His smile was frail but he hooked his finger around yours. “I promise.”
You’re not sure how many hours have passed since you both laid down in that position but it feels like years. Eren suggested you to sleep as he took the first watch, but you couldn’t catch a wink. You’re in the middle of running through your thoughts, going through multiple different scenarios to prepare yourself for the worst when your ears perk up at the slightest noise. The sound of leaves dancing in the wind. The creaking sounds of branches being stepped on. The footsteps on the ground.
Then the snarlings.
You lift your face at the same time Eren tucks his chin, locking his gaze with yours. They’re here. Stay alert. You nod in silence, all your muscles tautening at once as you feel the suspense choking you. The noises grow louder with each second passing by, driving you even more to the edge. You can feel your heart rising to your throat, the weight in your chest suffocating you. Eren shifts his hand from your waist to your ear, pressing his palm against it so he can muffle their eerie growls along with the sound of their feet being dragged across the concrete. You both keep your eyes on each other, communicating in silence and bated breath.
Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. We’ll be okay.
He speaks with his eyes and you chant the words like prayers in your head, hoping your inner voice would sound louder than their wails. Your fingers tighten around your weapon, and Eren does the same with the handgun resting in his right palm. He’s taken the bandage off his hand, wearing both of his leather fingerless gloves just like you, as he can’t afford to have his gun slipping off his grip. None of you lift a muscle. None of you should, because by the sound of it, there are more than three of them outside.
Their footsteps grow fainter, but you don’t let your heart rest easy. Not yet. Not until sunray can pierce through their decayed skin. How many minutes or hours are left till the break of dawn? You wonder anxiously. If they find out we’re here, we’ll—
A hand smashes against your window, hard enough that the sound rumbles through the night like a thunderclap. No matter how much you’ve prepared yourself for it, your body still jolts in reflex. Eren slaps one hand against your mouth, his eyes shaking in horror.
Be still.
You let out a shuddering breath through your nose, eyes closing shut when the same hand slams again, repeating the motion. One of the shirts that you used as a curtain slips off the handgrip, leaving one window exposed. The moonlight drenches your bodies, your presence exposed.
They can see us. The terror in your eyes says it all. Eren, they can see us! What are we going to do?
You see him swallow, his bottom lip quivering. You both try to breathe as little as possible. Maybe if we play dead, they won’t notice we’re here. Three seconds pass by in silence with invisible hands strangling your necks. You wish you could hear their footsteps marching away but what you hear is another thunderous bang.
And the window starts to crack.
The Darkseeker is now hammering its head against the glass, again and again, and again until your biggest fear transforms into reality. Lured by the noises, another Darkseeker appears on the other side of the car, slamming its entire body against the door, growling like a starving beast. The car is being rocked back and forth. They know.
You both sit upright at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. With the ruckus they’re making, they’re only going to attract more of them to your spot. “We need to kill them fast!” Eren shouts, snatching the clothes away from the windows. “Aim for their heads. We can’t afford to waste bullets or we’ll—”
You both freeze in an instant, petrified to your bones.
There are five of them. Then six. Then seven. Then you stop counting.
They’re slamming heads and blood-stained hands against the windows. Without needing words to communicate, you aim the gun to your right while Eren aims to his left. Drawing a sharp breath, you both pull the trigger at the same time.
Two bullets pierce through the windows, tempered glasses shattering into tiny, blunt pieces at once. Eren’s lead makes a nest on its head but he already shoots another one before its body hits the ground, targeting another Darkseeker that tries to break inside through the opening. He’s always better with his aim than you are, and it’s easier to land a clean shot when these corpses are plastered against the window. Three bullets are shot and three corpses lay cold on the ground, cloudy white eyes staring vacantly at the moon.
Though not as successful, you manage to shoot two right in the heads, wasting a couple more bullets than Eren did. But without the glass separating you, they can easily break through. A Darkseeker lunges toward you, its body leaning halfway inside the window before another one follows. The cracking sound of their bones can be heard as they try to fit through the frames, four hands stretching out, clawing against your chest. You shoot another bullet, the metal pierces through its brain, sending the first body to slide down the window. As if triggered, the other Darkseeker drives itself in with more force, its fingers clamp tightly around your wrist, making it impossible for you to point your gun. Opening the car handle with your free hand, you kick the door open with as much strength as you can muster, sending the corpse to fall on its back. You jump out of the car, aiming the gun at its head, and ending its life for good. You’re about to breathe in relief when a zombie jumps from the roof, tackling you down to the concrete.
Eren hears your surprised screech and his blood runs cold but he can’t afford to lose focus, not when a Darkseeker is close enough to spray saliva on his face. He takes a shot only to find that he’s run out of bullets. Cursing under his breath, Eren unlocks the door, pushing it open with brute force until the two of them topple to the ground. With hasty hands, he snatches a loaded magazine from his thigh harness, jamming it into the gun. But a Darkseeker grabs a hold of his leg, yanking him out of the car before he can take his aim.
You are separated, fighting your own battles, protecting your own lives. Eren is facing two Darkseekers at once, while you’re trapped underneath a zombie who’s twice your size. The corpse tries to bite your neck but you push your gun inside its mouth. You pull the trigger but there’s only a click that can be heard. The Darkseeker slaps the pistol out of your hand and you’re panicking. In this position, with your back pressed flat against the pavement, your machete is out of reach. You have a knife glued against the side of your thigh, but you need both of your hands to keep the zombie away.
You can hear gunshots from the other side of the car, and for a split second, you feel relieved, knowing that Eren is still alive and fighting. You try to roll your opponent over to its back, using the same method you used to knock Eren off of you during your first encounter. But the zombie is much stronger, much bigger, and you’re losing your strength. The hands you land on its chest to keep its teeth away from your skin are growing weaker by the second.
Eren, help!
You grind your jaw, teeth-gritting as you try to restrain yourself from saying it out loud. You don’t want him to lose focus, not when his life's on the line. But the Darkseeker’s weight is crushing your body, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. How much longer can you keep this up?
Eren feels like his heart is about to break through his rib cages. He’s taking too long, and you haven’t made a sound. Please, he begs in his head. Please be okay.
Another Darkseeker attacks from his blind spot, wrapping its arm around his neck from behind, getting ready to latch his teeth on his shoulder. Moving purely on instinct, Eren snatches another gun from his belt and shoves its barrel against the underside of its jaw. He pulls the trigger, the shot deafens him as his bullet makes a hole through its mouth before it punctures its brain.
Two more, he breathes out heavily, his ears ringing. Two more and I’ll be there to save you.
With two pistols in each hand, he aims them both toward the Darkseekers’ chests. Usually, he would remind himself not to spend more bullets than necessary but his desperation to save you dulls his ability to think straight. He can’t waste a second. He needs to know if you’re okay. Their movements are too fast and he knows better to aim at their chests instead of their heads as it would reduce the chances of him missing his shots. He pulls the triggers repeatedly, shooting two bullets at the same time, watching the way they drill holes in their bodies. He can’t kill them on his first try but he tries again and again until eventually, the bullets find home in their hearts and they collapse to the ground. Both handguns in his hands are now empty but he doesn’t stop to reload. He doesn’t have time. Eren doesn’t even let himself breathe.
Pivoting on his heels, he dashes toward your spot, his eyes largening in dread when he sees a Darkseeker’s face hovering just a couple of inches from your neck. With that much adrenaline rushing to his head, his brain stops functioning. All he knows is that in a matter of seconds, that zombie will have your flesh between its teeth and it will be over for you both. Instead of jamming another magazine, Eren tosses his guns away and charges forward. He tackles the Darkseeker by its waist, their bodies rolling on the ground, his skull slammed against the hard concrete.
You spin to your stomach, coughing and gasping loudly for air. Blood as dark as the night painted your faces and soaked your clothes but you don’t taste copper on your tongue. You’re safe.
But Eren is not. He’s pinned to the ground, his hands gripping tightly around the zombie’s wrists, trying to fend it off. His hold slips and the Darkseeker sinks its teeth into his shoulder. “Fuck!”
There’s no time for you to look for his gun. Dashing to his spot, you reach for your machete and you plunge it against its back, driving it straight to its heart. Within two seconds, the Darkseeker’s body falls limp above him and the night suddenly turns quiet again. That zombie was the last one of them.
“Eren!” You sink to your knees, using both hands to push its body away from him. With frantic hands and shaky eyes, you hurriedly check on him, forcing him to sit on the ground with your hands fisting his shirt. He hisses, groaning lowly as he places a hand to cover his shoulder.
Your fear coils in your stomach, so much, that you can feel the world shaking before it narrows down to one thing: Eren’s face turning as pasty as the moon. You weren’t even trembling this hard when you nearly had your life taken away.
“Let me—” You swallow thickly. “Let me take a look.”
Eren releases his grip from his shoulder, letting you push back his leather jacket to examine the injury. You hold your breath, screaming prayers inside your head. Please. God, please, don’t let there be bite marks on him. I beg you.
With his jacket falling loose on his shoulders, you drag the collar of his white shirt to the side. Its teeth were sharp enough to tear his jacket apart, but they didn’t impale his skin, only leaving angry red marks on his shoulder. It takes you a couple of seconds to let it sink in before you can finally breathe again.
“Oh, thank God,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cradling his head close. He’s not bitten. He’s not bitten. He’s okay. We’re okay. You can’t form a word no matter how ear-splitting your thoughts are. You just embrace him tightly with all the strength you can muster, teeth grinding as you prevent yourself from crying. Knowing that he’s safe—that he’s still here, warm and breathing in your arms—feels a million times more relieving than the fact that you’re still alive.
A bit baffled by how you act, Eren returns your hug and cards his fingers through your hair. “Princess..?”
“You’re okay,” you say, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re not bitten.” We can still be together.
He smiles timidly to himself. “Still hurts like hell, though.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” you try to laugh through your tears. Quickly erasing them away with the pad of your thumb, you pull away, grabbing him firmly by his upper arms. “Why didn’t you use your gun?”
“I was—I didn’t think there would be enough time for me to reload—”
“So you just threw yourself at it?!” You almost bark, startling him with the sudden change in your attitude. “Eren, that was such a reckless thing to do! You’re lucky you’re not bitten!”
“I panicked.” He reaches out a hand to stroke your cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
You can relate, of course. If the roles were reversed, you would’ve done the same thing but it doesn’t change the fact that he almost sacrificed his own life for your sake. “Thank you for saving my life,” you say. “But don’t you ever try to save me like that again, okay? If a situation like this happens again, I want you to run.”
“And live the rest of my life without you? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“At least you could live. You promised me that.”
“It only feels like living when I’m with you,” he says, fingers framing your face. “Princess—”
You stop him by gripping tightly around his wrist. “You’re saying you’d rather die?”
“What will you do then?” He challenges, peering deep into your eyes. “Will you abandon me if that’s the case?”
You tighten your jaw, releasing a harsh breath. Running away from the topic, you swat his hair away from his eyes, observing his features with your gaze turning tender. “How are you feeling?”
“Could’ve been better,” he replies, still a little bit out of breath, just like you. “My palm is bleeding again.” You notice a few trails of fresh blood running down his wrist, staining his jacket’s sleeve.
“Okay. I’ve got some bandages we can use. Right now, we just need…to…” Your words die on your tongue as you look past Eren’s shoulder. There, in the distance, perhaps a few hundred meters away from you, are Darkseekers. There are more than you’ve ever seen gathered in one place. Twenty, no—maybe thirty. And they’re running.
They’re running toward you.
Your adrenaline rush kicks back in, dilating your pupils, and heightening your senses. With your heart rate increasing rapidly, you yank Eren back to his feet. He’s paralyzed by the sight of the Darkseekers sprinting at such high speed he’s never seen humans do.
“Focus!” You snap at him. “Grab your guns and get into the car!”
“How are we going to—”
“Now!”
Eren complies with cold sweat breaking on his temples. But the second he takes a step forward, pain shoots through his entire body like a knife tearing his skin apart. His heart drops as he looks down, eyes glued to his right ankle. Is it broken? Or is it just a sprain? He can’t tell. The only thing he knows is that he won’t be able to run fast. And when you can’t run…
You’re just as good as dead.
Fuck. He tries to fight through the stinging ache, focusing on gathering his guns from the ground and returning to the car. You don’t notice the way he limps as you hasten to the other side of the vehicle. Throwing himself at the passenger's seat, Eren jams the magazines into his handguns, preparing for the worst. You sit behind the steering wheels, shoving your car key inside the hole and the engine blares through the night. You’re going to attract even more of them, but you don’t care. This is the only way you can think of to survive.
“What are you going to do?” Eren asks, fighting the chaos of his fear.
“I’m gonna run them over.” Your voice, unlike his, is surprisingly calm. “Put on your seatbelt.”
“What?!” But despite his protest, he does as he’s told. “There’s like thirty of them—we can’t just—”
“I’m not gonna sit here and die!”
You step on the gas, driving your foot all the way down. The sudden rise of velocity sends you both backward, bodies plastered against the seats, your heart racing just as fast. You’re getting closer to them, your headlights shining across their rotten flesh. With the distance provided, your speed manages to reach seventy miles per hour before— “Hold on!”
A moment of impact. In three. Two.
One.
It’s shockingly jarring and loud when you crash against them, your fingers tightening around your steering wheel so you wouldn’t lose control. Most of the Darkseekers are thrown back, tossed to the side of the road while some of them are hurled forward to the hood of your car. “Shoot them!” you shout, but Eren already has his guns ready in both hands.
One bullet pierces through the glass and the windshield shatters. Shots after shots are taken repetitively, each one goes straight to their heads. Bodies are being smashed under the tires and you don’t slow down. Eren pulls his trigger again but it ends with a click. “Fuck, I’m out of bullets!”
“The shotgun!” You remind him and he unlocks his seatbelt, reaching over to the middle seat to retrieve it.
A Darkseeker crawls over to your seat from the bonnet and you drive your spear point knife through its face. It’s enough to blind its vision but not deep enough to tear through its brain. Its hand latches around your wrist, almost causing you to swerve the vehicle abruptly. “Eren!”
It’s your luck that he’s returned to his seat just in time. Raising the gun in firing position, he takes a shot and its brain scatters apart. Now lifeless, the body rolls off the hood before it falls and meets the earth.
“Thank you,” you vocalize, your body still trembling in fright. “That was a close one.”
“Don’t mention it.”
You are now ahead of them. Those Darkseekers you ran over, they’re not dead, not until they have their heads smashed to pieces. Some of their limbs are crushed, bones fractured, necks bent in the wrong direction, but it does nothing to them as they no longer have the ability to feel pain. They rise back to their feet, chasing after you.
“We’re just gonna have to drive until the sun comes out,” you utter. “How many bullets do you have left?”
Pumping his shotgun, Eren heavily answers with, “Seven.”
“Fuck.” There are no Darkseekers ahead of you but there are more than fifty behind, chasing after your trail, sprinting out of the woods. “How much longer till sunrise?”
He checks on his phone. “Fifty-two minutes.”
Your eyes automatically drift down to check on the lines on the gas gauge. Eren, watching you from the side, notices the way you’re swallowing your breath. “How much fuel do we have left?”
“We have enough,” you say, though the shiver in your voice betrays you.
Eren returns his gaze to the road, his jaws clenched tight. He tries to think of ways, not to save his life but yours. “Okay, listen. If the car stops before then, I’ll go out and distract them—”
“We have enough fuel.”
“—in the meantime, you can run toward the woods and hide—”
“Eren—”
“—I won’t be able to fend them off for too long, but I can at least give you a few minutes to—”
“Eren!” Your scream is blood-curdling, silencing him at once. “We’re not going to die, you hear me?” You keep your eyes on the path before you, forced to reduce your speed to forty miles per hour as it would be risky to go faster than that on a serpentine road. “We’ve got enough fuel until sunrise. And even if we don’t, I won’t leave you.”
“Princess—”
“Damn it, you said you wouldn’t let me go!”
“What I meant was I wouldn’t abandon you!” He shouts back, sounding as desperate and as frustrated as you are. “And that’s what I’m doing now! I’m trying to save your life—”
“Well, I’m not leaving you!” It’s almost a sob that comes out of your mouth, startling you both. You don’t expect yourself to break down to tears, but you’ve only ever felt this scared one time in your life before, and that was on the day you decided to drive your knife through your sister’s heart. “I’m not going to leave anyone again!” Hot tears line down your cheeks, running over the dry blood that coats your skin. “I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you go. I’d rather die than—” You choke, your throat constricting. “I will never…” Losing strength, your voice wavers like something seen through water. “I’ll never let you go, Eren… Please don't do this to me, I beg you…”
Eren’s heart thrums painfully in his chest. Only now does he realize that you see him in the same way he sees you. You both value each other’s life more than your own. It’s better to die together than to live by yourself, shrouded in guilt, drowning in regrets. It’s just not an option you can choose.
“Okay…” he says, wetting his lips. “Okay, we’ll stick together.”
You harshly wipe the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand. “We’ll survive this.”
He nods, chanting the same prayer in his head. “We’ll survive this.”
***
The car’s engine starts to sputter, yet the sun remains still in its slumber.
A wave of panic crashes through you but you don’t let it be seen on your face. You’re not fooling anyone else, however, as Eren takes a deep breath and says, “We need to pull over.”
“No.” To your luck, the narrow, winding road has ended, leaving you with only a straight path to take where you can accelerate your car to the maximum speed.
“Don’t,” he reminds you as you step further on the gas. “If the engine dies—”
Hydraulic power to the brakes and steering die with it. “I know, but it’s not like I’m planning to stop anyway.”
Funny how you criticize him for being reckless when you’re doing exactly the same thing, probably ten times more dangerous. How laughable would it be if you survived the zombie apocalypse just to die in a car crash?
You take a glance through the rear-view mirror, trying to see if the corpses are still chasing after you. They’re far behind now, their presence invisible to your eyes. But it will only take less than twenty minutes for them to catch up, you assume. And what if other Darkseekers are lurking ahead of you? What are you going to do when the car stops?
You’ve only begun to think of a solution when you notice a loss in power. No, you beg internally. No. No. No. Please, the sun isn’t out yet.
Eren inspects your expression closely from the side, not saying a word as he can feel his own dread rising to his throat, but he has expected the worst outcome. Unlike you who’s been drenching yourself with hope, he’s given up a long time ago. Right now, he just wishes he could find a way to save you.
The engine dies and it takes a few minutes more before the car finally puts into a complete stop. With tremors in your hands, you unfasten your seatbelt. “We need to run,” you say through chattering teeth, leaning over to the middle seat to snatch your backpack. “If we’re lucky, we can find another car that works. If not, we can hide in the woods. We can climb a tree or something.” You’re not sure if it would work, but zombies are unable to use common sense as humans do as their brains no longer function. They have fast reflexes, strong instincts but you just need to outsmart them to survive. If you can get to a higher ground where they can’t reach, perhaps you can wait until the sun comes out. And you’ll be okay.
We will be okay.
You jump off your seat, placing back your machete to the back of your shirt before you hurriedly march to his side of the van. Eren steps down with his left foot, supporting himself with one hand on the door before he swings his other leg. As expected, he cannot bear his weight on his ankle. He tries to keep a straight face but you notice the pain that crosses his eyes.
“What?” you ask him, your eyes boring into his. “What happened?”
“I think I broke my ankle,” he utters, stiffening you with his answer.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough for me to be a burden to you.”
You clench your fists. “It’s okay. I won’t abandon you.”
He feebly smiles. “I know.” Which is why this feels ten times worse for me, he adds with regret.
Eren has given up on arguing about it with you. If this is your last moment together, he wouldn’t want to spend it by painting tears in your eyes. He wouldn’t want his name to be spoken through gritted teeth. So he lets you wrap an arm around his waist while he lands his right one across your shoulders. He leaves his bag but he carries his shotgun with him, slinging it securely on his left shoulder. With your lead, he takes a step forward and he stumbles, almost falling to one knee if you weren’t there to catch him. “Sorry,” he says, ashamed for being so powerless. He wanted to protect you and here he is, being nothing more than a liability.
Except you don’t think of him that way, and you never will. He’s your life savior, in more ways than one. He’s the glue that keeps your sanity intact, the gravity that keeps you standing on the ground. Here, being shrouded in his arms, is exactly where you want to be. “It’s alright. Just match your stride with mine,” you advise gently. “One step at a time, okay? No need to rush.”
No need to rush. If only he could find the strength to laugh. Eren nods and he does as he’s told, trying to sync his movements with yours. It’s awkward at first, but once you’ve managed to pass it, you start picking up your pace and maintain it when you both have found your rhythm.
The first sight of lightness comes into view. A small portion of the sun's rays illuminate the sky and the fainter stars begin to disappear. “Twilight,” you sigh in relief. “It won’t take long until sunrise. We can survive this.”
“Yeah.”
Eren’s palm still bleeds, dripping fresh blood all over the pavement. You wish you could stop for a moment and treat it with care, but you have to keep yourself moving. If you can survive for another twenty minutes, you will be safe. Anything else can come after that.
You’re counting the minutes that pass by in your head. Six, seven—twelve minutes have passed. “Just a little bit more,” you keep saying the words to keep yourself sane. Not sure why, but the panic that once has receded comes crashing back in like waves under a heavy storm, submerging you with it. “Just a little bit more, Ren.”
He keeps himself mute, cold sweat sliding down to his chin. Anything can happen in a matter of seconds, let alone minutes. He wishes he could feel safe, but he can’t. He’s terrified.
And when you stop dead on your tracks, your body frozen as if you were icebound to the ground, the fear in his chest doubled by tenfolds.
You can hear their rapid footsteps. They’re closing in.
And they’re closing in fast.
As your breathing turns labored, you take a look at your side. There are pine trees you can climb, but how can you get him up there? You’re not strong enough to pull him up, and he can barely stand on his own feet.
Fuck, what am I going to do?
Eren’s heart breaks at the sight of you biting hard on your lip to the point it almost bleeds as you switch from one scenario to another. “Princess—”
“Shut up,” you snap back, already figuring out what he’s going to say. “I’m not abandoning you.” You spin your head around, facing him. “But we have to run. Can you endure the pain for a moment?”
He gives you two firm nods and you both race as fast as you can. Eren feels like his ankle is about to snap like a twig, crushed underneath the pressure. It’s fucking painful, every step he takes feels like he’s walking on daggers. He groans in agony, and you hold him closer to your body. “I’m sorry, just a bit more.” Their growlings reach your ears, just as strident as your increasing heartbeat but you keep yourself focused.
“Princess!” Eren shouts, terror in his voice. “We can’t outrun them!”
He’s right. There is no other way. Stopping abruptly, you spin on your heels, snatching your machete from your belt. “Then, we’ll fight back,” you say, jaw clenching at the sight of Darkseekers sprinting towards you. They are not as many as they were before, probably ten or twelve, chasing after you at different speeds. But you only have seven bullets and a few knives. Eren can no longer fight and your legs are shaking underneath your weight due to exhaustion. There’s no way you can win this. This is it. This is the end.
You think your body will start trembling in fear, but it doesn’t.
You think that when the grim reaper stands before you, his scythe ready to swing right through your neck, you’ll start pleading for him to spare your life. But you don’t. You’re not afraid of him. You welcome him like an old friend.
Because you’re not alone anymore, are you? Eren is here. And maybe just like him, it’s not death that you’re terrified of. It’s loneliness. It’s the feeling of surviving just to exist, without any purpose, without any emotions. When you met him, everything changed. With him, you’ve found everything you wanted to make your life worth living.
It was a good life, these last five months you’ve shared with him. You were happy, weren’t you?
I was, you smile to yourself. I truly am happy.
So, there you are, standing with your hands steady. You take a step forward, bracing yourself as you shield him with your body. He’s shouting something at you, perhaps telling you to escape or stay behind him like always. His voice rings clamorously through the air, but to you, he sounds like he’s underwater, trying to mouth the words that you can’t hear. Your thoughts are louder, and they don’t speak a word of fear. They only speak of regret.
You wish you could say a word or two, maybe bid him goodbye, or tell him how grateful you are for his presence. For giving you so much joy, more than you deserve. For taking care of you. For loving you. But you’re running out of time.
Ah, you realize, as a Darkseeker, one that runs the fastest among others, lunges himself toward you. I haven’t told him I loved him yet.
Eren’s gunshot blares through the sky as you fall onto your back. The corpse hovers above you, its teeth dripping saliva but you slice its throat with your knife and kick its body away with your knee. Eren takes a few more shots, shooting each one right on the head as you prepare yourself for another. Two more zombies hurl themselves toward you, sending you both to the ground almost at the same time, his shotgun trapped between its teeth, your machete plunged deep into its chest but not quite hitting its heart.
They said during a near-death event, your life would flash before your eyes but now you see that it’s not true. You don’t see your entire past spooling out before you. You don’t see a replay of all the most significant moments in your life. You only see him.
Eren.
You see his smile and his adorable crooked teeth that peek behind his impish grin whenever he leaves you baffled with his witty retort. You see his eyes, emerald with flecks of strength—the kind of green that comes only as summer advances. You see his kindness, his adoration, and the love he holds for you, the fire of his passion that almost burned him whole—the same passion that consumed you just as much only a night ago.
And you wish you could turn back time and respond to his confession with honesty. Because the truth is, all those words he said to you—about how he missed you every second of the day, how he thought about you both in his wake and his dreams—you feel that too. When the words “There’s no life without you,” slipped out of his mouth, you heard them well and you felt it so much within your heart that you wondered if it was you who spoke the words.
Eren gives your life meaning. He gives you more happiness than you could take.
I should’ve told him, is the only thing you can think of when you feel your stamina decreasing fast. I should’ve told him that I’d been in love with him too.
God, I wish I could tell him now.
The zombie is clawing its nails against the front of your throat, your machete stuck between rotten flesh. Maybe it’s time to give up. You’ve fought long enough. Maybe you can use yourself as a distraction. You’re not sure how, but if you can at least give Eren a chance to escape, then it would be worth it. You just need to—
Time stands still. Suddenly, all you can hear is your ragged breathing.
The Darkseekers stop moving. They raise their heads, their white eyes staring straight at the horizon, their jaws hanging low on their faces, black saliva dribbling down their chins. They begin to wail then they run away abruptly, scattering into the woods, desperate to find shades to protect themselves from sunlight. It happens so fast that it leaves you both stunned.
What just happened?
You and Eren are left panting on the ground. The rising sun casts a rosy hue across the morning sky, its first rays lighting up your skin.
Sunrise.
You tilt your head to the side, catching Eren doing the same thing at the same time. Locking gazes, he mumbles out, “We’re alive…” He sounds like he’s in disbelief, his body is still in shock like he’s been trapped in a nightmare for so long and he’s woken up by a slap.
You’re not any better. Perhaps it’s because your heartbeat is slowing down significantly that you start to feel delirious. Or maybe it’s because your adrenaline rush is dissipating so fast from your veins, that it leaves you incapable of thinking straight. Because out of all the words you can say, you find your lips forming the three words you didn’t think you were allowed to state.
“I love you.”
Eren’s eyes widen at once, his breath leaving him as his lips part in a silent gasp. For the first three seconds, that’s all he can do. His eyes shake as they peer deep into yours, trying to unravel your every secret but he realizes he doesn’t have to. You’ve laid everything out in the open. For once, you let yourself be as transparent as the dew that kisses the leaves in the morning. You let him peer into your soul, let him understand that you're saying the words not simply because you almost died with regret for not saying them out loud. You say it because you feel it in your bones. You say it because you love him.
And once he understands that, his expression changes. “I love you.”
You both meet each other halfway, bodies lying on your sides, faces trapped between eager hands as you capture each other’s lips. “I love you.” Tears dampen your eyelashes as you whimper the words, your lips moving against his smile. “I love you.” You sound like a broken record to your ears, but it’s a lullaby that he’ll remember until his last dying breath.
I really love you, Eren.
He responds to each one with the same words followed by a whisper of your name, and you can feel it. This joy, this sense of completion as if you have finally achieved what you’ve been searching for your whole life. For the first time, you allow yourself to feel the happiness that he paints on your lips. You receive the affection that he carves into your heart, and you accept the love he gives you.
You accept the love that you deserve.
***
Eren has survived more near-death experiences than a person could have in a lifetime. Every time he did, he always questioned himself: Why do I have to try so hard to live? Why can’t I just let myself die? What’s the point of surviving when the whole world burns to ashes?
Will it have any meaning if I live through another day?
Today, he finally can answer his questions with yes, I’m glad that I’m alive. I’m glad that I can still bask under the sun, to have air in my lungs, to feel like I still have a soul inside me. To feel like I’m human.
And if he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. You make me feel human again.
You’ve brought him hope, his sense of purpose. Eren no longer lives to survive. He lives to spend every second of every hour he has left with you, creating memories, exchanging love and passion, and neverending bliss. He wants to embrace these feelings for the rest of his life—engulfed with joy, a sense of relief, and endless gratitude. He doesn’t feel like he just escaped death. He feels like he’s being reborn.
And God, it has never felt this good to be alive.
Eren looks to his side, blatantly staring at you with a goofy smile on his face. He’s dumbstruck—no, lovestruck at the sight of you. You’re the woman who stayed with him till the end, the woman who fought till her last breath, protecting him with no fear written in your eyes. You’re the woman that he loves, and the woman that loves him back. The woman that nurtures the flickering spark of hope inside his chest into a blazing flame. The woman that allows him to do the same to you.
“What?” You ask him with your cheeks burning bright, knowing that he’s watching you closely. You keep your eyes on the road with both hands on the steering wheels of your newly discovered SUV. It’s an old Chevrolet with dents all over the car but you consider yourself lucky enough to even be able to find one. It has enough fuel for you both to reach Aspen Pine before noon. You can find another car in the city if you need to.
“Nothing,” Eren replies, still smiling sheepishly to himself. “I’m just, uh… Hoping you’ll say it again.”
“Say what again?”
“You know…” He scratches his nose, the blush that blooms on his face matches the pinkish glow of sunrise bursting through the clouds. “The three words you said to me earlier.”
Your ears are buzzing from how much blood is pooling on your face. An hour has passed since you both confessed your feelings to each other and yet, it feels like a decade has gone by where it becomes awkward for you to restate the words. Funny how you have all the bravery to face flesh-eating monsters, but when it comes to showing affection, you’re curling yourself into a ball of shame.
“What three words?” You switch gears. “Any three words? Like, ‘Shut up, stupid?’ Or ‘You’re so annoying?’ Or maybe ‘Keep saying that and I’m gonna kick you out of my car?’”
He pouts—actually pouts like a child. “The last line isn’t even three words.”
“It is if you split them into four parts.”
“Ugh,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “Princess, you said it, like, ten times in a row an hour ago.”
Your cheeks are replaced by fire at this point. “Well, then you’ve heard enough to keep yourself satisfied for a lifetime.”
“I want to hear it!” You thought it would be impossible for a 193-cm tall brawny man to whine like a three-year-old, but there he is. “Can’t you just say it one more time?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause, it’s embarrassing.”
“Then I’ll say it first. You can just reply to me right after.” He said that but you can see him releasing a shaky breath from the corner of your eye, trying to mentally prepare himself. Although he has thought about them for months, the words still feel foreign in his head, let alone on his tongue. But Eren turns his body to face you, his gaze intense enough to burn holes. “I love you,” he says, sounding too formal and rigid to be romantic. It even feels a bit ridiculous, but you’re too nervous to laugh.
You tighten your jaw, your lips are pressed tight into a white line. You can’t. No matter how much you try, you can’t just say the line like that. It’s just so uncharacteristic of you to do so.
Eren waits with a palpitating heart. He feels like he just confessed to you all over again, not knowing whether you’d reject or accept his feelings. When three seconds pass by in silence, his blush smears right to his ears. “W-why are you not saying anything?!”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“But now I look like an idiot!”
“You are an idiot,” you retort, holding back the laughter that bubbles inside your chest.
His face matches the color of his red leather jacket. “Stop laughing!”
“I’m—” You clasp your lips tightly when you feel a giggle threatening to break free. “I’m not laughing.”
“Fine, you know what? I’m not gonna say it again until you say it first,” Eren says with a loud huff, throwing his face to the side and grousing like a child with his arms folded on his chest.
“Fine by me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. Glaring at the scenery outside his window, he grumbles under his breath. “Whatever. You’re an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot?” You blurt out, your tone full of mirth. “For what, for not saying I love you?”
You fall into his trap. Without knowing, you say the words he wants to hear, even if the rest of your sentence contradicts its meaning. “I love you too,” Eren says within a split second, beaming at you with a boyish grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I wasn’t—oh, shut up.” You spit back, tossing him a bar of Snickers to refill the calories he’d burned. You couldn’t carry much stuff in your backpack during your move, only a bottle of antibiotic ointment, some bandages to treat your wounds, a few bottles of water, some carbohydrate bars, and Eren’s favorite snack: Snickers. “Go get some sleep. Aspen Pine is still an hour away.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll stop by at a gas station to get us something better to eat, then we’ll find a house to stay in.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe by then,” you sigh, noticing that he’s still looking at you with the same dopey look on his face. “You can stop staring at me.”
Eren isn’t listening to you. He hasn’t been for a while. “Okay.”
“Ren.”
“Hmm?”
“Stop staring at me!”
“I’m not staring at you,” he tries to argue. “I’m trying to sleep by staring at you.”
“That’s it.” You snatch back his snickers bar with one hand—which he only took a bite from—and wolf everything down in one try. “There. Now, you can eat air for the rest of the day.”
“Wha—Princessssss!”
***
“I thought we were going to the lake?” Eren asks one and a half hours later as you drive past the final exit sign, indicating that you’re now at the border of Aspen Pine. But instead of taking the right turn as you’re supposed to, you’re taking left, changing lanes, and heading toward a new direction.
“There’s a small town nearby,” you answer, taking a gulp of water. Both you and Eren have finished your first bottles, leaving you only with one more each. You need to make a stop soon. “It’s only half an hour away from here. We need to find some weapons. Going through people’s houses will take too much time. I’m sure they have some guns and spare magazines we can steal at the police station.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s a good idea.”
Rather than being a good idea, it’s more likely to be the only option you can choose. Knowing that he can barely walk, it would be suicide for both of you to enter uncharted territories without a gun in his hands. You’re not sure you can protect him with your stomach growling and your muscles begging for some rest either.
No houses are in sight as you steer through an empty road, only woods surrounding you, with the sharp, sweet, refreshing scent of pine trees and conifers tickling your nostrils. Combined with Eren’s soft breathing as he falls asleep with his arms crossed and his skull resting against the headrest, you can finally have a moment of serenity to yourself.
That is until you can sense the smell of rotting flesh in the air.
“Eren,” you wake him up with a gentle call. “We’re here.”
The brunette male rubs his eyes away from sleep, squinting them to adjust to the morning light. His body tenses the second his nose picks up the smell. “Darkseekers?” He questions with a frown. “Can’t be. The sun is out.”
You don’t answer him. Slowing down the vehicle, you keep yourself alert to your surroundings, eyes scanning every part your vision can reach.
Welcome to Ash Ville, a road sign says. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay.
You prepare yourself, inhaling and exhaling. You’re about to march into a town you’ve never stepped a foot in, and as much as it is nice to travel to someplace new, you’re shrouded in nothing but dread. If there’s one thing you’re certain of, not every town stays the same as it was before the outbreak. And within a few minutes, you’re about to find out you're right.
Blockades surround the town, made from barbed wires with thorns and spikes, stained with blood and pieces of rotting, human flesh. “They must have taken their own measures to contain the outbreak the second they heard about what happened in other countries,” Eren says, with which you silently agree. “It was smart of them to think that fast.”
The people in this town had built security perimeters, blocking every entrance to get to the city hall except the main gate. One that you assume used to have local officers identifying each person entering the town. The stone walls are certainly strong enough to keep the Darkseekers away, but the black wrought iron fences, which you thought would’ve been impenetrable, are destroyed, pushed with hard enough forces that they tore open the doors.
You decrease your velocity to twenty miles per hour, trying to find a police station or a supermarket nearby as you drive past the gate. A few meters in, you notice something.
The people in this town didn’t die from the outbreak. The virus had never gotten to them.
They were massacred.
Shivers run down your body as you see corpses after corpses lying down on the street. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this. The virus used to be airborne. Once it was inhaled into your lungs, it would attack your body from the inside, and if you were weak, you’d explode, almost quite literally, within minutes after infection. Blood would seep through your pores and your body would decompose so fast, that it would only take less than 24 hours for your skeleton to show. The blood would turn black and it would stain the pavements as if the night had melted and drenched the earth.
But that is not what happened here. The ground that stands before your eyes right now is painted crimson.
“The Darkseekers must have managed to break through the gate.” Eren’s voice turns deep with regret, his striking viridescent eyes turn dark as they’re painted over by anguish. “To think that they managed to slaughter the whole town in one night…”
A string of questions pops up inside his mind and it shows vividly on his face. What if the Darkseekers never left? What if they’re still here, watching our movements, waiting until the sun goes down before they rip our throats apart?
“Stay within the light,” you assure him, even though your fingers are gripping tightly enough around your steering wheels, enough to turn your nails white. “As long as we stay within the light, we’ll be okay.”
You try to swerve the vehicle to avoid the corpses. You’re not sure how much time has passed ever since the incident, but by the stench of their decaying skin, bodies start liquifying, teeth and nails falling out, maybe it’s been a few weeks. You don’t linger too long to find out.
“Just focus on finding the police station.” You wonder if you sound cold, or seem apathetic to his eyes but Eren doesn’t say a word. The world is cruel but you both have known it since the day you and Eren drove your knives through your loved ones’ hearts. This is nothing new.
It’s a small town that’s brimming with brick storefront housings, chock full of quirky gift shops specializing in crystals and moonstone pendants. The colors are vibrant and warm, and if the world wasn’t ending, this would’ve been a lovely town for you to travel to. But not anymore.
You spot a police station down the road and Eren tightens his grip around his shotgun.
“How many bullets do you have left?”
“One,” he answers. One bullet may seem like it offers nothing but a small reassurance, but knowing how good he is with his shots, one bullet can save a life, whether it's yours or his. Little do you know that Eren only intends to use it to save yours.
“Then wait here,” you order him to stay put as you pull on the handbrake, parking your car recklessly without a care in the middle of the road. There are no bodies around, no corpses lying nearby, and no signs of life. “I’m gonna go inside and check.”
“I’m going with you,” Eren insists almost immediately, his hand ready to lurch forward and seize your wrist if he needs to. It’s to be expected of him, knowing how chivalrous he’s been from day one.
You don’t want to sound harsh by reminding him that with a broken ankle, he will only become a liability to you but he can be just as stubborn as you are, if not more, when he wants to. “Eren, you can’t walk.”
“I’m not letting you go inside alone.”
You turn your face to the side, watching him with weary eyes. You can see the determination on his face, how he’s not going to change his mind as long as you have your life on the line. Of course, it makes you happy to have someone who cares this much about you but still, it would be a terrible decision to bring him along. “Well, I’m not letting you step down from this car with a broken ankle.”
“Do you think I can just sit here and watch you risk your life for us?”
“Do you think I can just allow you to come with me when you can’t even run?”
He clenches his jaw, hating that he doesn’t have any better argument to fight you on it. “I know I’m no use to you right now, but…” It’s heartbroken to see him this way, to see how much he hates himself for being so powerless, for being such a burden, when all he wants to do is to protect you. “Princess, if something happens to you…” he speaks softly, his eyes losing the bravery and determination that filled them a moment ago. “And I’m not there to protect you as best as I can, I will never be able to forgive myself. I’d rather die trying to protect you than to live on my own.”
Although deep in your heart you feel the same way, you answer with a scoff, “That’s stupid.”
“That’s what I want,” he corrects, staggering you for a second from how solemn he looks. “I don’t want to live with regret. Not anymore.”
There’s a pregnant silence with thick tension stretching between you. Eventually, you release a defeated sigh, folding your arms above the steering wheel before you use them as a pillow to rest your forehead on. “Why do you never listen to me?” You ask, sounding much more exhausted than intended. “I’m trying to do what’s best to keep us alive.”
“We’re stronger in numbers,” Eren says, a sudden juvenile grin breaks on his lips, and you’re reminded of the words he said to you when you first met. “Besides, Princess, if we can survive last night, I’m sure we can survive this one too.”
“You’re weirdly optimistic.”
“You’re just too pessimistic.”
The little laughter that you try to suppress sounds more like a snort than anything else, but Eren can see a hint of amusement on your face. “Fine,” you say. “You’re coming with me. But if a Darkseeker shows up and you miss your shot, Jaeger, I swear to God, I’m gonna shave your head. Let’s see if you can still do your cursed Tom Cruise impressions with a bald head.”
Eren shrugs. “He was bald in Tropic Thunder.”
“Oh, shut up.” You land a small punch on his shoulder before you both trade demure smiles. “Well then, should we come up with a plan?”
The plan isn’t much of a plan to begin with, but it’s the best you got. Sticking your machete in the back of your shirt, you jump out of your car and move to his door.
Eren blushes when he sees you stretching out both hands to help him step down from the car. With one hand supporting himself against the railing, he swings out one leg. “I can do it myself,” he says, but right after he finished his sentence, he slips his footing, his body stumbling forward, crashing against yours. You both topple over to the ground, your back hitting the earth with a thud and a painful groan is snatched away from your mouth. Eren has his face buried in your chest before he props himself up with both palms on the concrete. “I’m—I’m sorry!”
“For falling on me like an idiot or for almost motorboating my tits like a pervert?”
His jaw is seconds away from dislocating from his face. “I– I’m not–”
“You’re both,” you answer it for him. There’s a painful throb at the back of your skull that makes your vision slightly unfocused.
“I’m sorry,” he winces. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I’m this close at kicking you in the balls right now, but I’m okay.”
Eren laughs as he’s reminded of the earlier days when you spent ninety percent of your time together throwing playful banter like this. His smile is so contagious that you find your own lips curving up. It falters once he lays a hand on your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. His palm, just like his ankle, has been treated with antiseptic and bandage. His blood has stopped gushing out from his wound.
“What?” You ask him, time seems to slow down as you focus your gaze solely on him. You watch his eyes drift down to your lips, his gaze lingering as if they are entranced by the sight. You know that look. “Don’t do it.”
Eren wets his lower lip, whether it’s a sign of nervousness or him just aching to have a taste, you’re not sure. “Why not?”
“Because it’s the most cliche thing ever.”
“To kiss you when we’re in this position? I think it’s understandable.”
It’s harder to stay unfazed under his coy, little coquettish smile, and his seductive whisper than to take a clear shot of your target, but fortunately for you, you manage. “There’s a correct time and place to do this, Er—”
He dives and brushes his lips tenderly against yours—a questioning kiss, brief and timid. Yet, you find yourself holding your breath when he releases you.
“It always feels right to me,” he says, smiling more with his eyes than his lips, a pair of beautiful crescents. “Anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain.”
“Seriously?” You stare flatly at him. “Trying to woo me over by quoting a line from a mainstream song? Really?”
He knits his eyebrows together, puzzled. “What song?”
“Oh my God,” you groan. “So you’re naturally this corny? I mean I know you are but I didn’t think you were this bad.”
“Is it really a bad thing, though?” He murmurs, lowering his head for another kiss, slightly longer, slightly deeper that you could feel how despite they still feel soft against yours, his lips are a bit chapped from the cold. The saccharine smile turns into a devilish smirk. “Seems like you like it just fine, Princess.”
You knee him right on his crotch, not hard enough to make him cry in agony, but enough to serve as a warning. He grunts with his elbows supporting him on the ground, while you return to your feet and fix your leather jacket. “Stop wasting time and let’s go.”
“You’re not cute at all,” he pouts. He allows you to circle one arm around his waist as he lands his around your shoulder. You both make your way to the station, stopping right before the door where the sun can douse you with its light.
“Ready?” You ask him, grabbing your machete with one hand.
Eren releases you, standing with his shotgun in firing position. He gives you a nod.
Taking a deep breath, you kick the front door open. The wood creaks underneath the pressure, and by your third attempt, it swings open and slams against the wall. You’ve made enough noise to attract whatever is lurking in the dark. All you have to do is wait.
It’s only three seconds in, and a Darkseeker, dressed in a police uniform with black strings of saliva coating its bared teeth, advances toward you. You can hear Eren releasing his breath slowly as he prepares to take his shot. He pulls the trigger, the sound rings like thunder in your ears. The bottom half of its face is blown away, its body pushed back a few steps. But then it stares back at you, its snarl turning into a raging cry before it runs toward you with both hands stretched out. Eren didn’t miss his shot, but he missed its brain.
“Fuck,” he curses, stepping in front of you in reflex. He knows the sun will burn its flesh the second it walks past the door but he still tries to shield you just in case.
“Move,” you tell him, pushing him away to the side with one hand while you snatch a spear point knife from the harness that tightly hugs your thigh with the other. You cast your blade forward, letting it pierce through the air before it lands right on the Darkseeker’s forehead, penetrating deeply enough to rupture its brain. The corpse tumbles back at once, body crashing against the wooden floor.
Eren stares in awe before he gulps. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
You don’t answer him, focusing on finishing your job first. Stepping into the room, you approach the spot where the Darkseeker is now oozing black blood to the ground. You go down to one knee, plunging your knife harder inside its brain before you drive it upward, splitting its head in the middle. You pull it away, wipe the blood on its tattered uniform, and place back the blade in its sheath.
Eren watches you from behind, completely enthralled. “Is it weird if I find you so hot right now?”
“Stop messing around and help me find some guns.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
***
Last night might be the worst night of your life but today? Today feels like God is trying to make it up to you.
You’ve managed to obtain yourself three shotguns, two handguns, and five extra magazines from the station. As the cartridges you found didn’t match the ones he owned, Eren tossed his old pistols away and decided to use the new ones instead. “These are lighter, I like them,” he commented with a satisfied grin, tucking his new handguns around his belt.
Your forage for food went well too. There was a minimart nearby that offered bottles of water and a selection of canned foods—which were still gross, in your opinion, but Eren was having a feast. You got your hands on a few bags of chips, a few cans of beer, and coffee–Eren was immensely pleased when he found Corona Extra on the counter that you swore you saw him rubbing his tears away with his hand. With your heart feeling ten times more at ease, you continued with your journey.
You’ve decided not to switch cars, only stopped at a gas station to refill the tank. You drive twelve miles west, heading toward the lake. It’s only one in the afternoon, so there will be plenty of time for you to find a new house and get familiar with your surroundings before the sun sets.
“I’m so excited,” Eren giddily says, munching on a Twinkie. It’s two weeks past its expiration date but he doesn’t care. “Feels like we’re going camping.”
You snort. “Want me to set up a bonfire for you? I’m sure they would love to have a little Jaeger barbecue party.”
“Your sense of humor is disturbing, Princess.”
An hour later, you’re driving down a familiar lane, going through the small neighborhood framed by steep hills and majestic lake views. Tucked into its cozy tree-lined streets are some of the prettiest homes you’ve ever seen—a conglomeration of architectural styles that, while unique, are unified in charm. As much as you are itching to visit the varnish-clear lake to revive your dearest memories, you focus more on finding a place to stay for the night. But then—
“Hey, why don’t we stop by the lake first?” Eren suggests as he rolls his window down, his head peeking out like an excited dog. His hair, tied up with a few baby hairs sprouting out of his bun, is caressed by the wind. “You want to see it, right?”
It’s as if he reads your mind. “I guess we can if it’s just for a few minutes.”
“Yeah, just for a few minutes.”
So you follow his request and fulfill your wish, keeping your engine running until you can witness the glorious luster of the water before you. It’s the same skyline-silver lake where you used to spend every summer making cherished memories and endless laughter with your family. It feels nostalgic, the way the atmosphere is convent quiet, soothing, and yogi still. It’s lined with pine trees and the sky’s magnificence seemed to be emblazoned on the lake, making it look like nothing but a painting. The whiff of mint and the cedar-sweet smell wafts up to you the second you stop and open your door to breathe the fresh air. Feels so good to be home, your lips almost form the words. The idyllic scene still takes your breath away just the same, and when you spin your head around to see him, Eren has his lips parted in awe, looking just as enraptured by the scenery, if not more.
“You want to go out?” you offer him. “Just for a few minutes.”
He mirrors your smile. “Just for a few minutes.”
Climbing out of the car, you help him support his balance by holding him around his waist like before. Eren has his arm resting on your shoulders, the visage of the lake is reflected in his eyes. Sunray adds a golden tint to the face of the lake, and Eren thinks this is what paradise looks like. Untouched by the cruelty of the world. It’s a place with the kind of beauty that is unmatched, except maybe…
His eyes shift to your face again, only to be answered instantly by a gentle smile on your face. “Do you like it?” You ask him.
Eren casts his gaze down when he feels you removing your hand from his waist, only to interlace your fingers together. You squeeze his hand lightly before your warmth seeps through his pores, and he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing. That this is a new beginning, for you and him. That this is finally the place that you both can call home.
“I love it,” he says, almost in a content sigh. He shifts his arm away from your shoulder, his hand doing the same habit of tucking your hair behind your ear. But maybe it’s not a habit. It’s just his favorite thing to do in the world.
And he wants to say something. Wants to describe that even all of this scenery—everything that took his breath away—they’re nothing compared to you. But you’ve called him corny so many times and Eren’s knowledge of romantic phrases is close to none. All he can offer you is his honesty.
“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out while your breathing stops. “I find endless joy when I’m with you, Princess. Loving you feels right as if it’s the reason why I’m here. I feel like I’ve loved you in my previous life, I love you in this one, and I’ll love you again in the next one.”
How can he say something like this? You wonder, turning bashful. So beautifully, so genuinely, so passionately. You could feel the attraction that pulses between you, a magnetic pull drawing you to him. For a moment, he renders you speechless.
“This is the right moment,” you tell him.
He blinks. “Huh?”
Ah, damn it. With your face aflame, you speak through gritted teeth. “For you to kiss me, you idiot.”
“Oh!” The realization only overtakes his features for a second before it quickly turns to regret. “Oh, no, I just ruined it, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I should’ve—”
You pull him down by the collar of his jacket, standing on your toes as you plant your lips against his. It’s a bit more forceful than intended, but it delivers the message well. You break away only to whisper, “Stop talking and just… kiss me harder.”
And he does, kissing you with all the passion he feels. The need. The hunger. But Eren keeps his control. He just wants your taste on his lips. At least, for now.
The kiss is different than what you shared with him a moment ago. There’s no elfin grin on his mouth, only parted lips and eager tongue—shy enough to penetrate deep into your cavern but bold enough to glide against your lower lip. There’s no giggle erupting from the back of his throat, only a deep moan and breathy sigh when he feels your fingers dancing across his nape. His right hand slithers around your waist, his other one cups you by your jaw, the leather of his fingerless glove rubs against your skin.
“Be with me.” He maps his way down to your jaw and the side of your neck to murmur the words before he returns home to your lips. “Stay with me.” It’s followed by your name, spoken like praise from a love poem. “Hold me like this and never let me go.”
I need you to promise me this, Princess. I don’t want this to be the last time I can kiss you. I don’t want tomorrow to be the last time I can see your smile. I’m scared. Deep down, I’m always terrified because…
What if death comes to take you but not me?
Eren had hopes before. He hoped for a better life, and he thought if he wished for it hard enough, he could have it. After all, things were really turning for the better, for both of you. But after what happened last night, he realized that his hopes were nothing more but a fantasy he could never achieve. Yes, you won the battle of your life, but how much longer until your luck runs out? It feels harder than ever now to keep on hoping.
Your legs feel weak, and you try to blame it on all the running you did trying to survive. You want to say it. You want to say it back. I love you. I’m so in love with you too. I’ve never felt like this before and it scares me because what am I going to do when you’re gone?
You land a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away just to get a few seconds to collect your courage. “I…” You lick your bottom lip as a way for your body to suppress your jitters. You taste like him. “Eren, I…”
Say it, you idiot! What is so hard about it?! Just tell him you love him!
Your heart is in your ears, and blood rushes to your face so fast that you know it’s going to change the color of your cheeks. “I, umm…”
Eren watches in silence, patiently waiting for the words to come out and it only makes it ten times harder for you to say it. Then his mouth twitches into a smile a second before a tiny peal of laughter escapes him. Flustered, you give him a little punch on his chest. “Why are you laughing?!”
“Because you’re so cute.” He gathers you in his arms, granting you a small kiss on your temple before he rests his chin on your head. “And you’re so transparent. I can literally see whatever thought crosses your mind.”
“Shut up.”
“You want to tell me you love me too, right?”
“Shut up.”
He chortles again and it's the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Eren kisses you one last time before you break away. He feels it. Even if you don’t say the words, he feels your devotion for him in every fiber of your soul. Elation leaps through him and for a moment, all you can think of is the feel of his body against yours, the passion and the ferocity of his kiss.
When it’s over, he leaves you a bit disoriented. “Let’s go find our home, shall we?” He suggests, intertwining your fingers together.
With you, I’m already home. A thought crosses your mind and your chest is suffused with warmth. It’s until you can feel the way Eren’s hold around your hand turns rigid, that you realize you just said the words out loud, your mouth forming the sentence before your brain could tell you to stop. It came out in a whisper like you were mumbling in your sleep, but Eren felt it to his bones.
“I—” You panic, ashamed. “I meant—I don’t—”
Eren pivots on his heels, staggering quite a bit as he takes you by the hand and leads you back to the car. He rubs his nose, visibly abashed, where the color of his tip matches the crimson in his cheeks. “I didn’t hear anything.”
But he’s always been a terrible liar, hasn’t he?
***
Perched on the edge of the lake, there’s a Craftsman-style shingle lake house that peeks out from the towering pine trees that surround it. Even from the outside, the home is striking, designed to merge with the natural world with wood exterior, as well as the landscaping with native plants, blending into the six acres of surrounding forest. It has unfettered lakefront access, with multiple decks made of wood just feet from the shoreline, one of which has a hot tub.
“I think we just hit a jackpot,” Eren mumbles in awe. “This is literally the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.”
You can’t argue with that. It looks like it’s taken straight from an architectural magazine. “Well then, let’s go check it out.”
Knowing how he’s going to be stubborn about not letting you go inside alone, you don’t bother to bicker with him this time. It is your luck that one side of the house is enclosed by a 30-foot-tall wall of windows rising above the lake. It aims to give you a gorgeous view of the waterfront, but you’re thankful for the sunlight that bathes almost every corner of the house.
You enter the residence side-by-side, slowing down your pace to match his steps. Both of you have your handguns ready, scouring your surroundings with alert eyes and taut muscles. Albeit looking a bit abandoned with thick piles of dust coating every piece of furniture and untended plants growing in disorder, the house seems cozy and warm. There’s even a wood fireplace in the living room, and while it’s easy to imagine spending summers here, Eren can’t wait to enjoy a cozy winter night snuggled up with you as you watch the snow fall on the frozen lake. It reminds him of the dream house he often fantasized of sharing with his future wife and two, maybe even three children, where he would—
“What?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow, interrupting his thoughts. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“N-nothing,” he blushes.
“Are you thinking dirty thoughts again? Really? Zombies can literally be hiding in one of the rooms right now, and you’re thinking about what, getting handsy with me in the hot tub?”
He nearly faints. “No, I was just—” He clears his throat, averting his gaze away. “I was just thinking about growing old here with my wife and kids. The house—it’s—it’s really, umm, nice.”
He’s an idiot. And you are the bigger idiot here because he didn’t even specifically state that he was thinking about you as his wife, and here you are, feeling like your head is about to explode from the thoughts of dancing with him in the kitchen as you make breakfasts together, or snuggling close on the couch with books in your hands and a guitar on his lap, and maybe when the kids are asleep, he’ll even trap your body against the window glass, his lips forming filthy words to describe how much he wants to make love to—I need to stop.
“Go check the kitchen,” you tell him in a desperate attempt to distract yourself. “Find if we have food for the rest of the week.”
“What about you? Where are you going?”
Away from you. “I’m just going down the hall.”
“Stay within the light.”
“Stay within the light,” you mock him back, your cheeks still sizzle hot as you make your way to another hallway. You feel safe as you can still feel sunlight kissing your skin everywhere you go but your fingers remain tight around your handgun.
Eren enters the kitchen as ordered, amazed by the sight of maple woodwork, a granite island, and a wine refrigerator that is stacked with top-class brands, ones that he could only dream of having. But that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? This is a dream and he’s living in it with his eyes wide open.
He’s in the middle of rummaging through the top drawers, mumbling a little, “Lucky,” when he locates a numerous amounts of expensive canned foods, and jars filled with cookies and candies.
The joy that sparkles inside him turns instantly into chaos when he hears your scream.
Eren spins on his heels so fast, he might have broken his other ankle but he doesn’t care. Mustering every strength in his body to run to your spot, he ignores the pain that burns his every nerve. “Princess!” He shouts out, his balance unsteady. “Princess, are you—”
“REINER!”
Your scream is loud enough to deafen his ears. “Uhh… It’s Eren, actually.”
“No, I mean, it’s Reiner Braun!” Never has your voice sounded so high-pitched before. Your eyes are so wide open, that he wonders how they are not falling out of their sockets yet.
Eren, still limping, walks closer to your spot with a frown. He looks over your shoulder, following the finger you’re pointing at one of the photo frames that decorate the wall. “Who’s Reiner Braun?” His gaze lands on a muscular man, probably in his early fifty, staring into the camera with a grin warm and kind enough to look unnatural on his bearded face. The man called Reiner is sitting on the couch with two teenagers hugging his sides—Eren assumes they’re his children as they bear striking resemblance to him. His wife, standing behind the couch, has her cheek pressed against the side of his head, smiling beautifully with her arms embracing her husband’s shoulders from behind. The amount of love and happiness they showcase through the picture is enough to warm your hearts, and Eren wonders if someday, he can take a picture with you like this too.
“The guy from Empire!” Your shout slaps him back to reality—a reality where you are now fangirling over another man. “Eren, this is his house! We’re staying in Reiner’s house right now, oh my God—I can’t believe this—”
“All right, chill.” But he can’t help but laugh at the way you’re practically jumping on your feet, drowning in your excitement. “What’s Empire? A boy band? That dude looks too buff to be wearing skimpy clothes on stage.”
You restrain the urge to slap the photo frame against his face, only because you care too much about the picture. “A rock band. He’s the drummer. They were pretty cool, my dad was obsessed with them. Instead of letting me listen to Justin Bieber, he kept shoving their albums down my throat. Thank God, though. Justin Bieber’s music is shit.”
“Hey!” Eren raises a finger in the air, stopping you. “Do not insult my man.”
“You were a Belieber?”
“I am a Belieber,” he corrects with a proud look on his face.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Why would I? He’s my pride and joy. I used to spend hours, just… You know, biebing.”
“Oh my God, don’t talk to me.”
Taking the picture off the wall, your gaze softens as you recall your old days, reminiscing the time. “We used to jam to their songs every morning as Dad drove me to school. I think they’re in their seventies now, so they’ve retired for a while. Too old to be playing on the stage, I guess.” You place back the frame, shoulders sagging forward. “I wonder where they are now.” Are they still alive somewhere? Are they dead? Or worse, have they turned into one of them?
Eren, noticing the sadness that radiates off of you, lands a hand on your head. “Was Reiner your favorite member?”
“I like all of them. Their frontman was, like, the younger version of Kurt Cobain. Too bad he died in a car crash. Poor guy, he was so young too. So talented. And hot.”
The hand that’s been lightly stroking your hair stops. “Hotter than me? I doubt it.”
“Well, obviously—” You stop when realization dawns over you, whirling your head toward him so fast, it leaves you a bit dizzy.
Eren blinks uncomfortably at the sight of you scrutinizing his features. “W-what?”
“Now that I think about it, you kinda look like him.” The second the words break free from your mouth, you feel like you need to wash the filth off your tongue. “But ugh, that is so gross. I can’t believe I just said that.”
Eren just casually takes in what he wants to hear and ignores what he doesn’t want to hear. “Wait, so you’re saying I’m hot? Like rockstar level hot?”
You kick him in the shin and walk away.
The more you tour around the house, the more surprised you are by its grandeur. There are five bedrooms and six bathrooms inside–one of them even has a Japanese bathtub where you can spend your time relaxing while indulging yourself in the scenery of the lake. There’s also a spa and sauna, a fully-equipped gym, and a game room with an endless collection of comic books and action figures, a massive billiard table, and an old Pac-man arcade machine. With all that, you might never want to actually go out on the lake, opting instead to take advantage of all these luxe features.
Checking the room one by one, you notice one thing. The linens on the bed used to be crisp white but they’re painted with yellow stains as they haven’t been used for months. But judging from the way the room is very organized–no pencils on the table, no creases on the sheets, no sweaters hanging in the standing coat rack–maybe the room hasn’t been occupied in years. In one of the photo frames you find on the table, you see the happy family attending their younger child’s college graduation, celebrating it with hugs and kisses. Maybe she’s moved out of the house?
The next room has a more masculine vibe to it. Instead of salmon pink, the walls are painted gray. His son seems to be taking after his father’s hobby, with drumsticks signed by popular musicians decorating his shelf. There’s an entire wall dedicated to the Gods of Metal, with posters of Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath plastered against it. But just like the previous room, this one seems like it’s been abandoned for a while.
“Seems like it was only Reiner and his wife who stayed here,” Eren comments as you head toward the last room–the master suite. “Or maybe this is just their vacation house or something.”
“Why would the front door be unlocked if they weren’t here?”
Eren is still musing to find the answer when you curl your hand around the doorknob and push it open. You’ve prepared yourself for the worst, maybe one or two Darkseekers turning their heads toward you, but what you see is even worse.
Eren, who’s following close after you, lowers his gun. “Well, I guess we found our answer.”
Reiner and his wife—what’s left of them anyway—are lying down on the bed, their bodies are now dry, but still decaying very slowly. Bile rises to your throat as your nose picks up quickly on their stench, and if it was your first time encountering dead bodies, you must have vomited your insides.
Seeing you turn pasty, Eren clamps his fingers around your wrist and leads you outside, closing the door behind him. “You okay there?”
“I’m fine,” you say, inhaling as much fresh air as you can into your lungs. You loosen up your collar and hurriedly make your conclusion. “I think we can stay here. We’ll have to do something with the corpses later but… For now, we can rest.”
Eren nods. “I think I saw a door leading to the basement. Should we check it now or…” He stretches out a hand, caressing the side of your face with delicate fingers as his eyes droop in concern. “Do you want to take a break? I can do it on my own if you want to.”
He sees right through me, doesn’t he? You're trying your best to appear nonchalant but Eren always picks up every hint of distraught that bubbles inside your chest. “No, it’s—” You clear your throat. “Let's go.”
What Eren doesn't know is that you’re not saddened by the fact that the man who inspired you, who you so deeply admired as a kid, has passed away.
You’re crushed by the fact that it wasn't the virus that took him. It was the pills, taken from the packer bottle that sat on his nightstand, its lid still open as they didn’t find any reason to close it. They didn’t find any reason to do anything at all instead of swallowing down the pills and plastering a smile on their faces as they drifted away to sleep only to never wake up again. It’s acetaminophen, you know for certain, even without reading the label, as it was the same one that took your aunt’s life to free her from depression. It was also the one you considered taking, as a way to escape your fear of reality. Ten pills of those and death would take you on a journey.
Reiner and his wife didn’t die with black blood staining the sheets.
They died holding hands.
***
The basement, it turns out, is not a fucking basement.
It’s a soundproof media room with a Bang and Olufsen sound system, a wine cellar, a shelf full of Blu-ray DVDs, a karaoke player, and a music studio where you can locate the same set of drums Reiner used to play a few times in his concert decades ago. They have placed carpeted floors over wooden flooring, the walls are covered by textiles and porous materials to absorb the sound. The cabin-style basement is even completed with another fireplace plugged directly into the wall. It’s the electric kind that doesn’t need a ventilation system but still mimics a traditional wood-burning fireplace. The dancing flames might not be real but they can exude just as much warmth as the usual ones do. The rustic wood furniture is aesthetically pleasing to look at, providing a much more comfortable, warm atmosphere compared to the living room you saw upstairs.
“Look at this couch.” Eren, completely forgetting that he has a broken ankle, throws himself carelessly on the L-shaped sofa. As expected, he winces from the pain but it’s soon replaced by a long, drawled-out moan the second he feels how soft it is. He shifts around, trying down several positions until he lies down on his stomach. “Oh my God,” he sighs in bliss with one cheek pressed against the leather, his hand sliding up and down in a way that is almost similar to the way he caressed your legs two nights before—not that you should think about it. You’re sure by the size of it, the couch can fit more than eight people. Hell, you can even have three Erens lounging with their legs stretched out and you will still have room to sit.
“I don’t ever want to move out again,” he mumbles deliriously.
“From this house?” You can’t help but smile, folding your arms in front of your chest as you lean your back against the wall.
“From this couch. I’ll eat over here, cry over here. I’ll pee all over it if I have to, I don’t care. You’re my baby now.” He’s actually talking to the couch, nuzzling his face against it. “I’m never gonna walk away from you, Sofi.”
“Sofi?”
“Sofi the sofa.”
“Hmm, figured.”
“I was going to name it Coochie the Couch but then I remembered that it’s like slang for something completely different.”
You snort. “You’re probably gonna name our child the most basic name like Jack, or Bobby, or something.”
Wait.
Did you say your or our?
Your eyes quickly dart back to his face, and it doesn’t take long for you to know that yes, you clearly said our, you giant idiot.
“Your,” you correct hastily even though you know it’s no use now. Eren heard it well and now he looks like he’s about to burst with joy. The only choice you have right now is to disappear from the face of the earth. “I’m—” You scurry away. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
You take hasty steps toward the stairs, shouting stupid, stupid, you’re so stupid, inside your head as you do. A moment before you close the door behind you, Eren’s voice rings in your ear.
“Irene if it’s a girl.” You stop at once, feet shackled to the ground. You don’t allow yourself to throw a look over your shoulder no matter how much you want to. “And Jace if it’s a boy.”
Your fingers are curling tight against the side of your jeans, your face catching on fire. Irene and Jace… Fuck, those names are actually cute. And now you can’t help but put faces to their names, a little girl with the same brown hair and green eyes, and a tiny, tiny boy who looks like a spitting image of him. They might have your smile, but that’s it. The thought of it is so fucking cute, you can feel your heart clawing its way to jump out of your chest.
“Go take a shower, you stink,” is the only thing you can say with a dysfunctioning brain. Exiting the basement, you press your backside against the closed door. Your palm drifts up to conceal the bottom half of your face. You can almost quite literally feel your skin burning.
Fuck, this is so bad.
It’s bad that I want it too.
***
Your house is the only one that’s located near the lake. You’re separated by a few miles from the other houses, where you can only hear the sounds of rippling water and swaying branches that are kissed by the autumn breeze, and the anthems that the frogs sing. Once the sky is ablaze with the fire of the setting sun, you close all the curtains, turn off all the lights, lock all the doors and windows. You can barely do anything with the 30-foot-tall wall of windows, but as long as you remain within your room, they won’t detect any movements from the other side. The windows are made from tempered glass, highly durable and resilient to impact, which adds to your reassurance even though you knew, they wouldn’t hold them back for long if they used all their strength to tear them down. But as long as they don’t notice you’re there, you should be safe.
“I think we should both stay in the basement,” you suggest, “It’s a perfect place to hide, soundproof and all.”
Eren’s heart jolted at the offer but he affirms with a steady nod. He’s not sure what he is so nervous about—it’s not like this is going to be the first time you share the room with him. Is it because you’ve told him you loved him too? Is it because he can tell you’ve been secretly visualizing yourself growing old with him in this house, just as much as he has? Or is it really something as simple as the way he can smell that addicting strawberry scent from your hair, your body fresh and warm from the shower you just took; or the way you look so cuddly wearing an oversized sweater with sleeves too long for your arms?
“Can you please, umm…” You scratch your cheek, avoiding his gaze. “Stop staring at me like that?”
A flush creeps up his cheek. “S-sorry.”
Eren walks past you, still hobbling on his feet as he takes a seat on the couch. Just like you, he just finished taking his shower, rubbing off all the dirt and blood that coated his skin. He wears his hair loose, seemingly a bit longer now with the end of his strands stopping an inch below his collarbones.
Trying to shake off whatever this awkward tension that surrounds you, you decide to treat his injury, just like you did a moment after the fight ended. Grabbing the emergency kit, you go down to your knees before him, carefully checking on his ankle. “Does it still hurt?” You ask as you unfasten his bandage, wanting to change it to a new one as it is damp after the shower.
He winces at the touch, even when you’ve tried your best to be gentle. “A little.”
Swelling and bruising around the joint, there are splotches of black and blue sketched upon his sun-kissed skin, tracking down toward the sole of his foot. You apply cold packs to the injured area, hoping it will decrease swelling and pain. Eren watches you with unblinking eyes, entranced with the way you seem almost motherly as you treat his wound. The flames from the electric fireplace cast amber on your skin, and you seem so pretty, glowing underneath the dim light. And when you raise a hand to push a lock of stray hair behind your ear, Eren almost groans, feeling utterly disappointed that he’s not fast enough to do it himself.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice, even if it’s softer than usual, still startles him as he’s been daydreaming again. “It must have been painful to move around the whole day. When did this happen exactly?”
“Umm… I’m not sure. Probably when I tackled that Darkseeker away from you.”
“Probably? Did you not feel pain when it broke?”
“I only noticed I broke it after I was sure you were safe,” he mumbles out sheepishly. “I was… too busy thinking about you, I guess.”
Ah, damn it. You rise to stand on your knees only to flick him right on his forehead.
“Aaw!” he hisses. “What was that for?”
“For being embarrassing like always.” You return to your kit, rummaging through the box to find a new roll of bandage. “You should take some ibuprofen,” you suggest, wrapping it around his ankle to restrict him from moving it too much. “It’s a painkiller, but it will also keep inflammation down. Lie down on the couch.”
Eren, noticing that you turned bashful by his words, follows your command with a little smile breaking on his lips. It turns out that the couch has a metal frame and a memory foam mattress underneath its seating cushions, and it feels even comfier than the actual couch itself. You’ve brought more blankets and pillows with you, transforming the couch into your prime sleep spot, hopefully for the next few weeks. Months, if you’re lucky.
You place a pillow underneath his leg, elevating his ankle, and two more on each side to keep it trapped. “Try not to move too much,” you say, draping a blanket over his body and pulling it up until he has his shoulders covered. He already looks funny this way, a 6.3-feet tall muscly man, shrouded by a quilt like a child, but you decide to tuck the blanket underneath his body, transforming him into a cocoon. You beam at him with a cheeky grin which he reciprocates with a pout.
“Happy now?” He asks, jutting out his lower lip as if he didn’t look childish enough before.
“Immensely.”
“How can I cuddle with you if I’m like this?”
“Who said we were going to cuddle?”
His jaw drops, nothing but disappointment gleams in his eyes. “We weren’t?”
You slam your pillow once against his face, muttering, “Go to sleep. The sun’s down in ten minutes,” before you move to your other side of the bed, sighing in bliss once you feel just how comfortable the mattress is. You let your muscles unwind, closing your eyes and taking a moment to thank whatever supernatural forces it is that have kept you breathing to this point.
You can’t hear anything from inside the basement. Not the wind that caresses your windows, not the pit patter of raindrops, not the snarling or the sound of branches cracking under their feet. The tranquility of it all seems eerie at first, but once you focus on the steady sound of Eren’s breathing, you finally can believe that you are safe.
“Princess,” Eren whispers, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?”
“It’s hot,” he says, struggling to break free. “Can you help me get out of this? My balls are literally sweating right now.”
You restrain the urge to laugh only because you have to stay quiet. Rolling to your side, you help him loosen the fabric around him. “There. Now, you can—“ Eren pulls you into his arms without warning, using more strength than necessary that you end up with a little “Oof!” breaking past your lips once you land your face on his chest. He lays on his side, his strong, long arms wrapping themselves around your shoulders.
“I thought you said you were sweating,” your voice is muffled by the thin layer of his black sleeveless shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the muscles of his chest and abdomen.
“Yeah, but now I’m cold and you’re so warm.” He buries his nose in your strands, not so secretly inhaling your scent as he embraces you tighter.
Back when you were a kid, you used to have a huge teddy bear plush sitting on your bed. You called it Mr. Cuddlesworth, and you talked to it every night, tangled your limbs around it, and stayed like that until morning. Your mother used to wash it often as you tended to drool all over it, and every time she took it away, you would find yourself staring vacantly at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You only managed to stop being attached to it when your dad accidentally gave it away to your cousin one summer, thinking that you didn’t need it any longer. You were devastated. It almost felt like you lost a family member. You even bought a new one to replace it, the same kind, the same brand, the same color, and size, but it didn’t feel the same.
Until now. “Mr. Cuddlesworth,” you accidentally mumble out loud, sighing against the fabric of his shirt.
“Mr. Cuddlesworth?”
In a desperate attempt to conceal your shame, you bury your face deeper in his chest. Eren’s chuckle reverberates deep where you can feel its vibration directly on your skin. “Who’s Mr. Cuddlesworth? Your ex-boyfriend?”
“My teddy bear. But yeah, my ex-boyfriend too, I guess.”
“What, I’m your teddy bear now?”
“Well, you’re big and you’re warm and you’re so cuddly and–” You catch yourself, ending your line abruptly with a pout. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Holy shit, you need to stop, Princess.” He hugs you in a way a child would hug his favorite doll. “You’re literally the cutest person I’ve ever met. But you’re also so strong and badass at the same time. How is that possible?”
“S-shut up.”
“See? You just got ten times cuter now–ouch, stop punching me! Show Mr. Cuddlesworth some love!”
“Ugh, I actually hate you.”
“And I love you too.” He catches your hand, filling the spaces between your fingers with his. That gentle brush of his lips against your forehead, the way his voice turns delicate, calms you down until you’re back to your previous position. “Wish we could stay like this forever,” he murmurs with his eyes closed, sounding more like a confession than a mere wish. “Just you and me.”
In different circumstances, you might pinch his nose and reprimand him for spouting out corny lines like usual, but right now, especially after what happened the night before, you feel like he’s saying the words you’ve been chanting in your head. So, instead of pushing him away, you rest your forehead on his chest, fingers curling against the front of his shirt as you breathe out, “Me too.”
And that makes him think. “Princess… Did you see the way Reiner…” His voice falters, unsure if it’s okay to continue but he feels you giving him a timid nod.
“They were holding hands,” you echo his thoughts. “They killed themselves.”
“Why do you think that’s the case?”
“Maybe they were too afraid. Maybe they felt it was better to die in their sleep than to have the virus rupture their organs from the inside. Or worse, be turned into one of them.”
Eren grows exceptionally quiet. It takes him almost a minute before he can form a response. “Do you think it’s right for them to do it?”
“No,” you say, and you feel guilt residing within you from telling such lies, as it was the same option you had considered taking months ago. “I think it’s wrong that they gave up before they tried to fight back.”
“Maybe the reason why they didn’t fight back is that they couldn’t afford to lose one another.”
“You think it’s better to die with your loved one instead of trying to survive for yourself?”
“I think it’s an understandable choice,” he answers. “It’s a nice way to die.”
A nice way to die? You feel your heart plummet to your stomach. Exhaling heavily, you rest your palm on his cheek. “Why don’t we just focus on living for now?”
“You’re right.” Eren naturally leans into your touch, lips curving up into a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Shit got depressing real quick, huh?”
For a moment, you consider stopping the conversation there, but there’s this fear that builds up quickly inside your chest, that you need to let out before it starts smothering you. “Eren… You remember what I told you, right?” You question him with your voice and your heart close to breaking. “Do whatever it takes for you to survive. With or without me. You promised me that once, and I want you to promise me that again.”
You can still see it, see the way his whole body is on the verge of screaming, “I would stay with you until the end, no matter what happens,” but his lips are pressed in a tight line, mustering all his willpower to contain the words from breaking free.
Because you are crying on his chest. Softly, weakly, like a little child trembling in fear. It all comes so suddenly too, startling you both. “Why are you crying?” He strokes your hair a moment before he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone, wiping away the stain.
The more you feel alive, the more you fear death. The more happiness he gives you, the bigger the pain he’ll inflict when fate cuts your bond for good. And with him sounding like he’d rather die with you than survive on his own, you fear death more than ever. But instead of telling him these words, you fist his shirt and lock your lips together.
Eren, stunned by the action, still has his eyes opened until you part away from him two seconds later. “Princess?”
“Hold me,” you whisper, hand sliding past his shoulder before it rests on his nape. Make me forget about everything. Remind me that at this moment, we’re still alive. That you’re breathing my breath and I’m breathing yours. Drown me with whatever you have until I can escape my fear, just for tonight. “Just… hold me close, Ren…”
Eren lowers his head until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. His hand slips through your strands, fingers tangled and pressed against the back of your skull. You have your eyes closed and so does he, and for a few seconds, you stay in that position with your foreheads glued to each other. Then he kisses you softly on the lips, pouring all his love into that one kiss until he burns you with it. And just like that, he fulfills your wish.
He’s alive. You both are. And you stop thinking about the number of days you have left. Even before the outbreak, everybody has their days numbered, so why should this be any different? All that matters now is that you’re living this exact moment with him where your heart feels so full and your body invincible from the amount of joy that surges through you.
This. This moment right here. This is what matters the most.
***
AN: Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading! Sorry it took me a while to update this, but I hope it's worth the wait 😭 There will be a bonus chapter where Eren's gonna take you out on a date hehe please look forward to it!
Thank you so much Aleks, Coi and Ben for beta-reading this ❤️
Tagging:
@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza thanks so much for reading, lovelies ❤️❤️❤️
#eren smut#eren fluff#eren x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#aot x reader#snk x reader#eren jaeger fluff#eren yeager fluff#eren x you#eren#eren jaeger#eren yeager#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#never let me go canon
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I never want to hear Atla critisism from Fma stans.Atla is about a 12 year old asian genocide survivor who's also a gnc boy and has a brown punk girl with respectfully handled and adressed adultification trauma as his love interest and the other characters include a blind baby butch,an abuse victim with unpretty trauma and a big ass scar on his face but gets potrayed as super attractive and appealing and has what's rightfully considered the perfect redemption arc,his sister who faced the reverse of his abuse tactic from their dad and is placed as a tragic villain since she's only a 14 year old and a gloomy mean outcast goth girl/bubbly pastel optimistic popular girl duo that're never pitted eachother over a boy and are childhood best friends where one of them betrayed a person they were deeply afraid of for years to save them and the show ends with Aang keeping the Air Nomads culture alive by not killing Ozai but still getting rid of him to respect irl buddhism
Fma is about a blonde white boy who's all 'Ooooh i'm too cool and edgy to be openly nice and mushy' and his love interest is a blonde blue eyed white girl that he used to see as his sister because they grew up together and bickers with nonstop and they even have a scene he sees the lower half of her boobs when she's undressing and the timeline makes it so she was 17 at the oldest in it and the other characters include a black girl with straight hair who barely gets screentime much less an arc,two darkskin moc who's people were etchnically cleansed and one gets strawmaned as 'too violent' for being traumatized and taking direct action and the other gets framed as 'one of the good ones' for joining the military that did the killings,TWO blonde white women who're military highups and extremely regularly cruel to moc and this is framed as making them girlbosses and a white dude who feels no remorse for LITERALLY PLAYING DIRECTLY INTO THE GENOCIDE that's death is framed as the saddest thing ever and the series ends with Ed's physical disabilities being taken away and Roy being blind for three minutes before that ALSO gets 'cured'(ew)
Like end of contest BYE
#atla geekery#fma#anti fma#aang#katara#kataang#toph beifong#zuko#azula#mai atla#ty lee#ty luko#punk katara#azula deserved better#t4t kataang#t4t ty luko#genderfluid aang#autistic aang#trans ty lee#autistic ty lee#trans mai#autistic mai#transmasc toph#💌#poc#genocide cw#summerposting#scar fma#major miles
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Aliyaa’s magic HC.
“In Darkness I believe,”
——Aliyaa Aepel
Gifs/Pics aren’t mine. I found them in pinterest
Magic is a tricky concept in Aliyaa’s life. It’s an important aspect of hers too, Most magic users summon their magic by their emotions; unlike Aliyaa, She uses her thoughts instead.
Because she knew that her emotions are like a raging sea and blazing fire. Years of abuse, negligence and trauma and her father’s death was the last straw for her. She let go of everything and thus darkness consumed her.
Unlike her emotions; Her thoughts are stable and calm. She always depends on them, because they are stable.
Born with darkness for as long as she can remember, people were oblivious to it because she was stable and loved by her father and friends, thus she was happy and stable. When these things were stolen from her. She rebelled and unleash her darkness; letting the whole world know her pain and suffering.
Aliyaa was thrust into a harsh world that forced her to mature beyond her years. She became a fierce survivor, adapting to the challenges that came her way. But when her father, the only source of love and happiness in her life, passed away, it felt like those precious emotions were ripped away from her, leaving her heartbroken cruel, dark and alone.
She literally took ‘It takes a monster to kill another’ to a whole different level. And she becomes a monster herself to kill other monsters.
Aliyaa’s magic is black-coloured.
She created her dark mirror when she found the shards of the dark mirror, which was originally made by a dark and powerful mage they call ‘The Whisperer’.
In her journey for vengeance; she honed her dark magic and spells by Donovan: The master of all evil, She met him in his ‘dark domain’ and he taught her everything she wants to know about dark magic and magic as a whole.
Aliyaa learnt ‘heart ripping’ by him. She literally rips peoples’ and creatures hearts by shoving her hand into their ribcages when she pulled them out they turn into crystal-stone like objects instead of bloody and meaty organs. She also can command them and break them; thus resulting in their demise.
She uses dark magic to kill monsters and harm evil people, Some are immune to dark magic she uses light magic to harm. She can use both art of magic to kill and destroy.
Aliyaa’s dark magic can pollute and infect everything: People, Water, other creatures and things. She can whisper into people and inflict them with ‘madness magic’ which is a vile and worst type of magic ever invented. She uses her magic in the water as a mean to guide her.
Aliyaa is like a shadow. No one can hear her footsteps at all unless she wanted them to.
Years later, She developed a new art of magic ‘Dark Light’ combining dark magic and light magic to create even more powerful magic and spells with traits of darkness and light.
#Roselyn writes#Roselyn posts#Aliyaa Aepel#Dark Magic#Magic#Light Magic#HC#trivia#facts#Original Character#OC#oc community#headcanons#oc bio#oc lore#lore#oc biography#oc background#oc backstory
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