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eyndr-stories · 1 year

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To Be Alive (FNAF SB fanfic) C2 - Extreme Bumper Cars

In summary:

At long last, the thrilling continuation of 'To Be Human'! There are more shenanigans for Star and co to get up to, and new horrors to be subjected to! Not to mention, Eclipse is still at large and up to no good... As 'To Be Human' is a self contained stand-alone story, one could very well choose to leave the adventure as is! Considering there are some heavier themes in this one (biggest thing here being death, specifically) that's exactly what I would recommend you do if you like everything very much the way it ended in 'To Be Human'. This story is an exploration of a few ideas I wanted to work with left over from the first story, and a way to tie up some very minor loose ends, as well as a return to some characters and a world I had a lot of fun with.

Things To Know:

Reader insert! Y/N is not used and gender is not specified, though the reader does have a blorbo-appointed name (Star)

Non-specified relationships between reader and Sun & Moon, this can be read as pals, family, partners, whatever you like, totally up to your interpretation

Sun & Moon are separate bots and referred to with gender neutral pronouns

The reader and other characters are often in mortal peril! This world is full of Funky Creatures (other than you) and some of them attack and hurt several characters, including the reader character

Some blood and minor gore

Occasional swearing

Death

(as always, let me know if I should add anything!)

Ao3 link: Right here!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

C2 - Extreme Bumper Cars

"WHAT."

You turned to Monty, who'd grabbed your shoulder.

"Mind running that by me one more time??" Monty asked, his voice unnaturally high.

"I don't want you all to worry," you started, patting Monty's arm. "We found out a little while ago."

"How? Why??" Foxy questioned, sounding just as concerned as everyone else looked.

"Well…" Sun spoke up, all four hands folded into tight pairs. "As you know, the air is clean of the toxic chemicals from the asteroid that killed the last humans left on Earth. However, as we've discovered, the earth itself is not. The toxins were absorbed into the ground. Every plant, every new organic creature born after the asteroid contains some of the same toxin, which Moon and I theorize is how some mutations in some of the animals occurred as well. The toxin is deadly to humans, as we know. It is, unfortunately, everywhere. In all the food Star needs to eat, and the water they need to drink."

"We're working on a cure, of course. We've been working very hard, and making good progress, it's just… painfully slow going," Moon added, their voice tinged with impatience.

"…" Monty stared at you intently. You couldn't read his expression.

"Hon, I'm so sorry," Chica offered quietly.

You shook your head. Everyone was worried about you, they were all upset, and that wasn't what you wanted. "It's alright. Listen, everything dies eventually. Even if I wasn't at risk of dying soon, just by being human, I wouldn't live as long as any of you by a long shot anyways. It's really not so bad."

"Oh. Oh no," Freddy mumbled.

Monty pulled you into a hug. Even as he nearly crushed you into putty, you could see that everyone was sad now. Foxy put their hand on their head and leaned back against the counter. Bonnie looked close to tears and was gripping Freddy's hand tightly. Even Roxy looked upset.

Dammit. That was supposed to have made things better. Fuck.

"Like Moon said, we're working hard on a cure! And we really have been making progress, so lets not loose hope just yet. Star's going to be just fine," Sun stated, sounding a little strained.

"The cure would also help any humans who might decide to return to Earth some day. And from their research they're also learning more about the creatures in the forest too! So everyone will be safer," you added. The good news and assurances seemed to raise everyone's spirits a little, so you went on. "Please don't be sad. You're my friends, I don't want any of you to be sad. Like Sun and Moon said, they're working really hard, so I'm sure they'll have a cure in no time and everything will be fine."

"We can't help caring about ya. You're right though, no sense in getting our wires in a bunch just yet." Foxy straightened up and gave you a gentle pat on the head.

Monty reluctantly released you from his crushing hug. "You better make it out alright, you hear me?"

"I'll try my best," you said. All this attention and concern and care was getting to be too much. "Lets all go see Roxy's race, okay?"

The group all agreed, brightening up for what you suspected was your sake. You hoped the race would get everyone in better spirits. Together, you all closed up shop and headed out as a group towards the other end of town. You stowed your new notebook and pens away in your bag, and your ukulele had a handy strap on it that allowed you to carry it over your back with your bag.

The streets became more and more populated the farther in you went. You had your hood up and were surrounded by your friends, so you didn't draw too much attention. Sun and Moon, on the other hand, did draw a few eyes. After publishing their research and findings around you and the history of what happened to the humans, they'd become celebrities, to some degree. Especially in the human fanatic circles.

Despite your disguise, you still found yourself the center of attention once or twice along the way. Usually bots would spot Sun and Moon first, and then would notice you, their famous human creation. You didn't mind the attention very much, didn't even mind the questions bots would ask you about humans and human culture. These bots were just excited and never meant any harm. And, admittedly, all the adoration and amazement was nice too. Roxy seemed to be getting annoyed at having to stop, though. The others didn’t mind, especially Bonnie and Freddy, who seemed to be off in their own little world when they weren’t in the shop. They were holding hands and smiling and chatting with each other quietly, laughing occasionally.

"Maybe we should get disguises as well," Moon muttered after politely excusing themself from a pair of boxy one-eyed bots who reluctantly rolled away on heavy duty wheels. Both bots looked to have had a paint job done recently, sporting bright blue and yellow colors.

"Oh please, you love the attention," Sun teased.

Moon scoffed. "I just don't mind that no one looks down on us anymore. We're viewed as legitimate scientists now."

"We were legitimate scientists before, regardless of what anyone said," Sun pointed out.

"Yes, yes." Moon waved them off. "In any case, Eclipse could have eyes anywhere."

Sun nodded. "We can look into disguises later."

The lot of you made it to the race track without issue. It was Roxy's turn to draw attention now. A lot of bots here knew her as a racer, and she had quite a few fans. Working downhill through the crowd and towards the track was slow going as Roxy proudly greeted each and every fan. Bots of all types were gathered here, on the edge of town between the track and the buildings and bustling streets. You couldn't help but stare, especially since all the attention was on Roxy, and no one would really notice your ogling. A lot of bots were similar in design, but with modifications and paint being as accessible as they were, no two bots looked the same. As far as general models go, you'd learned to recognize three distinct types.

There were bots that looked to have been made solely for specific jobs or tasks, for instance a particularly tall bot who stood out in the crowd, towering over everyone with thick telescopic limbs and wide hand-like appendages, who you guessed was good with construction, lifting heavy things up higher than most could reach. You nearly ran into a different bot, someone smaller than you, with a blur of small limbs folding in and out as they navigated the crowd, each limb fixed with dozens of fine little tools, clearly made for detail work of some sort.

Slightly less common were bots like the repair gang, modeled after animals and ancient creatures. These types of bots were, as you'd been told, some of the very first models ever built, their accessible blueprints left by the humans making them easy to build more of and improve on. These bots tended to serve any manner of different roles in society, going where they were needed, their designs being more adaptable, albeit less specialized.

Least common were bots like Sun and Moon. These bots resembled humans the most, having originally been crafted in their likeliness. Although, as Sun and Moon had told you, they'd gotten a few mods in their time, the biggest change from their original design being an extra pair of arms. These humanoid bots, as you'd been told, had been built from prototypes and early stage creations from humans figuring out how to build the first iterations of sentient bots. These bots tended to be more complex, their blueprints less clear and less accessible. A large part of their design included the technology that made them self sustaining, energy producing robots. As you'd been told, reverse engineering the tech and figuring out how to make every bot self sustaining was extremely difficult not only because of how rare these bots were, but also because to make any actual progress on this research, a volunteer bot would need to be deactivated. Needless to say, focusing on alternatives like renewable energy were far more preferable.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you and your friends found a spot close to the track, at the front of the crowd. A short concrete wall was all that separated you from looping dirt roads. Everyone wished Roxy luck as she departed, hopping the wall and heading out onto the track towards the warehouse turned garage at its center. Seated atop this building, looking out over the entire track and the crowd was the race's moderator, an enormous bot everyone called the DJ. They would provide fast paced and energetic music during the race, as well as move any wrecked vehicles off the track with their extendable limbs and claw-like hands. The first time you'd come to see a race, you'd been warned about the DJ's associate, a miniature version of the DJ who was allegedly no taller than your knee. The mini DJ would scurry throughout the crowds and rob distracted bots of any valuables and loose batteries during the race.

Speaking of the DJ, their music started up, signaling the race was starting soon. The crowd settled and pressed towards the wall surrounding the track.

You pat your hands excitedly along the top of the wall. You ignored the headache pounding dully at your skull and focused instead on the music.

Ten vehicles all lined themselves up at the starting line as the music thrummed with enough force to shake the pants around your legs. You could easily see Roxy's car from here, with its neon green painted metal ring encircling it, a sturdy barrier between Roxy and the other vehicles.

"Woo!! You got this Roxy!!!" Chica cheered beside you.

Out on the line, you could see Roxy's hand pop out of the open top of her car. She gave a quick wave, and then the music began to build as the DJ readied their giant flag.

The DJ gave their flag a little spin, then brought the flag down sharply, exactly on time with the beat drop, and the race began.

Vehicles tore away from the starting line, leaving a cloud of purple dust in their wake. Roxy looked to be squarely in the middle, where most of the chaos was happening. The bumper around her car kept her from getting crushed between something that looked like a tank, and another vehicle with three connected segments.

Three cars were out of the race before the first bend. One looked to have been caught in some kind of tar spillage, and the DJ was having some trouble plucking it off the track. They'd already taken the other two vehicles off the track, one having spun off and hit the wall around the garage. The other had flipped and rolled, but you could see its driver fuming outside the wreckage, angrily kicking at their totaled vehicle.

Back in the race, Roxy was steadily pulling ahead. She hugged the curves tightly, her car drifting smoothly around tighter turns. She was neck and neck with what looked like a cannon on wheels.

"If she gets ahead of that cannon, she'll be in it's range," Chica said.

"Is that allowed?? A canon for a car?" you asked, struggling to project over the music and the cacophany of noise form the track.

"Aye, there’s no rule against it," Foxy told you.

Monty added, "There are actually very few rules in racing! It’s the best."

Speaking of the canon car, it fired a cannonball at a car ahead of it. The car was very small and nimble, running on only three wheels, and had been doing a great job of dodging and weaving around the chaos of colliding cars. The small car narrowly avoided getting crushed under the cannonball. The canon car swerved around their cannonball. The car tailing behind them wasn’t as quick, and collided with the cannonball. The DJ quickly pulled the car off the track.

Roxy pulled ahead as the canon car was loading up another cannonball. She had almost passed the smaller car when the tank from before swerved, slamming into Roxy's bumper ring. The tank didn't let up, the massive machine easily shoving Roxy's smaller car along until it was pinned between the tank and the outer wall. The friction with the wall forced Roxy's car to slow, and she fell back behind the tank.

"Oh no, she's in range of the canon-!" Chica yelled.

The cannon fired, cannonball crashing right into Roxy's bumper ring, narrowly missing the car itself. The cannonball tore off the left half of her ring, which rolled and tumbled as it tore away, and ended up flying right into the canon car. The debris threw the massive canon off balance. The car careened to the side, tipped, and rolled. It took out another car as it fell out of the race, then was carried off to the garage by the DJ.

Four cars left. Roxy was still in it, though her car looked a little off balance and would tilt dangerously if she turned to the right a little too fast. Which was bad news, as a sharp right curve was coming up, the last loop before the final stretch to the finish line.

The segmented car was currently in the lead, though the small nimble car was gaining on it. Roxy was alongside the tank again, which was already veering to try and crush her car against the outer wall again.

At the last moment, Roxy hit the brakes, quickly falling behind the tank and pulling around the other side of it as the tank slammed into the wall, and kept going. The tank crashed right through the outer barrier, its treads getting caught up on the concrete as it rolled over the wall. Rubble from the barrier clogged up the treads, and the tank was out of the race. Roxy wasn't out of trouble yet, though; the turn was upon her.

Roxy's car spun, and for a moment, you thought it might be finally careening out of control, but it only spun one-eighty degrees. Roxy quickly shifted gears, and she was suddenly driving backwards, with the half of the bumper still in tact now facing the outer edge of the turn. She made the turn with ease without tipping.

The crowd went wild at the stunt. You could barely hear the music for a moment over the cheers. Chica was jumping up and down excitedly next to you, Monty and Sun were both yelling, Foxy was laughing with amazement, Freddy and Bonnie were cheering, even Moon looked impressed.

It wasn't over yet, though. The segmented car and the nimble car were neck and neck, and Roxy was still gaining. The finish line was in sight.

The nimble car slowed slightly. It came up beside the segmented car, lining up right with the contracting accordion connecting the first two segments together. The cars were close enough now that you could see the driver of the nimble car pop up, their arm wound back for a punch. They launched a spring loaded fist right into the accordion connecting the segments of the other car. The accordion shuddered and snapped, and the segments collided together, the force too much for the back segment to handle alone. The car careened to the side and rolled, nearly taking out Roxy, who'd come up right behind. She swerved, still driving backwards. She was quickly gaining on the nimble car, and it looked like the nimble car couldn't work up enough speed to outpace her.

"It's gonna be close!" Chica said.

Roxy was starting to pass the smaller car, moving up along its right side. The smaller car had other plans, though. The driver popped up again as the nimble car drifted closer to Roxy, no bumper on that side to stop them.

Roxy spun again, managing to pull off the stunt quick enough to nail the other car with the bumper as it spun around, colliding with the smaller car. The smaller car was knocked away before the driver could throw their punch, and while the driver managed to swerve and keep the car from crashing, they lost a great deal of ground in the process, falling behind Roxy's car, just as it flew past the finish line.

The music switched to a celebratory tune, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Roxy's car rolled to a stop a short ways away, and she jumped out and climbed up on top, facing the crowd and raising two triumphant fists, flashing a proud grin.

You yelled and cheered along with your friends, heart still pounding from the excitement. Roxy ran over to greet everyone after graciously accepting her winning medal. She looked even happier to receive a big hug from Chica.

You grinned at all your friends, all of them happy and excited. Monty and Foxy were exclaiming excitedly with Roxy about the sick stunts she'd pulled, Freddy had lifted Bonnie in a celebratory hug and was spinning him around, Sun and Moon were congratulating Roxy on a race well won. You smiled and took it all in, wanting to hold this moment in your mind for as long as you were able.

The moment kept you in high spirits, even as you said farewell to everyone and departed for the lab. It even kept you in high spirits through the whole walk home, even though you had to stop a lot more than usual to rest. You just couldn't seem to catch your breath.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Sun and Moon. They sat with you in what you were calling the living room of your little home, that little area near the door with the chairs. You sat yourself in the nearest chair the moment you were through the door, barely managing to get your backpack off before doing so. Your two solar themed companions sat as casually as they could, though you thought they still looked uncomfortable.

Sun looked at Moon, who looked back at Sun, who sighed.

“So, Star,” Sun started. “How are you… feeling?”

“Tired,” you replied honestly. It felt like you couldn’t take in enough air. The walk had left you entirely exhausted, though you were trying to hide it, breathing through your nose.

“Right. But how are you doing, Star?” Moon asked.

“…Oh.” You paused, looking away. “You mean like… with everything?”

“Yes,” Moon confirmed, and Sun nodded.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m alright, not too stressed or anything,” you said.

Moon and Sun both stared at you, clearly disbelieving.

You sighed. “Alright. Yeah, I’m…I know I’ve faced my mortality before. Heck, I nearly died a few days ago when I fought off that big bird creature. But still, I… I don’t wanna die. I’m… scared.” You thought about the humans in the catacombs. This must have been how they felt. Like it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t your fault you were dying, there was nothing you could do about it. You’d done everything right, but it didn’t matter. You were still dying, and it wasn’t fair. It was terrifying, and there wasn’t anything to be done about the fear. No forest monster to fight off or flee from and be done with it. You just had to sit with it.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. If there’s anything we can do to make it easier, let us know. And we’re going to keep working, okay? We’re going to find a cure,” Sun stated.

“I’ve been compiling and sorting through notes in my head all day,” Moon said. “I’m sure Sun has been too. Even when we’re not working, we’re still working. It won’t be long now before we figure something out.”

“Right.” You tried to let that assure you. You still hated the feeling that it was entirely out of your hands. You thought again about the humans in the catacombs. “It’ll be good to have a cure for the other humans too, if they ever come back to Earth. I would hate for the people in the catacombs to have all died saving the world just for the world to turn around and wipe out all the humans.”

“We’ll find the cure, that’s for certain,” Sun assured. “It’s just a matter of… doing it quickly enough for you to have a long and healthy and happy life, like you deserve.”

Moon got to their feet. “I think my circuits are going to fry if I keep sitting around. I’ll be down in the lab.” Moon paused beside your chair. They gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, then carried on towards the door.

“I’ll join Moon in a moment. First, I can make you some food. And then you should get some rest, alright?” Sun sprang to their feet as well, heading for the kitchen.

“Alright.” Normally you’d argue and try to stay up, but you really were tired.

As Sun moved around in the kitchen behind you, your eyes fell on the ukulele you'd set down with your bag. You picked it up and adjusted in your chair, getting comfortable. You started to play around with it, just enjoying the act of noise making.

Before long, you were actually feeling a little better about things. You weren't sure what it was, but just something about having a little bit of fun really softened the fears.

You played around with the ukulele until it was time to eat. Sun left to join Moon down in the lab, but not before wishing you a happy birthday. After you finished eating, you clambered up onto one of the top bunks, bringing your bag and all your things up with you.

You stayed up for a while longer than you should have, testing out your pens in your new notebook. You doodled silly things, your friends, leaves and plants and creatures from the forest, and you practiced writing in that language all the bots used, and all the languages your brain could recall. Everything was rough and wobbly with your unpracticed hands, but the colors were nice and you were having fun.

When you finally drifted off to sleep, your dreams were calm and kind and restful. All things considered, you'd had a pretty great birthday after all.

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bakuhatsufallinlove · 1 month

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Let's talk about Jump GIGA

Jump GIGA covers, 2016-2024. Volumes are published (left to right per row) as Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn releases, with 2018 and 2019 briefly breaking the pattern by having three Winter and three Summer volumes each. 2023 has an Early Spring volume in addition to the standard four.

So, people have pointed out that the 2024 Spring cover is, uh, not like other covers.

But I've only seen comparisons to other MHA GIGA covers and MHA Weekly Shonen Jump covers. Out of curiosity for what GIGA's typical marketing aesthetics might be, I put together a comparison between all of Jump GIGA's covers to date.

And, um. Some things stand out, to say the least.

First, let me clarify what Jump GIGA even is: it is a seasonal magazine from Shonen Jump, published separate from Weekly Shonen Jump. SJ is an absolutely massive brand and they have a number of magazines serialized outside of the most well-known weekly magazine.

The content of Jump GIGA is primarily made up of one-shots and spin-offs. From the beginning, a lot of the appeal has been the cool cover illustrations which showcase special merchandise that comes with the purchase of GIGA. Usually the cover also promotes big things going on related to the WSJ series, like movie events, new games, or special figurines for sale.

The marketing aesthetic has been clear from the start: the cover consists of one core illustration and a number of ads surrounding it. Most often you get a cover illustration of a protagonist, and then ads and merch for other series, e.g. Food Wars protagonist cover with One Piece film promotion and Haikyuu!! merch.

The purpose of this marketing direction is pretty obvious. Spin-offs and one-shots are not likely to generate a ton of interest consistently, so they lure people in with the cool covers and tempting limited edition merchandise of the series they already know and love. In this way, highlighting one series with the cover and different series with the merch makes sense, because maybe somebody doesn't care about Food Wars, but they definitely want those Haikyuu!! stickers, stuff like that.

Starting from 2020's Autumn volume, you can see a shift. For the first time, basically all of the merchandise is for the cover series. The Demon Slayer manga had already ended five months earlier in May, but a two-chapter spin-off was scheduled for release in WSJ during October. This GIGA was released exactly one day before the second chapter was published and it capitalizes on the hype.

After this point, only MHA and Jujutsu Kaisen dominate the cover and the merch in quite this way, with Black Clover getting attention last volume as a way to highlight the fact that it actually switched syndication from WSJ to GIGA.

Anyway, most commonly the cover illustration is a solo shot of a core cast member (usually but not always the protagonist), and if it's not a solo, it's a big cast illustration.

Only a few covers focus on two characters, and usually it's a crossover as opposed to characters from same series sharing the limelight.

Here we've got Food Wars' protagonist with the main characters from Dr. Stone and Act-Age.

The two covers most similar to the Izuku & Kacchan cover are 2022 Winter and 2023 Autumn.

Winter depicts the main trio of Blue Box in a seasonally-appropriate aesthetic. Not gonna lie, this one kinda makes me laugh--Blue Box is a romance and sports manga, and even though Christmas has a romantic air to it in Japan, instead of depicting any sort of like, hesitant but hopeful romantic energy between the heterosexual couple that actually get together later in the series, they focus primarily on the two girls being cute with the guy is a wee footnote? I mean, all right.

Meanwhile, Autumn depicts one of the protagonists with the series antagonist with a typical cool action style. I'm not very familiar with JJK, but I hear these two have got Some Drama going on, so, there's that.

The merch itself has also evolved over the years. Stickers and posters were present early on, but they have since expanded to decorative folders and now acrylic stands and coasters. 2021 Summer sees the first time the cover illustration is marketed as merch, with the Jujutsu Kaisen cover included as a decorative folder.

Right after that, the Kacchan cover of 2021 Autumn is included as a poster alongside earlier covers featuring Todoroki and Izuku.

2023 Summer's cover is a huge, wrap-around MHA cast illustration and it was published three days after chapter 396 came out, strategically timed to highlight the big shift in the final battle as Ochako vs Toga ends and All Might vs. AFO begins. Merch includes a decorative folder of the wrap-around cover and character motif stickers.

And then we get this!?

A duo cover illustration where the cover art itself has been merchandised to hell and back!?!?

Acrylic stand and pin set!?

Double-sided coaster showing bkdk greatest hits!? With volume 29's river scene cover!?

There's also a double-sided poster featuring the Spring cover with the ninth popularity poll art and a decorative bag with the anniversary art. The cover art itself is plastered all over the volume, front, back, and spine, apparently a total of 19 times.

I honestly don't know what to say about this. It feels wild that this is actually what the cover is. Obviously it is a huge marketing push in anticipation of season 7, and Izuku and Katsuki are the most popular characters, but. it just feels... unique.

In the course of Jump GIGA's publication, this direction is kind of unprecedented. Genuinely no one could have expected this. This seems to be the first time there's been this much merch for a cover. And it was a solid fucking move, marketing-wise--it's sold out basically everywhere, everyone is talking about it. And even people who don't follow the series or ship these two can't help but comment on how strikingly romantic it looks!?

I don't know how much say Horikoshi had in what the cover was, but damn it sure feels like he drew this with immense affection. I kind of wonder if he personally pushed for it to be these two, rather than the typical solo shot, cast shot, or even a protagonist vs. antagonist shot.

I'm KO'd, man. idek if this post is useful to anybody I'm just on my hands and knees here.

Everybody knows what we're all here for, and it's these cute boys finally getting their happy ending.

#bkdk #i'm losing it #idek how to go on #they're so beautiful #I was trying to be all thoughtful and intellectual about what kind of marketing game GIGA plays in SJ's arsenal of branding #but #this is just such a divergence from their typical approach #why are there basically no other duo covers #did the other mangaka just not particularly push for it #did other duos just not serve as attention-grabbing enough #there's nothing else like it #what am I supposed to do with this knowledge

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anim-ttrpgs · 1 month

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Wait does Eureka have its own established lore for how different supernatural creatures work?

Yes, it does!

(I’m going to preface this post by saying that just about everything I’m talking about here, and more, is available FOR FREE for you to read in the free pre-release version of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook that you can download from our website. Go to Chapter 8 to start reading about the supernatural lore. The rulebook itself will do a lot better job of explaining all this than I will, because it has the exact details of how each one works, and I’m just hitting the highlights and going over what those details mean.)

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is a game about very human and believable investigators digging into dangerous (often supernatural) mysteries way over their heads, and sometimes those very human and believable investigators will be supernatural creatures themselves.

These supernatural creatures are every bit as human and “normal” as their mundane investigators counterparts, they have jobs, friends, families, hobbies, etc. They live among mundane society, not outside of it.

Most modern fantasy settings have some kind of separation between normal society and magical society, like you see in Harry Potter where there is normal society, and then a separate, secret magical society hidden away from it, or Vampire: The Masquerade, where vampires all have an agreement to keep themselves a secret from normal society despite acting within it.

In Eureka’s world, there is no “masquerade,” but that doesn’t mean that magic and monsters are well-known and well-documented phenomenons. Supernatural creatures such as vampires, wolfmen, etc. are exceptionally rare. Don’t take this as an exact number, but you can probably assume there’s about one of these per every 3.3 million normal people.

This rarity, as well as the fact that each individual has little to gain and everything to lose by revealing themselves (try “coming out” as a person who regularly assaults people and drains their blood), has led to them going largely undocumented in the modern day. Sure, this is the digital age, there are videos, but viral videos are not exactly scientific evidence. For every real vampire caught on camera, there are a thousand hoaxes and horror short films.

There is no secret vampire government controlling things from the shadows—most vampires don’t even know any other vampires, let alone enough to form a secret society with any effect on national politics.

As for how they work, well, that’s one of my favorite parts to talk about.

There are five playable monster types in Eureka (The Vampire, The Wolfman, The Fairy, The Witch, and The Thing From Beyond) plus two extras that are Kickstarter stretch goals (The Dullahan and The Gorgon), but in the interest of time, I’m only going to really go into detail with one of them.

Most playable monster types in Eureka are very, very old-school, with an emphasis on actual historical folklore over just making up all our own lore. That doesn’t mean Eureka doesn’t have a unique approach to the supernatural, though. Little of it is “new,” but it is certainly unique, because to my knowledge no other RPG has ever taken the old stuff this far before. A PC being a monster in Eureka isn’t just a few +1s here and there and maybe a little extra damage from silver weapons, it means playing by an entirely different set of rules from fellow investigators.

The vampires and vampire lore you see in movies are not folkloric vampires, they are mostly a 20th and 21st century pop-culture creation. Eureka’s vampire abilities, weaknesses, and other traits are based on pre-1900 vampire legends, with older traits usually taking precedent over newer ones. Thus, a lot of assumptions you might have about vampires going in could end up being very wrong. For instance, in movies, vampires instantly die when exposed to sunlight, but the first ever instance of a vampire in a story being killed by sunlight was in the 1922 film Nosferatu. In Eureka, sunlight is still awful for vampires, it strips them of their vampiric powers, but it doesn’t do any real damage to them. Sunlight is an issue vampires have to deal with, but it is far from instant death. That doesn’t mean being a vampire is inherently easy though, because in addition to having all the powers that folkloric vampires have (which is a TON), they also have all the weaknesses, and it is the emphasis on weaknesses that really makes the moment-to-moment playing of a monster PC in Eureka the most interesting. A few of my favorites for vampires are the refusal to enter homes without a direct invitation, and the compulsion to count large numbers of small objects. I think most vampire media these days considers these to be “silly” weaknesses and don’t want to acknowledge them in the lore of their “serious” scary horror vampires, but honestly I think that the “sillier” vampire stuff can still be used to great effect in horror. Imagine knowing that the only reason a vicious killer at your door hasn’t stormed in to rip your throat out is because they’re being polite.

A vampiric investigator will need to work around these weaknesses, and more, in their daily life, all while being sure not to reveal their true nature to their more mortal friends. It’s something that really changes how a character behaves and goes about problem-solving.

For instance, the rest of the party may be able to break into a house no-problem, but the vampire cannot. They need a invitation. That’s a problem. That’s a puzzle. It makes me excited just thinking about it.

This was originally going to be a much longer post where I went into more of the themes of monsters in Eureka, but I have decided that that would be most cohesive as its own post, an upcoming essay titled "How Eureka Handles Disability." So stay tuned for that.

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is kickstarting from right now until May 10th! Back it while you still can!

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If you want to try before you buy, you can download a free demo of the prerelease version from our website or our itch.io page!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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zepskies · 11 months

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If You Want It To Be - Part 1

Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s one of my entries for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event! ❄️ Hope you enjoy Part 1 of 3. (I will release one chapter per week! Possibly sooner. 😉)

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 3,900 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Bickering, fluff, jealousy, angst, friends to lovers, (eventual) smut.

Part 1: December 23

“I never thought I’d miss my own bed as much as I do right now,” you mutter.

Though your body’s weary, you manage to heft your duffel bag onto your shoulder. Soon enough, you’ll be out of this craptastic motel.

More specifically, away from the cot that nearly broke your back while you weren’t sleeping on it. Who could sleep on a bed of rusty-ass springs?

But while Sam is already loading weapons and his things into the Impala, Dean seems to be taking his sweet time, fiddling with something by the solitary nightstand in between the two queen beds. Your extra cot is laid out in the corner (may it rot in hell).

Dean glances up at you at your remark.

“That’s the first thing we’ve agreed on all week,” he quips. And he smirks when you send him a mock warning look.

“Don’t mess with me right now. Haven’t gotten my beauty sleep in three days.” You have to adjust your duffel on your shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

Dean’s smirk fades the longer he concentrates on trying to put on his watch.

“Trying to…damn it, think this strap is done.”

Sighing, you set down your bag on the bed and sit down next to him on the edge of it. You peer over his shoulder and see that the leather band is indeed broken.

“Aw, that sucks. I can replace it for you if you want, since I’m the one who wrangled you guys out here,” you say with a frown.

You called them for backup when you discovered the coven of witches. If you’ve learned anything about hunting over the years, it just isn’t safe to go after a group of those demon-worshipping assholes without help. And it gave you a reason to get back in touch with Sam and Dean…

If you’re honest, it gave you an excuse to see Dean.

You haven’t seen him in months, but he and Sam came when you called. The three of you managed to take out all four of those bitches, after having to track them down across the plains of Indiana.

At least it only came at the cost of Dean’s watch.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Dean says. He tries to wave you off, but you shake your head stubbornly.

“Really, I mean it,” you say. “I’ll buy you a new one. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and while you love this time of year (and your own bed), part of you isn’t looking forward to going home to an empty apartment.

Dean looks up at you with a rueful smile. “Really, it’s okay. This one was my dad’s.”

At that, your guilt intensifies. “Oh…guess there’s no replacing that. I’m sorry.”

“This’s just what I get for hauling my ass out here, pulling yours out of the fire,” he remarks. Some humor creeps back into his smile. “As usual.”

“Hey, if anything, I saved your ass,” you tease back, even though you still feel guilty. “That he-witch was about to grate you into Swiss cheese.”

And then you shot him between the eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean raises his brows at you. “And when Barbie girl locked you in her cellar, that was what, you taking a nap?”

Your lips purse in response. You enjoyed seeing that platinum blonde bitch go down hard—with an iron chain wrapped around her neck. Dean held her down while Sam finished her off with two shots to the chest.

Trust Dean to try and take credit for the whole thing. You get up to your feet with a roll of your eyes, collecting your bag. You feel his presence burning behind you as you both head out of the motel.

“I would’ve figured it out eventually,” you say.

“Right. Where have I heard that before?” Dean says dryly. He follows you to your car and watches you throw your duffel into the backseat. Maybe he admires the curve of your ass in those jeans for a bit too long while you’re bent over.

But his eyes snap back up to yours when you straighten, turning back to him with a wry look. For years, this is how things have always been between you. Playful, sniping, not entirely flirting, but not quite not either.

Sam then comes around the Impala to give you a friendly hug goodbye.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says with a smile. You return it, giving his plaid-covered chest a light punch.

“You two are the ones with the packed dance cards. I’m lucky I got you guys to even answer my call,” you quip. “I’m down to goddamn smoke signals here.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls you into his arms next. “If we’re screening anyone’s calls, it ain’t you, sweetheart.”

You huff at that, but your smile is more genuine when you hug him back. For a brief moment, you let yourself revel in his warmth, his spicy aftershave, the solid feel of him wrapped around your whole body like a perfect man glove.

It’s so familiar to you, but bittersweet. Because all too soon, you have to let go.

“It was good to see you,” you say, a little softer than you meant to. Dean’s lips quirk at a warmer smile. There’s something in his eyes you can’t name when he releases you.

But with a sigh, you turn and get into your car—an old Ford Focus.

“You’re really still rockin’ that rusted out piece of shit, huh?” Dean asks, watching you with crossed arms as you climb in. The door creaks loudly when you shut yourself in. You flash him a wan smile and lower the window (with the embarrassing hand crank).

“Since 2003. Good old Hubert hasn’t failed me yet,” you reply. And then you turn the ignition.

It splutters, but doesn’t start the car.

What the fuck?

Frowning, you try it again. And again. And again.

Nothing.

The brothers Winchester still stand between your car and the Impala in the parking lot. Sam shares a glance with Dean, who brushes a hand over his mouth as he watches.

Finally, you look up at them with a grimace when your car just dies. Kaput. There’s the sound of pressure releasing, along with your high hopes of making it home tonight.

“Goddamn it, Hubert.”

That’s how you find yourself a guest of Le Bunker a few hours later, after Dean tows your car all the way to Lawrence, Kansas.

“You’re welcome to stay for the holidays,” Sam tells you once the three of you make it inside. He leads the way down the winding staircase. Dean follows behind you.

“That’s right! Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” you reply with a smile.

Your family loves Christmas, but it’s just you this year. Your father is on an extended cruise with his new wife, technically your stepmother. When your dad asked you how you felt about them going on this trip, they seemed so excited about it that you didn’t feel like you could say no.

So between watching Halmark movies by yourself all day and hanging out here with your friends, there’s really no decision to make. You agree to stay.

Sam nods back at you and continues into the bunker. He goes on to greet Castiel and Jack in the living room.

When you reach the ground floor, Dean lays a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to turn around.

“I’ll take a look at your car, see if we can’t get it running in a couple days,” he says.

“By Christmas? That’s a tall order,” you reply with a grin. “Even for Dean Winchester, Un-Certified Mechanic.”

Dean smirks back at you, crossing his arms. “That a challenge, sweetheart?”

You pull out your best Charlie’s Angels narrator voice. “I guess it is. Your mission, should you choose to accept it.”

His gaze is warm with playful scrutiny, from your dirty sneakers to your jeans and black V-neck top, to the messy ponytail keeping your hair together. But you can’t help but blush at the lazy, damn near flirtatious way he does it.

“All right. Challenge accepted,” he says, crossing his arms. “What do I get if I win?”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “My undying respect.”

He just hums and leans against the iron guardrail of the stairs, hands sliding into his pockets.

“Not enough for you?” you ask.

He shrugs, unimpressed, like he can take it or leave it. You step up on one of the stairs and fold your arms on the guardrail, so you can be level with Dean’s eyes.

“Okay. If you manage to miraculously get my car running by Christmas, you get one consequence-free request,” you offer. He raises a brow at that.

“Anything I want?” he asks.

“Within reason,” you amend, though you’re starting to blush. It curves his lips.

“No questions asked?” he hedges.

You think about it for a moment…

“None,” you shake your head. “We got a deal?”

Dean smirks back at you and crosses his arms.

“Deal.”

Maybe the little bet is silly. You know very well Dean can fix your car in two days. Just as you know you need to keep a tighter lid on your feelings…

Now that you’re here in the Bunker, unable to escape him, there’s too much potential for spillage—of things you’ve long kept hidden.

It just never seemed like he was seriously interested. Even if he ever is, you also know very well that Dean’s not the dating type. And you…you just don’t think you can handle being another “hit and run” for him.

Or a “sometimes” girl.

Or even worse, a “when it’s convenient” girl.

If you think too long about it, that would just about rip your heart out.

So you ignore the thought of Dean again for a while. After you shower and change into some pajama pants and a loose top, you pad barefoot into the kitchen. Castiel is there to greet you, staring into a glass of orange juice. You raise a brow at him.

“You okay, Cas?” you ask.

“Pulp or no pulp, that is the question,” he muses.

“Um…pulp?” you reply.

He nods and takes a sip. “Pulp is good. Increased levels of Vitamin C. But I’m thinking no pulp is best. It eliminates the possible choking hazard.”

You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you nod. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You pause in your quest for a snack to look around the bare furnishings of the bunker.

“What the hell’s going on here?” you ask. “It’s literally Christmas Eve. Where’re all the decorations?”

Jack comes in the kitchen, pausing from watching reruns of Judge Judy to join you and Castiel. He doesn’t know you very well, but he’s just as curious about you as you’re curious (and maybe a little wary) about him.

You know Dean hasn’t totally warmed up to the Nephilim, but he seems kind, and you find his honest, natural inquisitiveness endearing.

“I know about Christmas,” he says, smiling like he’s proud of that fact. “It celebrates the day of Jesus’s birth. Even though December 25 itself is not historically accurate, society has made up for that fact by intertwining pagan traditions and overbearing commercialism.”

“A very good way of putting it,” you say after a moment, chuckling. “Well done.”

Jack grins at the praise. Castiel shares an amused smile with you, but his is more fond.

“I don’t believe Sam and Dean are big on celebrating Christmas,” Castiel says, finally answering your question.

You cluck your tongue and level both angelic beings with a determined look.

“Well, that’s just not gonna cut it, guys. If I’m spending Christmas here, we’re doing it right,” you say.

And with a growing smile, “Buckle up. We’re going to Walmart.”

As it turns out, “doing it right” takes pretty much all night. But you’re impressed with how everything came out.

There’s now a large tree in the living room (a real one, bought in the Walmart lot of Christmas trees), decorated with three packs of lights, ornaments, and a nice star on the top, with a lacy red ribbon that overlays down the front.

You worked your hardest on the tree, but you also directed Castiel and Jack with a new tablecloth for the war room table. Red candles in “fancy plastic” gold holders, tinsel and ornaments and several other Christmasy things that now brighten up the entire place with festive wonder.

And all on the cheap. Though your wallet is going to smart a bit, considering you might’ve gone a bit overboard. Not just on decorations, but on some groceries, a few gifts, and maybe a couple of things for yourself…

You just don’t anticipate later falling asleep on the long table in the war room, with a roll of ribbon curled around your hand and tinsel in your hair.

You wake up to a hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. You groan, squinting against the twinkling lights, no matter how pretty they are in all their multi-colored glory.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

“Huh…?”

“You’re drooling on the table. I’m guessing that’s a new tablecloth.”

“Whathefu…” You manage to open your eyes and raise your head, finding Dean smirking down at you. You blink up at him sleepily.

“Aw shit,” you utter.

“That’s one way to greet somebody,” he intones.

You just grin with exasperation, but you accept his help in sitting up with a groan. Every muscle in your body aches in protest from having slept on a slab of hard wood.

His hand doesn’t leave your back until your bare feet are firm on the ground, though you lean on his arm for a minute while you rub sleep out of your eyes.

“Damn, I wanted to see your faces when everything was put up,” you say ruefully. Sam comes in with a smile and two mugs of coffee, one of which he hands to you.

“It’s incredible! How’d you do all this?” he asks. “And thank you. You know you didn’t have to.”

You waved him off. “I wanted to. Plus, I had a little help.”

You raise your mug to Castiel as he walks by with an iPad and a multigrain bar. It’s such a far cry from the angel you had met years ago—socially ignorant of human ways—that you have to smile. He returns it.

“Jack’s still putting the finishing touches on the Christmas village,” Cas says.

“Village?” Dean frowns.

“We had him set it up in his room,” you tell him. “He was fascinated by the train part. And the fake snow. And all the little people…”

“Great, another nerd,” Dean remarks.

“Be nice,” you chide. He shoots you a certain smirk.

“What do you mean? I’m Mr. fucking Nice Guy.”

“More like Scrooge,” you counter.

“All right, Sweeney Todd. Might wanna fix the nest you’ve got going on there,” he retorts, gesturing at the wild state of your hair. You’re still picking out tinsel.

You narrow your gaze at him. “Big talk from the guy wearing fuzzy slippers.”

Dean frowns, glancing down and shuffling his slippered feet. In his defense, the floor is cold.

“All right, I’ll just get started on breakfast then,” Sam says, cutting through the familiar bickering with a resigned grin. After a parting amused look at you, Dean follows him into the kitchen.

“Wait, wait. You don’t know how the hell to make eggs. Let me get in there.”

Rolling your eyes, you share a conspiratorial look with Castiel, who smiles before taking his iPad into the living room. You take the opportunity to shower, brush your damn hair, and fix yourself into an actual human again.

Suddenly inspired to put some effort in, you pick out a dress for once. It’s not the new one you might’ve splurged on for Christmas dinner tomorrow, but it’s a “just in case” dress you always take in your bag…just in case.

It’s a black, comfortable fabric with simple long sleeves and a skirt that drapes above the knee. It’s just casual enough to wear around the bunker. But it can also be dressed up with some heels if you need to. This is not one of those times, thank God.

You even take pains to do your makeup, light on the eyes but popping with a bit of red lipstick that you typically save for going out. Tis the fucking season.

And maybe you want to wipe away that asinine smirk from Dean’s face.

When you return to the kitchen, all four men are sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast, talking, and drinking coffee. That all pauses when they see you.

“Morning, again,” you greet them. And you hum to yourself as you grab another cup of coffee. But you stop in your tracks when you realize they’re all looking at you.

The ones who have tact (Sam and Dean) manage to return to their phone and iPad, respectively. But the angels are a little slow to look away.

“You look different today,” Jack says.

Your lips twitch at a smile. “A good different?”

“Yeah,” he says, though the way he looks at you makes you wonder if he’s sure. You share a glance with Dean, whose face strains with an awkward I don’t know what to tell you smile.

You don’t know it, but Dean’s gaze follows you as you putter about the kitchen. The sight of your smooth and shapely legs are enticing, especially the way the skirt of your dress keeps swishing along your thighs.

Sam clears his throat, catching his brother’s gaze with amusement. Dean’s lips purse at being caught in the act of checking you out, but he swiftly ignores his brother to glance back down at his iPad.

Shaking his head, Sam gets up after he finishes his breakfast and brings his plate to the kitchen sink.

“You going out or something?” he asks you. “There’s some eggs for you in the pan, by the way.”

You nod at that, grabbing yourself a plate from the cupboard. You’re starting to reacquaint yourself with where everything is in the bunker.

“No, but it’s funny how you guys seem to think I live in my hunter gear all the time.” You arch a brow at Sam. “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a woman. Capable of wielding lipstick.”

Sam grins, raising up his hands in surrender. “By all means, wield away. You look nice.”

“Thank you,” you say dramatically. He snorts in response and moves to get around you. But that’s when Jack pipes up.

“Oh, look,” he says, pointing to a spot above you and Sam. “You guys are under the mistletoe.”

Your eyes widen. You glance up at said sprig, which hangs from a long string stapled into the ceiling, then at Sam as a blush starts to warm your face. He looks similarly caught off guard.

“Who put that there?” you ask, cutting your gaze over to Jack in suspicion. His boyish grin is pleased, while Castiel fights a smile of amused embarrassment for you.

Dean is oddly quiet though. His expression hides behind the hand he’s leaning his chin on, while his elbow rests on the table. You meet his eyes for just a moment, before you crane your head up to look back at Sam.

You shrug with a grin and beckon to him with your hands. “All right, come ‘ere.”

Sam’s face is a bit crunched with an awkward smile, but he obliges you by wrapping you up in a friendly embrace.

You take his face with both hands and plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. You feel his prickly stubble against your lips, but you don’t mind.

“Merry Christmas,” you say with a giggle. He chuckles in response and rubs your back warmly.

“Merry Christmas,” he echoes, pressing a hand to your cheek. You’re one of those friends he counts as his family, and he’s truly grateful that you’re here with them for the holidays.

You have similar warm feelings for the gentle giant as you pull out of his embrace. When you glance over at Dean, you don’t know what to expect to find. By the mild grin he’s sporting, he just seems amused by the whole thing.

You inwardly shake your head at yourself, wondering if you should’ve just kissed Sam. Maybe then you’d figure out where you stand with Dean.

And once you know for sure he doesn’t see you in any kind of way, then you can try to actually move on from Dean Winchester.

You’re forced to sit across from him after you heat up your eggs and make some toast. He’s just scrolling through his iPad without a care in the world.

But in reality, you couldn’t know that Dean is fighting not to look at you. Because the truth is, he didn’t like what he just saw…the obvious warmth between you and his brother.

“We need stockings,” Jack notes, before he turns to you. “Wasn’t that on your list?”

“Ooh, you’re right. I think I forgot,” you reply. “To be fair, trolling around Walmart on three days of no sleep is ill-advised at the best of times, let alone at 12:00 a.m. on Christmas Eve.”

Sam chuckles at that. While Dean gives a slight smile, he’s still quieter than usual.

“Want to go grab some at the store?” Jack asks. You rub your chin in thought.

“Well, I wanted to get started on baking some cookies for later.”

“I can take him,” Sam offers. Jack nods along with the idea.

“Okay, great,” you reply.

“Need anything else while we’re out?” Sam asks.

“Hmm, nope! Nothing that I can think of,” you reply. Sam nods, and soon after, he and Jack leave for the store.

You turn to Dean, intending to ask if he’d like to help you in the kitchen. Realistically, you know he’s not going to do much but stand there while you do most of the work, but it’s a chance to hang out, just you and him.

You’ve almost worked up your nerve to ask when Dean gets up from the table with his iPad. He says nothing to you before he starts toward the garage, making you frown.

“Hey, Dean,” you call to him.

He hesitates, turning back to you with an expectant brow. You want to ask him to stay but…ultimately, you lose your nerve.

“Gonna work on my car?” you ask instead. He flashes you a smile that doesn’t completely reach his eyes.

“Un-certified mechanic, at your service,” he dryly quips with a lazy salute.

You quirk a smile as he continues on his way, but somehow, you feel unsettled. You turn to Castiel, and you remember the rest of your plan for today.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yes?” His head raises from his book.

You give him a conspiring smile.

“I have a special mission for you.”

AN: The stage is set, folks! Let me know what you thought of Part 1. 😘

Next Time:

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you again, with a smirk.

“My turn,” he remarks. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he says.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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tripleyeeet · 11 months

Text

FIGURE YOU OUT (1)

SUMMARY: As Spider-Man's older sister it's your responsibility to make sure he comes home no matter the state. It's also your responsibility to question strangers who claim to be versions of him from other dimensions.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 7,793

WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent (if that makes sense???), minor descriptions of injury, heavy alcohol use, mention of vomiting, inappropriate language.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: OKAY SO this was originally supposed to be a hefty one shot but after much consideration I've decided it's going to read best as a series so you're getting not one but three parts! Hopefully y'all like it 'cause this is my first time writing for Miguel and I'm kind of nervous? :')))

CHAPTER LIST / NEXT CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

“May, for the millionth time I’m not—“

Before you can even finish, Aunt May’s hands are on her face, pushing on the frustrated expression that laces through her features. She’s annoyed, as per usual. Exhausted, just like the pale and veiny hands that rest beneath the dimness of your dining room light, pulling at wrinkled skin.

“I just think he’d be good for you, you know? Harry’s nice and attractive and—”

“Norman Osborn’s son?”

“Okay, but it’s not like the boy’s anything like his father.”

“That you’re aware of.”

She opens her mouth, a small huff releasing straight from her chest, knowing already you’ll never budge. You’re too stubborn like your father —like her nephew who so effortlessly had a counter for every argument he wound up tangled in. Like you, he’d fight to the death for every little thing and she knows it, causing her to merely frown.

“Fine, fine but just know you’re missing out. He’s a real catch.”

You scrunch up your face, resisting the urge to gag knowing how much May chastises you for being childish. You’re an adult now, act like it! You practically hear the words echoing through your mind as you reach for the glass of wine in front of you, gripping the stem tightly as you take a huge gulp.

“Okay then, if not Harry, are there any other men?”

You almost cough into your glass, unprepared to answer. Sure there were men. Here and there you’d had some dates and flings and almost, maybe boyfriends. You played the field like any other twenty-something woman in Brooklyn trying for their shot at love by going out to bars or hopping on dating sites. Like everyone else, you scrolled through the endless faces and bios, picking and choosing your fave ones; having moments of is this the one with far too many boys who turned out to be nothing more than just a memory.

So yes and no, you decide, telling May the latter, knowing if you choose the former she’ll get too excited and start asking questions.

“You know you’re not getting any younger, kid.”

“I know.”

You also know that you should be offended. You should be pissed off or annoyed —any sort of negative emotion but all you feel is exhaustion, considering you have this conversation at least once a week. Sometimes twice if you have to drop by May’s or the shelter.

Every time she sees you it’s as if she needs to put this pressure on you. To throw this burden on your shoulders so that she isn’t the only one thinking of it. Because if you’re thinking about it maybe you’ll do something about it, right?

“You should find someone to love —to settle down with.”

You want to. More than she knows. It’s lonely here in New York, living in your busted-up one-bedroom apartment with a brother who’s never around. Day in and day out you’re forced into a space of solitude you never asked for, moving aimlessly from bedroom to subway car to office and back again.

It’s not ideal, especially when you have to watch Peter and his double life. Sure, it’s stressful —a burden sometimes more often than not, but at least it’s exciting. At least there’s substance.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed soon. The lab needs me early for testing,” you lie, smiling tiredly, hoping that May won’t notice.

This time she doesn’t. Or at least, she feels worn down enough not to ask questions. A fact you’re thankful for as she nods her head and kisses your face, saying her usual goodbye before scurrying out the front door with a wave.

When she’s gone you let out a heavy breath, running your fingers through the roots of your hair. You’re not sure how long you can keep living this way. Flowing from place to place like an aimless ghost. It hurts too much knowing all the potentials. All the crazy things waiting for you just outside your door. More than anything you want to experience them —to live them just like Peter.

Secretly, you think you want to be like Peter. To be looked at —adored or hated, it doesn’t matter. Desperately, you want a pair of eyes to look at you as something other than you: a tired lab assistant just trying to survive. You want someone to see you, to know your worth in a way that doesn’t involve Petri dishes or DNA swabs.

You want to feel needed, you decide. Not in a life-changing way per se. More needed in the sense of being someone’s first choice like MJ is for Peter. To have that one person you can rely on and vice versa no matter the circumstance. A ride or die.

The thought makes you groan into the base of your hands as you pull at your roots, the vibrations against your skin making you pull away. It’s only eight and, embarrassingly enough, you’re ready for bed, your body weighing down in the chair you currently reside in. Already your eyes are starting close, their function slowing decreasing by the second as you reach for your glass of wine and down the rest in one gulp.

It’s disgusting but regardless you pour yourself another, already knowing you’ll need it to actually go to bed.

You don’t sleep well when Peter’s out.

Blinking tiredly you pull your phone out of your pocket and shoot him a quick text. Are you good?

You don’t expect an answer but still worry when you don’t get one, causing your body to twitch as you continue to sit, downing glass after glass until the bottle’s empty and your head starts to feel like it’s swimming through molasses.

By then it’s nearing nine. The lights of the city shine brightly through your window as you blink and rub your eyes, taking one last dizzy glance at your phone to see that Peter’s replied.

He’s fine. What’s your address?

Scrunching up your face, you stare at the words in front of you, sounding out each letter so many times that it begins to blur in your mind. He’s fine, you read, knowing for a fact that Peter would never talk about himself in the third person.

He’s not that weird.

Quickly, you disregard your rule of no phone calls in favour of answers, listening to the dial tone for a good minute before the other end crackles to life and a sigh pushes through.

“Pete, what the fuck are you talking about?”

You can feel your older sister instincts kicking in. Every worrying thought pushes itself through your brain right out of your ears to make room for a rage you haven’t felt in forever. Almost instantly it burns you from the inside out, attacking your chest with hot, heavy beats that have you standing from your chair and moving towards the front door in a rush.

As you do, the voice on the other end mumbles something you don’t quite catch, prompting you to yell.

“Excuse me? Who are you? And why do you have my brother’s phone?”

“My name doesn’t matter.”

It’s a man on the other line. An older one that sounds almost as angry as you.

“Listen here, pal, I swear to god if you don’t tell me—“

“Peter’s fine. He’s a little banged up but we’ve got it under control. Just give us your address and—“

“We? Who’s we? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Instead of listening to your demands he just groans again and asks for the address, making you groan right back and give it to him, too overwhelmed to care that some stranger and his friends have decided to take Peter into their mysterious hands.

After that he hangs up the phone without a goodbye, prompting you to respond with an angry growl that has you stomping all over the house in preparation for guests you weren’t prepared for.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” you mumble drunkenly, pacing back and forth through your small living room, unable to sit still knowing that something happened.

Something happened and you weren’t there to help, like usual. A thought that eats you up inside every time this happens because what can you do? You can’t fight crime like he can —you don’t have powers. You can’t heal his wounds —you’re not medically trained. So really, all you can do is offer him company when MJ isn’t around and rotate his ice packs. Make him food here and there but even that’s difficult when you spend most of your days at the lab.

Essentially you’re just another useless civilian who knows too much, leaving you distraught as you sit on the sidelines, praying to whatever god there is that he arrives home safe.

Thankfully tonight they managed to answer you in some capacity. Instead of dead, he’s just badly injured and as annoyed as you are, you’re still thankful for the outcome. Still thankful for the stranger on the phone despite the angered secrecy.

You decide when he gets here you’ll apologize for the yelling. It’s the least you can do considering he and his friends probably have to drag poor Peter’s body out of some alleyway across the city. A difficult feat you’ve done a few times over the last decade or so.

It’s not something you’d ever wish upon anyone. Not even the grumpy stranger over the phone whose gruff voice still rings through your ears as you anxiously move towards the kitchen and open the freezer, checking to see if there are any ice packs readily available. Shuffling through the frozen goods inside, you count four as well as a large bag of frozen vegetables, deciding then that you should probably wait to see the damage before even thinking of running to the pharmacy.

Out of the two of you, you’ve always been the worrier. The one whose mind constantly races at the sign of danger. Peter’s the fight and you’re the flight, and even before he became Spider-Man it had always been that way, which makes the waiting that much harder. The anticipation of what’s to come flooding you in waves of dread that leave you too unsettled to calm down.

Continually you pace throughout the apartment, moving from kitchen to bedroom to living room in an endless loop that has you swirling around in such a stupor you barely hear the window of your bedroom being tapped on.

The sound confuses you at first, knowing that it’s most likely just some bird. Peter would never make them take him up the fire escape but then it gets louder —more frantic. The tapping speed doubles as you stand disorientated in the living room, narrowing your eyes as if that’ll help your ears focus.

You realize quickly that it’s a someone tapping and not a something and immediately you spring into action, rushing to your bedroom window to see a trio of bodies all dawned in spider suits of their own.

It leaves you breathless but still active as you push up the window, breathing out heavy breaths as you watch the smallest of the three —a lithe spider with pink webs stained over white— bound into the room to help pull Peter inside.

“What took you so long?”

It’s the voice from the phone, grumbling from the fire escape. He’s taller than the others —thicker. His suit black and red with an emblem that fills his broad chest with bold lines that drape down the front of his arms.

“Give her a break man, she’s probably scared to death.”

Beside him, another Spider-Man whose suit looks more like Peter’s stands. Both of them grip your brother’s lower half, gently passing them over to the spider in your bedroom, prompting you to rush over to help.

“What the hell happened?”

He’s worse than you’d like to admit. The majority of his mask has been ripped apart. One of his eyes is completely uncovered, blooming with fresh bruises that cause it to swell almost completely shut. On his cheek, he’s got a pretty huge gash along with a few others around his chin and throat.

Immediately, tears begin to form at the corner of your eyes as they all move to lay him on the bed, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

“It doesn’t matter what happened. What matters is he’s safe. Let’s go.”

You turn to stare at him —the one who’s already caused you enough grief to last a lifetime. Angrily, you narrow your eyes, fighting the urge to yell as you watch his friends simultaneously shake their heads.

“Seriously, man?”

“Miguel, you can’t just leave her with this.”

They speak in unison, both of them matching your unimpressed response as you move in closer, pressing a finger to his chest. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me what happened I’ll kick your ass faster than you can say—“

He pinches the bridge of his nose and gives in, something that feels uncharacteristic even though you’ve just met. “He got a little beat up fighting someone he shouldn’t have, alright?”

“Alright?” you scoff, glancing between the three of them. “No, not alright. Not even a little bit. What do you mean he was fighting someone he shouldn’t have?”

“What do you mean what do you mean? Am I not being clear?”

“Not really, no.”

He huffs, loudly. A heavy plume of air pushing through his mask. You can feel it fan your face as you take a small step away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the newfound presence of other spider people.

You were almost certain Peter was the only one.

“Maybe one of us should take the reins on this?” The blue and red one asks, prompting the other to nod, motioning for him to take over despite Miguel’s silent protests.

“Look, we uh, we’re… we’re —how do I even start this? What do you guys usually say?”

Without missing a beat, the shortest one takes off their mask to reveal a young girl with blonde hair. She looks familiar in a way you can’t quite place, her features bold and big and full of life, giving you a weird sense of deja vu. Have you met her before, you wonder, staring at her eyes and cheeks and mouth, picking apart the details until you’ve decided you definitely have. Somewhere.

“Hi, I’m Gwen. This is also Peter and Miguel.”

She motions them to take their masks off but Miguel doesn’t budge. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest as Peter awkwardly peels his away, revealing a face that looks almost identical to your brother’s.

Which obviously sends you into panic mode, seeing the somewhat distorted face of your brother on the body of someone else. It’s older —heavier, maybe. Unlike your Peter, this one’s eyes are filled with exhausted age and crow's feet. His lips are thinner and coated in a thick five o’clock shadow that takes up the lower half of his face. His figure is thicker, holding a bit of a gut but not enough to notice unless you’re staring.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Miguel says, but the two of them continue, moving through the conversation slowly to gauge your response.

“Your brother isn’t the only Spider-Man,” Gwen tells you. “At least in general. In this universe he is but uh, there are lots of others which is where we’re technically from.”

You look at your brother confused, wondering if he’s always known or if this is newfound information for the both of you. If it’s new, you hope he’s okay. That once he’s awake and able to process everything that this doesn’t send him over the edge of sanity.

He’s already hanging by a thread as it is. With family and friends and both of his jobs waiting in the wings at any given moment, the poor guy's constantly overworked. If he isn’t taking pictures for the Daily Bugle he’s studying at school or going on patrol as Spider-Man or laying on the floor in a heap of pain.

He doesn’t need any more stress.

“Listen, I appreciate you bringing him here but I think it’s probably best you guys go, yeah?”

You smile as warmly as you can through the fog of alcohol that has you reeling. Simultaneously, you’re angry and confused —dizzy at the amount of so many new faces. You’re overwhelmed, to say the least, and knowing Peter he’ll end up the same when he wakes up.

“Of course.”

It’s the first time Miguel speaks with any sort of sincerity, his tone dulling down to a quiet calmness that sends a chill up your spine as you watch him fiddle with a watch-like mechanism on his wrist.

In unison, both Gwen and Peter look at you with sombre expressions, their lips pushing into thin lines of almost disapproval as they watch you move towards your brother, completely forgetting that they’re even there.

“Tell him if he sees anything suspicious to reach out,” Miguel adds, looking directly at you as he says it.

Cautiously, you look back and nod your head, trying to imagine the face underneath. You bet it’s old, based on the never-ending rage that it seems to radiate. He’s got the kind of attitude an old man would have, making you imagine bushy brows and forehead lines that have developed through continuous frowns. You imagine deep scars that have sat untreated for far too long. An overlay of bruises constantly decorating his frame due to misuse of the body.

Standing next to your Peter, you imagine he’s the kind of guy who acts before he thinks. At the sign of danger, he spontaneously leaps to remedy any given situation regardless of details. He’ll do whatever it takes.

He’s a fighter just like Peter.

“It was nice to meet you,” Gwen waves before throwing on her mask. Old Peter does the same and even though you want to smile —to thank them for everything they’ve done, all you can do is nod and watch as Miguel presses the face of his watch, prompting an angular, orange portal to appear right in front of your window.

The sudden presence of it somehow stirs Peter awake, prompting him to groan next to you.

Immediately you move to his aid, kneeling near his face with concern as you press the back of your hand to his partially exposed forehead, feeling the beads of sweat that collect rubbing against your skin.

“Are you okay?”

He mumbles under his breath and moves to sit upright despite your protests. Slowly, he catches himself on the edge of the bed and swings his legs to the floor, doubling over in pain to watch as the three of them turn to face him one last time.

“You good, kid?” Old Peter asks.

“Never better,” he says back, moving to grip his stomach with his forearm, a bloodstained smile spilling across his face.

Despite the pain that’ll inevitably heal in the days to come, you know he’s being honest. Thanks to them, he’s never been better and upon hearing that you find yourself frowning, already knowing what that means.

He wants to see them again. You imagine it’s because, in some capacity or another their appearance has made the burden of his existence easier. For once, their arrival has created a light inside him you’ve only seen one other time. It was when he finally told MJ that he was Spider-Man.

As cliche as it was, he described it as this weight that had been lifted off his shoulders, and as you watch him smile at his new friends, you know that’s exactly how he feels now knowing that he isn’t the only one going through the motions. No longer is he the only one forced to navigate this life full of tangled webs. No, now he has friends. Partners that can aid him in the development of his career as Spider-Man.

People that can help him better than you can.

Before they leave Miguel repeats the statement he asked you to relay to Peter. “Call if you see anymore anomalies.” It’s phrased differently. Molded in a way you’re not meant to understand, making you all the more angry as you watch them leave through the portal.

“What does he mean by anomalies?”

Peter, now without his fellow spiders, winces as he takes off what’s left of his mask, ignoring your question in favour of repositioning himself back on the bed. Shakily, he sighs as he readjusts, trying his best not to disturb the injuries that cover his aching skin.

“Can you at least tell me what happened?”

He’s silent for a moment, his mouth half open, unable to fully close thanks to the shiner located on the lower half of his cheek. Then, he cranes his neck towards you. “Some Doc Ock from another universe showed up,” he tells you, his voice low. “I was in the middle of dealing with a robbery when he showed up out of nowhere and caught me off guard.”

You swallow hard, watching him lick his lips. They’re dry and cracked and covered in old blood that makes you want to cry because you hate seeing him like this. So tired and broken.

“He didn’t look like our Doc. He was skinnier —younger. And his tech was completely different. He kept talking about me, or I guess his version of me and I was so confused.”

“Mhm.”

“He got me a couple times. Threw me around but then they showed up and I guess sent him back home. I don’t know, by then I’d blacked out.”

His story is easy enough to follow but still leaves you with questions. How did this Doc Ock jump into your universe? Did he have one of those bracelets? Did Peter have one? And if so, has he too gone to different universes?

The urge to bombard him with every single thought that races through your mind settles as you hear his strained breath, reminding you he’s in pain. Quickly, it resets the order of important tasks in your brain, sending you flying towards the kitchen to grab every ice pack you own and start stacking them along Peter’s wounds.

Carefully you place one along the huge gash on his face, moving his hand to hold it steady before moving to his chest and placing one on either side of his ribs.

“Are you okay? Like actually, no lying.”

“Yeah, are you?”

You’re not. Not in the slightest. In fact, if it weren’t for the state he was in you’d be screaming by now, demanding more answers. Something he knows by the way you curtly nod your head instead of speaking.

“I’m sorry, Miguel can be a lot.”

Like always, it’s as if he’s read your mind, making you roll your eyes and scoff. “Are you friends with that guy?”

“Not really. I’m only really friends with Peter and Gwen. Everyone else are kind of like coworkers. They’re nice and we get along but aside from work we don’t keep much contact.”

“Aside from like, anomaly stuff?”

“Yeah.”

It’s weird to uncover such a big secret from your own brother. He’s never been the type to keep things to himself, at least with you. So why this? Why them?

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, but make it quick I’m about to fall asleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about them?”

If it weren’t for the pain radiating through his shoulder you’re almost certain Peter would’ve responded with a shrug. A wordless movement of uncertainty that he instead replaces with a soft I don’t know that has you imagining Miguel and his idiotic mask telling him to keep his mouth shut.

“Was it Miguel?”

It’s an uncomfortable statement to say out loud —an even more uncomfortable one to have confirmed as you watch Peter nod his head, a guilty expression plastered over his face. It makes you feel almost guilty yourself as you try your best not to explode at the thought of some asshole telling your brother what to do. At the thought of him controlling what he can and cannot tell you about his life.

You wonder if it’s illegal for regular people like you to universe hop. It probably is but that doesn’t stop you from imagining a world where it isn’t anyway. A world where you rush through a portal of your own to find Miguel on the other side.

You’d give him a piece of your mind if you could, scold him for ever thinking he could keep such a broad existence a secret. You’d push that stupidly broad chest with all your force and tell him what’s what. That no matter how important he is amongst the spiders, you’re still Spider-Man’s sister and deserve the right to know what’s going on.

“He’s not all bad, you know.”

Giving him an unimpressed look, you watch as he smiles, a small laugh pushing through his lips.

“No, I’m serious. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges but he means well.”

“How so?”

You’re unconvinced but still curious. Who wouldn’t be after discovering the existence of other universes?

“He cares about people in his own way. Kind of like you.”

“Me?”

Should you be offended?

“What I mean is, he’s only mean because he cares like you. You guys have that same intensity.”

You scrunch up your face. “I’m not intense.”

Peter snorts as he rolls onto his side, hugging one of the ice packs as he moves to direct his back towards you, thus signalling the end of the conversation.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, sis.”

Peter isn’t answering your texts and it’s starting to stress you out.

Across from you, Harry and Gwen sit chatting amongst themselves, sipping on what’s most likely their fourth or fifth drinks based on the way they’re leaning in and giggling as you call your brother for the ninth time.

It’s been nearly a month since the incident —two weeks since he started patrolling again— and despite knowing he never answers his phone, you’re still worried. He told you he’d be here an hour ago to escort you home. Something he always did when you got dragged out by the rest of the Oscorp staff. Being a woman, wandering the streets of New York at night wasn’t an option and even though you were technically a geneticist for a mega-corporation you weren’t about to cough up at least fifty bucks to get home, so Peter was agreed to be the next best thing.

Or at least, he was supposed to be.

By now you’re well past drunk. Your head is heavy and you can’t stop squirming in your chair because of how restless you feel. Your skin is hot under the fluorescents of the bar lights, their weird shade of neon pink beating down on you like a synthetic sun.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” you hear Harry say.

You must’ve zoned out because both he and Gwen are already standing, grabbing their coats off the back of their chairs with grins too big to be deemed anything other than mischievous.

You know immediately they’re going back to his place to fuck. It’s what always happens when Gwen drinks too much and decides that, just this once, she’ll indulge the boss's son. Unfortunately, though, this is probably the fifth time in the last year that this has happened, leaving you certain it’s more of a common occurrence than she lets on.

“Is Pete still coming to get you?” Gwen asks.

You nod your head, unwilling to admit that he probably isn’t. That instead of flying through the air you’ll most likely be forking over way too much money to sit in some dingy car that smells like piss.

“Okay, text me tomorrow. Let’s go for brunch!”

The two of them leave hand-in-hand, a detail that doesn’t go unnoticed as you continue to stare, trying to decide how the hell all of that started. It’s not like they’re friendly to each other. At work, Gwen is constantly complaining about Harry’s silver-spoon upbringing. Talking about how privileged he is despite her dad being the police commissioner.

A detail you’re always tempted to bring up, knowing that neither of them has ever truly known what it's like to struggle. Having grown up in big houses with paid tuitions and a never-ending family to love, their lives are completely separate from yours.

It’s why you resent them so much, you think, because growing up, you and Peter never had that. When you were young your parents abandoned you with May and Ben, falling off the face of the earth soon after. Back then you always wondered why but now you know it’s because they weren’t ready. They were young and in love and despite thinking they wanted to extend that love into children, it became quickly obvious they’d made a mistake. A mistake May offered to fix.

You liked May but she wasn’t your mom. Same with Ben. As time went on, you let them think they were your real parents, listening to them when they gave you advice; following their rules so long as you lived under their roof. You didn’t call them mom or dad but you respected them as if you did. At least up until Ben died and Peter got powers and everything got sort of complicated after that.

And since then, it continued to be complicated. Each year that passed, something new and strange always happened, leaving you there to try and pick up the pieces.

Most of it always involved Peter. Peter becoming Spider-Man; Peter nearly dying to Doc Ock; Peter nearly dying to Vulture; Peter nearly getting infected by Venom. It was like clockwork year after year, tending to the needs of your brother while trying to live a normal life.

You couldn’t imagine how he felt. Sure, things were hard for you but for him? God, it must be hell.

Which is why you feel so guilty for phoning him. He’s probably busy dealing with some more important shit like stopping murders or break-ins or maybe even more anomalies.

You really hope he’s not dealing with the last one. Because if he is it means Miguel’s in town.

God, you hate that guy.

After the incident, Peter updated you on pretty much the whole anomaly thing. Apparently, in another dimension, there was this headquarters where spider people from all over the universe came to report various issues with their home worlds.

Overall, the details were a bit confusing —you remember Peter saying something about them being a secret society and that Miguel was their leader but not much else stuck because honestly after that you sort of zoned out. At least until he mentioned that he was officially a part of it all, earning himself his own little watch.

Upon hearing that, a part of you was proud. A much bigger part though, was skeptical, considering your immediate distrust of Miguel. In that one meeting alone he was rude and weird and you didn’t want Peter hanging out with him.

Not that you had any say, because Peter does what Pete does and that’s fine even though he can be a little bit too trusting —the kind of guy that always sees the good in people. Opposite to you, his trust is extended to whoever, whenever which you know is what ultimately makes him a good Spider-Man. People see that and immediately think of safety —of security in a situation that otherwise isn’t.

As a true New Yorker, you trust no one. Not even the guy that steals the seat across from you with a smile.

“You here alone?”

Your phone is still pressed to your ear as you stare him down, the line continuously ringing over and over and over again until it goes to voicemail and you lazily repeat the process. As you do, you continue to pay little mind to the man in front of you, merely watching him glance around the building, a glass of beer tucked tightly in his hand.

“You calling your boyfriend?”

“Nope”

“Girlfriend?”

You shake your head and he grins in the way that hyenas do when they’ve found fresh meat. Under the bar lights, his teeth look malicious and jagged, taunting you in a way that makes you internally nervous but externally confident.

On the outside, you do your best impression of someone brave. Someone like Peter or even Miguel. Your forehead scrunches to form unimpressed lines, your eyes narrowing to match the way your lips tightly push together.

Across from you, the man continues to grin despite this, looking you up and down and up again with a fire so fully lit inside his eyes you can already feel the oncoming burn.

You hang up and decide to call May. It’s a last resort, knowing that once that phone rings even once you’re in for an earful. You shouldn’t be out so late, kid, you know better!

Even though you’re in your mid-twenties May still chastises you about the dangers of the city. Working with those less fortunate, you assume it’s because she’s seen some shit. The city’s a fucked up place as you know from both her and Peter but it’s not like you’re unprepared to handle it. You always have a plan! A getaway or an escape route. It’s not your fault that tonight’s plan accidentally fell through.

As you go through your contacts to click on May’s number another body takes the seat next to you.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

The voice sounds nicer than you remember, almost pleasant despite who it’s attached to. Awkwardly, you lock your phone and turn to look, noticing the unfamiliar features of a man you’ve grown to hate.

Damn it, he’s attractive. And not nearly as old as you imagined him. He’s probably mid-thirties tops, you guess, surveying the texture of his tanned skin. It’s nice. Not as aged as Old Peter’s but you can see some of the same lines around his eyes as he glances between you and the man across.

“Can I help you?”

Miguel’s expression says it all. Fuck off. You can see it in the way his dark brows pinch towards the top of his long nose, showcasing his anger. The kind that’s almost impossible to replicate, the man quickly discovers, prompting him to merely sigh and leave the table, admitting defeat.

Once he’s gone you let out a heavy breath and sink in your seat. Never in your life did you think you’d be happy to see Miguel, and yet here you are.

“Thank you.”

Without so much as a glance, he stands from his chair and motions to the exit with his chin. Like usual, he’s got an air of arrogance you can’t quite stand, leaving you annoyed again as you roll your eyes and grab your coat off the back of your seat.

He’s halfway out the door by the time you catch up to him. Your head, still drunk off the many pints of cheap beer you’d downed throughout the night, sloshes through the crowded room until it smacks dab right into Miguel’s back, prompting him to turn with a glare.

“C’mon, let’s get you home,” he says.

Despite wanting to, you don’t protest. Instead, you just follow him out of the building and down the street where he cuts into an abandoned alleyway and stops, checking on you with concerned eyes.

“If I didn’t already know you were also Spider-Man I’d definitely be freaked out right now,” you say, trying your best not to slur as you lean against the wall of one of the buildings. The brick feels cool against your face.

“How much did you drink in there?”

“At least five but probably more?”

“Five what?”

You shrug. There’s a moment of silence after that. One where you can feel your eyes fluttering in and out of focus, watching the way Miguel places his hands on his hips and stares you down.

You can tell that he hates you now, officially. What once was merely a single conversation gone bad has turned to two which means you’re now considered a burden. A problem.

His problem.

“I’m going to assume that travelling by air is a no-go,” he says; sighing because it means he’s probably going to have to walk you home.

Which you’re sure he doesn’t want to do considering he’s in charge of all the spider people. He’s probably got better things to do than to walk home his employee’s sister.

“Where’s Peter?”

You’re on the move again before you know it, walking at Miguel’s side, watching the way he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“He’s out with the others. Another anomaly showed up when you called. He was busy so he asked me to come get you.”

“Why’d he ask you?”

Unfortunately for both of you, your filter is absolutely obliterated. Gone with the drinks you’d downed throughout the night. Every aspect of the embarrassment you’d usually feel right now is gone, your innermost thoughts quickly bubbling to the surface like the head of your last beer.

Miguel, realizing this, shrugs it off and continues walking. Every so often he has to stop to make sure you’re alright —you are most of the time, but every third or fourth time you begin to slow he watches as you double over knowing that you’re probably going to throw up.

“You good?”

Slowly you crawl to the ground until you’re on all fours, your hands gripping the edge of the sidewalk despite knowing how dirty it is. Beneath your palms and it’s cold and damp from the rain, prompting you to gag even harder because that means there’s probably mud on your hands. Dirty, gross mud from the bottom of people’s shoes.

You feel a hand on your back. Carefully, it rubs a line back and forth along your spine, causing you to inhale and exhale and focus on the sudden calmness of his voice.

“You’ll probably feel better if you just let it out.”

“Mhm.”

“I know it’s gross but I promise it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

As if he’s blessed you with the promise of no judgement, you vomit on the ground, feeling your throat burn with the familiar acidity. As you recover, he continues to rub your back in long, slow movements, making you thankful that at this moment he doesn’t hate you.

Or at least, he chooses not to show it.

“Thank you, again,” you mumble.

This time he at least nods, acknowledging your words as he helps pull you to your feet, giving you one final pat on the back before you continue to walk in silence.

Miguel insists on staying until Peter’s back, despite your protests.

His face, heavy with exhaustion looks at you, unwilling to budge on the matter as he pushes himself through the door. “Peter told me to take care of you,” he tells you. “So I’m gonna do that, okay? End of story.”

Now that you’re somewhat sober from the long walk home, you can feel all the hatred you have for him flowing through your system. Sure, he may have walked you home —comforted you in a difficult time but he’s still a dick. Under that sympathetic Spider-Man act he’s still the man that makes you want to scream every time Peter mentions him.

“Fine, but the second you hear anything from Peter you have to tell me.” You wag your finger at him intensely as you wander to the kitchen, feeling your mouth begin to dry up from the amount of water you’ve managed to avoid all night.

“Fine!”

He sits on the couch without another word, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Underneath, his watch emits a warm toned glow, prompting you to look over as he presses the face revealing a small hologram lady.

“Wow, so nice of you to finally drop by! What’d you do, take her out for more drinks?”

Miguel groans and leans back into the couch, his body practically melding into the cushions. “Is there any news about the anomaly?”

The woman crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a look —one you can’t quite place as she pulls the pink-heart glasses down the bridge of her nose. “I’ll tell you but only if you tell me how your night went.”

Her voice is full of mischief, causing Miguel’s head to practically smack into the back of your couch, his eyes finding refuge in the ceiling. He’s embarrassed, you realize then. Probably because instead of being the superhero like everyone else he was demoted to babysitter.

“The night was fine. She threw up, we walked home, end of story. Update, please.”

“We walked home, huh?” She wiggles her brows and darts around, the light from the watch moving around to get what you assume is a better look at your apartment. “Is she there?”

Even though his head is still hung uncomfortably over the edge of the couch, Miguel still manages to threaten you with his eyes. A warning you reluctantly accept as you move further into the kitchen, making sure you’re out of view.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Ooh, and did you tuck her—“

“Lyla, can I please just get an update?”

You’ve never heard him so defeated. So tired. It’s like all the fire inside of him has suddenly burnt out and all that’s left is the remnants of ash. His eyes are almost closing without warning, threatening to cut him off from the outside world as Lyla tells him about someone named Hobie and how he’s with your brother.

Apparently, they’re on Earth-58163. Another universe you know nothing about and probably never will because Peter refuses to talk about it. He always tells you it’s too complicated to explain —too intricate. “If I tried, it’d probably break your brain,” he tells you, brushing off the conversation time and time again.

It’s annoying in a way that makes you feel like you’re kids again, the child-like jealousy overthrowing your desire to be a good person and just drop it. You need to know more. To understand how this all works so that you’re not just some outsider looking in like usual.

When you hear Miguel say goodbye to Lyla you practically sprint over to the couch and plop down beside him, deciding that if Peter won’t tell you, you’ll go right to the source.

“What’s your universe like?”

There’s still a buzz sitting at the back of your brain, egging you on to set aside your differences in favour of answers.

“That’s classified.”

“Classified? Are you serious?”

“Yes, that’s why I said it?”

He doesn’t understand that you’re making fun of him. Or, at least, if he does, he refuses to comment.

“Peter never tells me anything about you guys.” You sink into the couch like Miguel, your arms resting limply on either side of you. “It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, niña.”

You scrunch up your face. “I’m not a kid, old man.”

“Are you under the age of thirty?” He raises his brow.

“Yes.”

“Niña.”

There’s a moment where you think about reaching over and smacking him in the face. Just a small, lightly placed tap, similar to the one you give Peter when he’s being annoying, but immediately you retract such thoughts knowing he’d probably just yell at you.

“Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean I’m a kid.”

“No but it means other things.”

“Like?”

His head turns to face you, his cheek half pushed into the backing of the couch. “That you’re inexperienced.”

“I’ll have you know I’m actually very experienced.”

“That’s what someone inexperienced would say.”

“Says the guy who runs a secret society of spider people and still manages to get benched for the night.”

You expect him to yell at you then. To suddenly uproot himself from the couch and give you the kind of lecture May would but instead he just snorts and shakes his head, moving to rest the back of his head on the couch again.

It confuses you if you’re honest. You don’t know Miguel in the slightest, but based on what you’ve heard you assume he’s the kind of guy who harbours a high temper and an unrealistic demand of respect. A boss in every aspect of his life. Because of this, you assume he can’t take a joke. That he doesn’t understand the concept of teasing or banter because his ego takes it too seriously.

It throws you a bit, your mind suddenly questioning all your previous opinions. You suppose then it isn’t fair to judge him so harshly. Considering the job title, he’s probably under a lot of stress. With such a high volume of people looking to him for guidance, it’s more than likely Peter’s right. He’s not that bad.

“Okay, well, if you won’t tell me about your universe because you think I’m inexperienced will you tell me about you?”

He’s silent. Or at least dormant, his breath steadily flowing as he slides further and further into the couch. You can tell then that his body is hanging by a thread of consciousness, subtly stirring in pace with his breathing. Slowly, his chest rises and falls, pushing his elbows in tandem as his mouth begins to fall open, making you yawn.

It’s probably best you go to bed too, you decide, considering the only reason you’re still awake is to get information. If your informant is out cold there’s no sense in prolonging the inevitable, so instead of delaying you quietly stand and stretch your back. Loudly, it cracks, creaking with an age you’re certain now that Miguel would chastise you for. “You’re too young to be creaking like that,” he’d probably say.

Another yawn filters through as you wander over to your bedroom and grab an extra blanket, throwing it over your shoulders like a shawl as you walk back to Miguel.

“What are you doing?”

His voice scares the shit out of you, making you jump and embarrassingly let out a shocked squeal, your heart pounding violently in your chest.

He’s still frozen in place but this time his eyes are half-opened, looking at you with interest.

“Getting you a blanket.”

“I don’t need a blanket.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t know that? I’m not a mindreader.”

“Why not?”

He may not be Peter Parker in his universe but he certainly retains the same sarcasm, leaving you annoyed as you tear the blanket off and toss it onto his head.

“Goodnight, old man.”

“Goodnight, niña.”

TAGGING: @fandxmslxt69 (if you'd like to be added fill out this form)

#miguel o'hara fan fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara series #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst #summer writes

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duplicityvn · 2 months

Text

Welcome to Duplicity!

Below you’ll find links to tags and the new itch page (once part 1 releases; tags will be added as they’re posted). You’ll also find some general information about the game and what to expect from here on.

As per usual, this game is a horror romance. It will feature and optional NSFW toggle, and it is not safe for minors. Minors DNI with this blog or the game.

Game development, art, & writing: me, @indycinders

Draft editing and Ideas Chief: @winndycakes

Game Summary:

It’s been several years since you’ve been home, and a lot has changed. After failing to meet the strict deadlines of your former publishing house, your contract was terminated and you were left to fend for yourself. Once a prolific and popular author of romance and adventure stories, you’re now forced to move back home to live in your best friend’s apartment as their roommate. Struggling to figure out the next book in your series, you’re faced with many life-changing events, such as having to go back to work a customer service job you thought you’d left behind.

As you navigate this new chapter in your life, you’ll meet friends, old and new, and perhaps finally experience your own romantic tale… Just don’t trust everyone you meet.

(potential) Tag List:

#duplicityvn - general tag to encompass everything

#duplicitydevlogs - tag for dev-specific posts like progress and updates

#duplicity asks - tag for asks submitted to the blog

#duplicity griffin - Griffin specific tag

#duplicity tris - Tris specific tag

#duplicity taipan - Taipan specific tag

#duplicity dell - Dell specific tag

#duplicity nina - Nina specific tag

#duplicity savoy - Savoy specific tag

#duplicity riley - Riley specific tag

#duplicity melon - Melon specific tag

#duplicity mags - Mags specific tag

#duplicity all - general tag when everyone is involved in one post

#duplicity lore - tag for lore related to characters or settings

Here’s some potential questions I might get that I’m proactively answering now:

Why was the old blog deleted?

-I had a bad experience in the community and wanted to remove myself from it completely. I also had no idea where the game direction was going. Honestly, it started out with me wanting to make a yandere game with no understanding of what was going to happen really.

Why are you continuing with Duplicity?

-Duplicity originally stemmed from vague ideas about a horror romance I had started writing three years ago. Really, only some of the character names were similar. Once I started to feel like I wanted to come back and resume with development, I knew it needed a complete overhaul. So I went back to that old story and started piecing it together so it would work for a visual novel!

What changed and what can we expect?

-In the original demo, the game’s MC was around 20 years old. This has changed to player preference of anywhere between 25-30. Why? Because I’ve been wanting to see older characters in yandere visual novels, and just in VNs in general. I also don’t feel comfortable writing younger characters anymore. The characters’ ages will change depending on yours as well, which will be explained later. The only characters who have set ages are Mags and Melon.

-Speaking of characters, Sophie is no longer part of the story. I didn’t think about it at the time but I don’t want a minor to be included in this story when she’s not directly related to anyone, like a sister or a niece or something. In her place are several new characters: Nina, Savoy, and Melon.

-The game will be released in 3 parts instead of on a day-to-day basis. Part one will be mostly introductory but lengthy, part two will probably be the longest, and part three will mostly be focused on the endings of each route.

-The game will have more than just Griffin’s route. There are currently 9 endings I’m in the process of planning.

-As of the publishing of this post, everything previously known to the game is no longer canon, except for a few things.

What kind of asks can we send?

-Asks pertaining to the game and its characters and settings are all completely fine. In fact, it’ll probably help me develop the characters even better.

-NSFW asks are allowed! While there might not be NSFW in the base game (still juggling around the idea of a paid NSFW version), I am happy to write little fics if people are wanting them. I love writing, give me prompts!

-Hateful, derogatory, or other such topics that are sent to this blog will not be tolerated nor published. I wish to promote a safe space for everyone, and I won’t pay attention to any negativity.

-Silly and nonsensical asks are also allowed if they aren’t negative in context.

Alright this was long lmao but I hope it encompasses the general idea of what to expect from here on out! I’m not putting myself on a publishing schedule and I will update as frequently or as little as I do. I’m an anxious bean and can only do so much.

#duplicityvn #i hope everyone will like the new version ;3;#visual novels #yandere #male yandere #yandere visual novel #yandere vn #male yandere vn

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thegeyisshowing · 8 months

Text

Oh, baby... Chapter 3

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader

Fluff level 10000000%

Warnings: Warnings: mentions of child abuse, mentions of TTC and pregnancy struggles

Chapter 3: Can a heart be refilled?

You and Larissa had decided to stop “Trying” per say, it was affecting your mental health too much. You had gone on with your lives and raving sex life as Larissa liked to call it. You were enjoying the two of you learning all the new things about each other's bodies. It was a bittersweet couple of months for you. Every now and then, you would look in the mirror and wonder what your belly would look like. Would you have a tiny basketball under your clothes? Or maybe carry so far out in front that you couldn’t tie your shoes at six months? You didn’t dwell too hard on the thoughts, but it definitely made you curious. One thing though that you didn’t mind was Larissa talking to your empty womb, or as she referred to it “Little future baby”. She only did this after she thought you were completely asleep. You never gave in that you were awake, but it was the only thing giving you hope these days.

It was a normal Tuesday night for you two. You made dinner, and Larissa got home late from the school. It was nearing thanksgiving, and the students were all panicking about their final tests before the holiday break. Larissa was telling you all about the young girl that she had grown to love at the school Amelia. She was raised by her grandparents after her parents were killed in a car accident when she was 6, by the time she turned 10, her grandmother had passed, and her grandfather wasn’t the nicest of men. (Especially to outcasts) Amelia usually stayed on school grounds for break with a few other students and usually a house mom or two. This poor child needed a loving figure in her life, and somehow, that became Larissa.

“My love, she came into my office as quiet as she could today. the second I looked up at her, I saw she was crying and couldn’t stop my feet from getting to her as quickly as possible. Once I reached her, she fell into my arms and dropped her bag. Thankfully, I was close enough to the door to lock it to give her some privacy. I did something I’ve never done with a student.” Larissa sat her fork down and looked up at you with glassy eyes. “I kicked off my heels and sat on the floor next to the fire with her in my lap and just held her while she cried. Darling, she begged me not to send her home for any more breaks… Sh-She confessed that her grandfather beats her, hard and often when she’s home. The broken wrist she had from last summer… He did it.” Larissa was full on sobbing now. It broke you in pieces, and you got up from your spot at the table and pulled her with you to the couch. Dinner be damned, this was more important.

“I texted her teachers from my phone dismissing her from class for the day, and I just held her in my arms and rocked her. She crie-she cried until her voice was hoarse. I’ve never held a student like that, but she was so small and so frail. She is very skinny, skin and bones. She felt like a feather, my love. A damn feather!” You held your wife in your arms and let her release all the feelings she had all day. “Honey…” You started gently, but it had to be said. “You are a mandated reporter. We have to call this one in.” Your wife’s eyes went wide at the fear of losing this young girl to the foster system. “y/n no!… I mean, yes, but I don’t know if she can handle all of that right now.” She dropped her head into her hands and rubbed her now pounding temples. You kissed her cheek and stood up, walking into the restroom and coming back out with a few Tylenol, and grabbed her wine glass from the table. It's not the best combo, but it would have to do in a pinch. “Here my sweet, take these.” She took the pills and thanked you, and the two of you made quick work cleaning up dinner before heading to the bedroom. Rissa was able to change her clothes but was too spent to do much more than that. You pulled her up without a word and had her sit at the vintage vanity in your bathroom.

She let you gently wipe away her makeup from the day and apply her favorite cold cream. You then let her head fall back against you with her eyes closed and gave her a serum face and temple massage. You kissed the top of her head and helped her up leading her to the bed you sat her down and slid the thin chemise off her shoulders ” Lay down on your stomach dear let me take care of you” She did as she was asked and you straddled her, sitting on her thighs slightly. You had already gotten out the mango vanilla massage butter and started to apply it to your wife’s back. You showed your love with each pass of your hands on her, each knot that you gently but firmly worked out. You kneaded and rubbed her bound up traps first, knowing that’s where most of her built-up tension was, and a soft audible moan escaped her lips as she relaxed further. Once you were satisfied with her back and shoulders, you moved onto her thighs, calves, and feet being ever so delicate with them and giving them the release they needed, too.

After about 35 minutes, you were happy with your work and kissed between her shoulders. And softly whispered to your blissed out wife. “I’ll be right back, my love.” You climbed off of her and grabbed three bottles of cool water and a few granola bars before climbing back into your bed. You rubbed Larissas' cheek and spoke softly. “My love, I need you to drink this all down. Ok, baby?” Your wife nodded her head and took the bottle and drained it. “So good, baby. Do you need a snack?” She nodded her head, and you gave her a granola bar to munch on and the other bottle of water for her. “Thank you, darling, for everything.” She said to you, giving you a kiss.

As soon as she finished, you opened your arms for her to come snuggle, and she gratefully did. You turned out the lights, and slowly, you started to drift asleep. When Larissa thought you were asleep, she lowered her hand from your chest and softly started to whisper. “Hello my future love, I’m your mama. I know one day you will listen to my voice and squirm and kick my hand from in there. You are already so loved by your mummy and I. We dream about you, who you’ll be, and where you will go in life. But my sweet little one, just know we are always going to show you love, and you will always have a home in our arms and in our hearts.”

You almost let a single teardrop, but you managed to keep it together barely. These following days are going to be long, and you have some important calls to make tomorrow. It won't be easy, but you know the right people to call to make some big changes. With that last thought, you drifted off into a deep sleep with your wife wrapped around you.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x wife!reader #larissa x y/n #wednesday #gwendolineuniverse #principal weems #gwendoline christie

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rashomonss · 1 year

Text

A HUMANS WRATH

Part II.V

previous part

taglist: @miridiums-writing, @zerchlia, @aeongiies, @xmoogx

(please lmk if you would like to be added, i don’t mind at all)

a/n: i mentioned this before in another blog but these chapters will be released every saturday as of right now, however if anything changes i’ll be sure to let y’all know! again thanks so much for all the love with this story it means the world!

warnings: mentions of lesson 16, angst, a bit of yelling, panic attacks, abusing the power of the packs

Now then let’s travel a bit back in time shall we?

the destruction of memories

It was finally a peaceful night of relaxation where you could enjoy yourself. Not much was done, just a bit of self care and homework, nothing crazy was needed when indulging yourself. Your whole day had been spent avoiding the demons you were forced to live with.

Per usual they would constantly try and ask about you and your day, but honestly you found no point in giving any of them your time. Finally annoyed you realized that you needed to get out of the house so you were scheduled to meet with the angels and Solomon tomorrow afternoon for a picnic.

You had honestly despised life in the Devildom. It was exasperating to constantly have to give your time and effort to a program you wanted no part in. Well in a sense your first couple of months were great, but after the incident you’d rather not be here. Because who in their right mind would want to stay under the same roof as a murder.

Picking up the current book you had borrowed from the library; you continued where you had left off. It was an interesting story to say the least. The main focus was on a character traveling to an alternate timeline where things played out differently than they remembered. You pondered for a bit on what that would be like only to stop yourself and realize that no matter what happened you’d never want the outcome to change.

The book left a sour taste in your mouth so you decided that was enough for tonight. Getting some extra sleep couldn’t hurt and was probably needed. You were never one to set an alarm since you had gotten used to waking up early everyday for RAD. Fixing your sheets just a tad didn’t make much of a difference when laying in bed. However you were comfortable so in the end it was fine. Interestingly enough that nights sleep was probably the nicest you’ve had in a while.

Well that was until the annoying beeping of an alarm rang through your ears. Confused and honestly upset you sat up trying to find the source of the horrible noise. After a few minutes you finally found your phone under your pillow and turned the alarm off. Since you were now wide awake you made your way to your small bathroom and began to get ready.

However looking at yourself in the mirror had caught you off guard, in a way you looked a bit different. Your eye bags weren’t as dark as usual and your hair looked a tad longer as well as healthier than you realized yesterday. Not to mention your skin had a nice subtle glow to it. Did you always look like this? You pondered as you touched your face.

Shaking your head you looked around at all the products and things that littered your counter. Had your bathroom always been this messy? And these products looked familiar, where had you seen them before?

Walking back into your room you realized the layout was slightly different as well, of course it looked like your room but some new things had to have been added. Walking towards the wall you noticed a new bulletin board hanging where a poster should have been. Upon closer inspection the board was filled with pictures of the demon brothers, the prince and his butler, and the angels and sorcerer.

When were these taken? And why were you in some of them smiling? Inspecting the photos closer your eyes landed on one of you and a certain someone. You both looked to be laying down on a bed; possibly the one in the attic? And he had half of his face snuggled into your neck as you smiled back at him. You had to have taken the picture from the angle you both were looking.

“What the hell.” you had said aloud. Ripping the picture off the bulletin board you held it in your shaking hands. So many emotions filled your mind and you didn’t know how to process most of them so you had turned to your usual outlet for stress. Destroying things.

A loud rip sound was heard as you tore the delicate picture right down the middle. Each picture on the bulletin board followed soon after. Quickly you had ripped all of them off and shredded them to pieces with your hands.

Colorful picture scraps littered the floor around you as you began to feel your chest tighten. A panic attack was coming on and you could feel it. The way it became harder to breathe or even think as the room spun.

These were a common occurrence for your after the incident, and you couldn’t figure out as to why. Could it possibly be from the stress they had caused during your stay here? The constant threats to your life each day made it hard to keep a stable mentally, and after being killed it felt like the dam had broken.

You were only a human after all, you could only take so much. The least they can do is take responsibility for what they had done.

That’s what you believed. However seeing those pictures brought back memories to before the incident, good memories, the ones you tried so hard to keep locked away. But the one with him set you off. How could you even be that stupid? What if you got killed again? He is a demon after all, isn’t that what they do?

Your breathing had picked up as you felt your chest constrict. Hot tears had begun to pool in your eyes due to the lack of oxygen, and your throat ached as a coughing fit was brought on. Falling to the floor you could feel yourself almost dry heaving. Why was this happening now? It was only a picture? You had thought.

The rage you had turned into unnecessary panic, and now back to rage as you began to claw at the carpet. It was all his fault. No matter how much distance you had put between you both or how standoffish you acted he still scared you. That damn demon was to blame for your panic attacks. This was all-

“MC!” a voice called out to you. “What’s goin’ on are ya ok!? Here, come here!”

What? Who is that? The voice sounds familiar but it was hard to see through the tears. Suddenly a pair of arms engulfed you and began to slowly rub your back.

“Just breathe, m’kay” they said resting their head in your shoulder.

“No get off, what the hell-“ you yelled beginning to panic again.

“Mc calm down you’ll only make it worse” The voice said sternly. “Breathe”

Doing as the voice said you slowly but surely tried to regain your breathing, and once it was finally stable you could feel yourself coming down from the adrenaline high. It was exhausting to say to least, however you let yourselves lean into the person holding you.

“there ya go” the voice said caressing your head.

Why did that voice sound so familiar? Looking up the person wiped your eyes with their hand and made a face. “Ya got your human snot all over my jacket, not like I care though” they said laughing.

That brown jacket…it couldn’t be. Finally adjusting your eyes to the light as well as the person in front of you, you realized that it was exactly who you expected.

“How are ya feeling? You ok now? Wanna talk about it?

“Get out”

“Huh?”

“I said get out”

“Mc, are ya sure you’re ok?”

“Mammon I command you to get the hell out of my room! Don’t get near me again!” you yelled at the confused male.

His face looked hurt, more so than usual. Weird? However that didn’t stop him from leaving as soon as you gave the command. He found himself hitting your door, hard. Then he left.

His touch lingered on you, it set your skin on fire, and frankly it made you sick. Running to the bathroom you started the shower and set the water to the hottest setting. Throwing off your clothes you jumped in and lathered yourself in body wash, then began scrubbing yourself till you felt your skin burn.

Once you finally felt clean you changed and packed an overnight bag. You were not going to stay here tonight. No way; the angels would understand, they always did when it came to the brothers, even Solomon was understanding in a sense. They would always let you stay in Purgatory Hall whenever things became too much and today they were way too much.

A sudden knock at your door alerted you. You had waited a second before answering with a stern,“What is it?’

“Mc darling, are you feeling ok? Lucifer sent me to check on you, also Levi said that breakfast is ready whenever you feel better”

That was Asmodeus’ voice, you could tell, after all no one else called you darling. It was a stupid pet name you asked him to drop but no matter what he continued to call you it. “Okay I’ll be out in a minute” you had responded after a second.

“Ok dear, also you should talk to Mammon, he’s sulking and honestly it’s making the whole room depressing” Asmo joked. “I know you didn’t mean it, but still he was just trying to help”

How did Asmo know about your panic attack already? Did Mammon tell all of them? You panicked, what if they thought of you as a joke now? You built their respect towards you through months of harsh treatment and very clear boundaries, but now it would all crumble away because of a mere panic attack.

“Mc..? Sweetheart, are you in there?” Asmo called out after a minute or two. He was actually starting to worry because he had stopped hearing sound from the other side of the door. Mammon had mentioned you had some sort of breakdown this morning and shoved him out of your room in a haste with a few harsh words to follow.

Lucifer came to your defense saying it could have been the building stress you were under so he had sent the fifth eldest to check on you. Completely oblivious to what was going on, Levi demanded Asmo tell you breakfast was ready before Beel decided to accidentally eat your portion. So here he was in front of your room waiting for you to appear in the door frame or even show yourself to him.

You had grabbed the small duffel bag and swung open the door, revealing the demon on the other side. He smiled at you but sadly to his dismay it was not returned.

“You’re in the way, can you move please?” you said obviously annoyed.

Asmo was caught off guard and blinked a few times before registering what you had said. He then moved to the side while looking you over. You had side eyed the demon then walked towards the direction of the foyer. Asmo quietly followed behind you and watched as you quickly turned the corner.

You had finally made your way to the foyer when you began to lose it. “Asmodeus stop following me, it’s making me uncomfortable and for one you should know I don’t like you being so close, so back off”

Asmo jumped at the sudden outburst and all his brothers who happened to be in the foyer turned their attention towards the two of you. Mammon gave a knowing look to Lucifer who in turn sighed.

“Mc I know you’re upset but you shouldn’t lash out at Asmo because of that” Lucifer said stepping forward.

“Oh shut up Lucifer” you said glaring at him.

“Excuse me?” He replied narrowing his eyes at you. The tension had grown thicker in the foyer as all the brothers looked between you and Lucifer.

“Mc-“

“Save it, I’m leaving”

“What? Where are you going?” Beel then spoke up.

“Not like it’s any of your business but to Purgatory Hall, now get out of the way” you said pushing through Lucifer,

“Will you be back for dinner? We were all supposed to go out tonight remember?” Satan then said.

“Yeah! B-but you shouldn’t leave without breakfast, your plate is on the table” Levi said quietly fidgeting with his fingers.

“You look a bit tired did you get enough sleep last night?” Said a voice.

Your head shot around at the sound of the youngest brothers voice. Why was he acting like he cared? As if he could. You scoffed and looked the youngest up and down.

“All of you need to stop acting like you care honestly is bothersome. I have told all of you numerous times to leave me the hell alone what don’t you understand? You demons never listen”

“So instead I’ll force you to. I want all of you get away from me this instant, and don’t show your face or even speak to me unless I allow you. Now leave”

Your words had cut deep but they couldn’t find it in them to say anything due to the command. Each brother was thrown back a bit due to the sheer anger of your words. They felt their mouths shut as they made their way out of the foyer into separate rooms. Each wondering what they did to anger you so.

“Interesting” you had said aloud. Lucifer and Belphegor seemed to obey you, something like that had never happened before. So why now? Not to mention their behavior was also weird, they were more pushy and concerned than usual.

Whenever you told them to stop they would but for some reason they were more persistent than usual today.

You pushed the thought to the back of your mind as you made your way out the door, determined to head to Purgatory Hall. Hopefully a clam presence like everyone there would help ease your mind.

It was only a hope after all.

a/n: so this is a mini chapter, part 3 will still release on Saturday if anyone was wondering!

I had noticed in swap stories like this the other Mc’s pov is never really written or talked about, so I wanted to give y’all the chance to see their pov as they interact with the brothers you all interact with. More small chapters will be released like this when important situations come up. Anyways that’s enough for now, I don’t want to spoil to much lol thanks for reading! <3

Next part

#demon brothers #obey me #obey me angst #obey me belphie #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me levithan #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mc #alternate universe

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yourgaeyisshowing · 8 months

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Oh, baby... Chapter 3

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Wife!reader

Fluff level 10000000%

Warnings: Warnings: mentions of child abuse, mentions of TTC and pregnancy struggles

GIF by carnivorousflowers

Chapter 3: Can a heart be refilled?

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x wife!reader #larissa x y/n #wednesday #gwendolineuniverse #principal weems #gwendoline christie

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heybaetae · 5 months

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gifmaker / cc wrapped 2023!

thanks for tagging me my angel @jkvjimin 💜

i tried really hard not to choose all comp sets, but those take the most effort and therefore are what i'm prouder of than a standard set, but regardless...

here are my top 10 fave creations of the year:

bts chapter 1 insta feed // this was an insanely taxing project and is probably the most work i've ever put into anything, but i was really inspired to do it. it took about a week (one day for each panel) and was repetitive, i literally threw out my back by day 3 from sitting working on it that my body was in SO MUCH PAIN, but i wanted to get everything right and make it make sense which is why i wrote up a detail post breaking it down and explaining every decision that went into this. i still intend to make this a series and do one dedicated to their japanese discography (i actually started on one before i published this but didn't like the concept) and for their solo work, but it doesn't feel like the right time yet as things continue to release. but i look forward to it!

cheesy bts valentine cards // this was purposely corny, but the response was unbelievable! i had fun working on it and was so happy it made people laugh and smile. the tags were a joy to read on this post and it's my fourth most popular gifset ever. thank you!

bts guide to troubled birds // yet another corny idea, but i get a kick out of making silly comps and was inspired to make this. i started with jimin's as an experiment because his poem was the easiest to choose and built the rest of it from there, carefully deciding which poem to apply to each member and recreating them from scratch. i love celebrating their chaos in fun ways, so this was nice!

jungkook's sensitive tear ducts // sometimes i get really random comp ideas and spontaneously start making something with no plan. this was one of those times and it is now my third most popular gifset since making this blog in 2020 lol. ofc i'd never gif him upset about anything serious, so i only chose moments that didn't feel inappropriate to include to keep this set lighthearted and humorous.

long live bts (10th anniversary set) // i always knew i wanted to make something with the lyrics of that song because every word of it reminds me of their story. the 10th anniversary was perfect since it literally says "it was the end of a decade". i wanted the set to just be really simple so i went with a more desaturated look and focused more on choosing a scene from each year that fit the lyric per that gif.

love me again mv // this was my first time bothering to gif a music video in 4k. i usually avoid it bc it slows my computer down and takes a lot longer (i also have to reconvert the youtube download to a different file type to get it to play in my kmplayer, it's a whole process) but i waited a few days after it came out because i originially didn't think i could color it when it premiered so i just didn't gif it. but i gave it a try anyway when i didn't feel so pressured and i really like how crisp they came out.

jungkook's bday set // i didn't have a plan for this when i started, but i searched a lot for inspo and finally found something i felt like i could make something with so i came up with this very barbie-esque rendition for jungkook that i'm still very fond of. i purposely didn't write happy birthday on it anywhere so it could be shared year-round. it's probably my fave set i made all year and everyone seemed to like it too!

jimin's bday set // this was originally just going to include songs from FACE, but i decided it didn't celebrate jimin's work as a whole if i didn't include all his solo songs/endeavors so it turned into a big monster. i like how it came out though!

standing next to you mv // this year i was introduced to HD master files, so instead of rushing to download a new mv from youtube and giffing it fast, i'd wait for a higher quality rip from apple music to show up online. the difference is quite astounding. i made gifs with master files for all three of jk's music videos this year (seven, 3D), but i like how this one turned out the best.

vmin comp // just felt like giffing my two favorite people before they left and needed to channel my sad emotions into something before seeing them seperate for so long. i included moments i've giffed before and ones i've never had the chance to gif. i could have made this post so much longer but forced myself to stop lol. i like the pink and blue colors in it a lot <3 i miss them so much

thank for all your support on my work this year! i have lots of (old) new stuff in my drafts to share in the new year so please keep your love coming x

i'm going to tag @userjiminie @userjungkook97 @btsiu and @cordiallyfuturedwight to do this if they'd like to!

#tag game #cc tag game

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ack4rwoman · 10 months

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𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

: ̗̀➛ word count: 12.4k

: ̗̀➛ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

: ̗̀➛ notes: the new trailer being released scared the ever-living shit out of me. salty that my bbg eren wasn't even shown. not ready for the ending to be animated at ALL.

: ̗̀➛ things were going well for you (can you actually believe it?) this past week. however, that miracle seems to have an expiry date after another encounter with captain levi, in front of all your fellow classmates..

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you'd had good days in the training corps, contrary to popular belief (quite literally popular belief, for marco had once informed you that the cadets had had a conversation about how you probably suffered the worst of the wrath of keith). and today was one of them.

you were over the moon after your frequent training sessions with captain levi. it had been a week since the first one, and although sleep was dragging at your eyes, you had never been happier. you could spend a thousand years doing countless laps just to be in the presence of those dazzling, silver-grey eyes --

"oi, are you even listening to me?" a wretched voice distracted you, pulling you out of your partial slumber.

drowsily and groggily, you blinked several times, your vision having been previously blurred, now moving into focus to form the view of jean's scowl in front of you. you averted your gaze to your right where you found marco staring at you fondly -- you were all in the mess hall, eating breakfast before regular training began.

"i'm still half asleep. excuse me for blocking out your dramatic monologue."

before jean could start on you (you had prepared yourself by sitting upright and narrowing your eyes at him defensively) marco had helpfully intervened, calming the usual tension between you all.

"she does more training than the rest of us now," he had informed jean with a shrug. "give her this one, will you?"

jean looked betrayed.

"you're usually the one taking no sides here, what happened to that, huh?" he demanded, clearly offended. he turned his glare to you once more. "it was you, wasn't it? you probably bribed him under the table or something, you devil --"

"and how do you suggest i do that, huh?" you grinned, wriggling your eyebrows suggestively so that jean's initial point had flown out of the opened double doors and his face had paled notably. much to your amusement, marco had turned a pretty shade of pink as well, the poor boy. you concluded that this was all jean's fault, as per usual.

marco coughed, looking uncomfortable. you laughed, pushing your bowl to the side, a silent gesture for sasha to come and down the rest of your porridge like every morning (it was routine by this point).

"calm down, marco. i'm only interested in one man and it's not you," you revealed. you took note of the way marco was scratching the back of his neck. "it was a joke, buddy."

"that is why you should be siding with me," scoffed jean, after gulping down the rest of his water from his cup. "hope you've learned your lesson, marco."

"'hope you've learned your lesson, marco'," you mimicked, in an unusually deep voice. "do you ever shut up?"

instead of jean throwing his spoon at you, which you could see he was contemplating on doing -- judging from the way he aimed it directly at your forehead -- he frowned, brows furrowing and unclenching his jaw.

"what, got something on my face?"

"yeah, a weird smile," he responded with disgust. "why are you doing that? it's creepy."

"her smile never hurt anyone," marco intervened kindly.

"it's scaring me --"

"shut your mouth you donkey --"

jean choked. "i preferred horse."

"yeah? well donkeys are uglier," you stated without a skip of a beat.

"what?"

"guys.."

"you'd be looking at a mirror if you ever came across one --"

"WHAT?"

you stopped, biting your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at jean's face. now, he looked more like a donkey than ever. marco, despite trying to play peacemaker (once again), covered his smile with his cup, bringing it to his lips as if you weren't sitting right next to him, aware of it all.

"you're not the prettiest flower in the field either, l/n --"

"well let's think about this!" you exclaimed, clapping your hands and then resting your chin on them, elbows standing on the wooden table for grip. you faced marco. "would you rather be a flower or a donkey?"

putting marco on the spot seemed to startle him. he glanced over at jean -- who might just have steam shooting out of his ears soon.

"don't answer that," jean ordered bitterly. "leave marco out of it --"

"alright," you nodded, silently agreeing with him for the sake of marco's comfort. you searched the rest of the table. "connie!"

the bald-headed cadet, who had the end of his spoon in his mouth to play a game with his porridge (flicking it up with the spoon and catching it again), looked up at you, alert.

"would you rather be a flower or a donkey?"

he didn't even try masking his confusion, but he answered nonetheless.

"flower, obviously," he answered, as though it were the most apparent thing in the world. and then he went on a tangent. "i think i'd be a lily. they look sick. and it's probably the only flower i know from the top of my head, now that i think about it --"

"no, you'd be a dandelion," you counterargued calmly.

connie looked intrigued. "why's that?"

"one blow and it's got no petals."

everyone on that table had started laughing. it was only mina who attempted to mask her snickering with a hasty cough, bless her.

"what?" connie questioned over the sniggering (the table next to you was now taking part in the laughter too). "what's so funny?"

"back to my original point," you said, turning back to your main two friends with a smile (jean looked too safe for your liking, joining in on the laughter as if he wasn't the root cause of it). "thank you for calling me a flower, jean!"

he gave you a dirty look. "it's a metaphor."

"well mine isn't a metaphor, but i know i look better than you, that's for sure --"

"not true --"

"that's why you can't pull anyone --"

"rich, coming from the girl who thinks she's married to the strongest man within these walls --"

"what's your point?" you demanded sourly.

"you're delusional," retorted jean, drawing out the letters with more length so it sunk in. "no one would listen to a girl that has quite literally lost it when she says that i can't pull --"

"well let's think about this!" you exclaimed for the second time that morning, smiling all too wide with an air of annoyance.

jean groaned, giving a pointed look to marco for assistance; marco shrugged.

you looked down the table again.

"sasha!" you called out. sasha had been finishing off your bowl of porridge when she heard you say her name. "sasha -- do you think jean's good looking?"

"hey!" snapped jean, kicking your shin under the table.

you shrieked, immediately clutching your knee in pain. with a sharp glare at the culprit from across you, you raised your leg and kicked the bench he was sat on harshly. he nearly laughed, perhaps at how you 'missed', but hadn't gotten the chance to, before he found that the bench had slid from right beneath his bottom, and he had crashed harshly to the floor. everyone else on that bench merely moved the slightest inch, and then laughed at jean.

"you won't.. say something embarrassing after, will you?" sasha asked hesitantly. "like you did to connie?"

"yeah, just so you know, i know what you meant!" connie had intervened heatedly, glaring at you with his eyes narrowed.

you barely regarded him. "pipe down, dandelion."

as he attempted to shout at the rest of the table laughing, you glanced back at sasha, shaking your head.

"connie's on my bad side, he knows that," you informed her, remembering how he had made fun of your attempt at a wink. "you're good."

"phew," sighed sasha, chuckling. "anyway, sorry jean, but you're not that good looking to me."

"whatever, potato girl --"

"cut it out!"

the arguing had continued on the table. marco eventually gave up trying to stop it when sasha and connie had gotten involved, and eventually, even reiner and bertholdt found interest in the debate going on. it was almost a surprise, for the two barely interacted with situations like these.

"i don't think looks matter at all that much," hannah diament added softly. as all heads had turned to her (seated at the very end of the table) she blushed. "i think that you have to get to know the person first --"

"ouch, franz, she basically just said that you're ugly," you muttered out from the corner of your mouth, eyes wandering about the ceiling dramatically.

hannah had begun sputtering out protests. "n-no! i didn't and i -- i wasn't even talking about franz!"

franz, who was sitting across from her, had covered his face with a hand. but from what you could see, his ears were pink. the two were way too close with each other on a daily basis. the whole corps knew that they were an item, yet they still felt the need to deny it all the same.

"you were giving him heart eyes across the table!" connie accused her, placing his head in his hands and then forming a face which must've been a re-enactment of what he had seen. "i saw you!"

the rest of the table agreed, and even after the conversation had ended, hannah had found it necessary to still try and convince a few people that she was most definitely not talking about franz ("i swear, it was just my opinion!").

breakfast had ended not long after, and the cadets were called to stand out on the training field and line up accordingly. you position was situated in between armin and eren and across jean. this was not the usual schedule that the cadets had to follow, however, keith had ushered you all out of the mess hall, declaring that he had an announcement to make.

no one was more curious than you, for keith was not a known enemy to them like he was to you. it was good to know your enemy's next move, their ideals, just any info on them. but nothing had prepared you for what you were going to hear today.

as the rest of the cadets were coming out of the hall, taking their places on the field, you made eye contact with jean, who seemed rather annoyed with you. you honestly did not care, you just needed someone to talk to.

"what do you think he's going to say?" you asked, voice an octave lower than usual.

jean did not respond; he chose to glare at you instead, his eyes glinting in a way that practically screamed at you to shut-the-fuck-up. how very impolite.

fine, you supposed armin would be open to having a conversation with you (you refused to start one with eren, the bastard deserved what he got).

"armin, what do you think he's going to --"

"leave him out of it," snarled jean, who had finally decided to speak to you. "don't drag innocent people into your bullshit."

"bullshit?" you repeated, irate. "it's a harmless question!"

"can you guys stop talking?" the devil's spawn asked from your right. his green eyes flashed angrily, and although his question addressed both you and jean, those same eyes focused solely on you instead, as though jean was no longer in the picture.

"why are you getting involved?" you shot back, doing the complete opposite of what eren had asked of you, voice growing louder with every word.

eren's brows had furrowed to the point where there was a deep crease in between them. "shout louder, why don't you?"

"no, no, no, you idiot," jean spat out, eyes narrowing at eren menacingly. "you think she won't do what you just said?"

"wha--"

"'cause she will."

"i will," you agreed. "what, scared of getting in trouble again?" you were attempting to indirectly refer to the last time you and eren had spoken (or barely spoken, in that case, seeing as you had not said a word to him when you had keith reprimand him).

"no," grumbled eren. "but i've got a bone to pick with you --"

"eren, i don't think we should be arguing here of all places," armin whispered from your left. bless him, he's just like marco, you thought to yourself, amused. "just do it later."

eren wanted to argue -- it seemed like it, at least -- but ultimately let out a breath through his nose in frustration, glaring ahead, his eyes being forced to land on poor mina, who looked confused as to why she was being targeted (the con of having been placed opposite the anger-management-child).

you mouthed 'don't worry about it' to her, which eren had seen from the corner of his eye, and you noticed how the fists placed behind his back had clenched notably. what an angry child.

none of you had to wonder where keith was for too long, for his booming voice had penetrated the still air the moment you had begun looking around for him. you had tried to figure out what the hell he was planning through the tone of his voice, but it proved to be more difficult due to the distance between you and him: he was shouting from somewhere far behind you, walking up and down the lines, saying something that barely touched your interest.

until it did.

"this isn't your usual routine, so things will get confusing!" he had said. barely of any relevance to you, clearly. he continued loudly. "but that is no excuse! i expect each and every one of you maggots to know what you're doing -- DO NOT EMBARRASS ME!"

you repressed the urge to scoff aloud. you're literally an embarrassment to yourself.

"now," he went on, undisturbed by you or anyone else who dared to even breathe properly around him, "in preparation for your graduation approaching in a couple of months, you will be trained on everything you've ever known and more with a particular expert! straighten your backs, scums, you look like worms with that awful posture!"

there was movement in the lines, almost like a ripple in water. you hadn't moved an inch. who the hell was he to tell you that your posture was bad? your back was as straight as the wires shot out of the odm gear.

"you will continue to train as normal, only, through the eyes of captain levi, member of the scout regiment!"

now that moved you.

jean's eyes shot over to you as you visibly turned around, standing on your tip-toes to try and get a good look. the captain was shorter than average, of course, and you weren't excelling in the height department much either, making it more difficult for you to see over the heads of those tall bastards behind you. unlucky for you, it was bertholdt who was placed directly behind you. it's as if..

it's as if keith placed you in that line-up position because he knew.

he knew damn well what he was doing, saying his speech at a faraway distance where you knew captain levi probably was.

that bald homewrecker --

you could actually scream in frustration.

"turn around, you fucking dingbat!" jean hissed, voice low but holding every bit of venom it would carry even if he spoke at his usual volume. "oi! listen to me!"

"leave me alone," you squabbled back, waving a hand at him without actually looking at him. "can you see him though? you're tall, jean, where is --"

"i'm not helping you, knucklehead."

"ugh, you're such a chicken."

so when jean did not help you (and you would never swallow down your pride and ask for eren's help) you turned back around and placed your fists against your back again, disappointed. today, you vowed to yourself: you will see him again, and he'll train you specifically.

"you literally saw him this morning."

"shut your mouth, you donkey."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you saw him.

but he was watching other people. he wasn't watching you, like he should be doing.

is that seriously how it's going to be right now? while you work your butt off with your dear friend marco, he was going to pay attention to other people?

the fake knife in your hand you had disarmed from marco only moments ago was now the centre of your thoughts. if you could just jam it directly into your chest, maybe then he'd pay attention to you, the little shrimp.

"y/n, don't get distracted again," marco told you gently, whilst you threw the knife at him (he caught it easily with one hand). it was his turn, again, to try and stop you from disarming him. "i'm sure he has his reasons."

"you look for the good in anybody," you reminded your friend, bitterly. "there is nothing good about this -- ah!"

marco, the sly devil, used your distracted state to his advantage by jamming the knife forward in an attempt to hit your chest. you bent back into a bridge to dodge, and then flipped yourself backward to straighten yourself up in surprise.

"that was low, marco."

he shrugged, chuckling. "i did what i had to do."

"you're just as bad as him," you told him, as if expecting him to drop down to your feet and kiss them, begging for your forgiveness. "both you and jean."

"i never thought i'd see the day where you put me in the same category as jean," replied marco, smiling that innocent smile.

you raised your brows at him, folding your arms over your chest in disappointment. "neither did i, but people can surprise you."

marco thought for a moment, silent as he gazed at the floor, before surprising you when he looked back up.. not exactly at you, but staring at something behind you, eyes wide.

"what's wrong wi--"

"he's looking!" he alerted you.

you stared at marco, snatching the opportunity to impress captain levi as you straightened up, mouthing a 'what?'. and when marco nodded frantically, you did what you had to do. rapidly, you used your two hands to grab the arm where the knife was held, slid underneath it to pin his arm behind his back as he bent forward in response. you took the time to quickly knee him in the chest, which caused the grip on the knife to fall as he throws it up in the air (presumably for him to catch). you don't let him, releasing him from your grip and kicking him to the ground, hurriedly extending an arm to catch the knife successfully.

you spun on the spot, breath heavy as you eyed the captain..

who wasn't even looking your way.

you glared at the ground, before slowly turning to stare at your friend on the floor, who was gripping onto his side in pain.

"you lied to me?"

"what?" gasped marco, his kind, freckled face now overcome with confusion. "no! he -- he really was looking --"

"don't lie to me!" you snapped, throwing the knife at him and stomping your foot in anger. "i did all of that for nothing."

"traitor," marco had the audacity to say, as he sat upright and reached for the knife.

you shrugged, grinning at him. "i did what i had to do."

marco smiled. "typical."

you and marco continued to train together, occasionally glancing back at the moody captain every few minutes, and you yourself felt as though your husband was starting to rub off on you: no longer were you the bubbly and bright person you were that very morning. now, you were just as grumpy as him, and he was the root cause of your sudden change in mood. in your own mind, you believed that even if you were the same now, you were still made for each other.

less than half of an hour had passed by, and it seemed that keith was now copying you in being aggravated. you grit your teeth together as he shouted for everyone's attention. of course, you thought, eyes narrowed at the bald man making his speech, in order to steal captain levi's heart, you have to become just like his wife. well, you decided, as you listened in, keith was smart for that one, though this was unusual for his game-plan.

you shrugged it off: he could never be you.

"i'm tired of the same old partners!" he called out roughly. "you won't learn if you don't battle with someone different!"

there were murmurs following his comment, but no actual movement. that aggravated him even more.

"well what are you waiting for, you bunch of sloths? SWITCH!"

several people jumped up at his demand, and immediately, all of the pairs began forming one big huddle, people picking different partners obediently. not you, of course. you still wanted to be with marco.

"where the hell do you think you're going?" you snapped at him when you saw him standing up and turning away. "you're my partner."

marco scratched the back of his head, smiling at you. it was a mask, you knew. marco always followed orders to the best of his ability.

"you heard commandant shadis," he said, his voice smooth like water. "he wants us to change partners."

"i still want to be yours!" you remarked, annoyance seeping from your harsh tone.

marco laughed at you. this guy even had a gentle laugh, too. what was not so innocent of him? marco didn't have a single bad bone in his body.

"i want to be your partner too, but we can't, y/n," he told you, gesturing to the movement of people around you. "i'm sure you'll find someone better than me anyway. i've had my ass handed to me multiple times now --"

you tried catching the eyes of people passing by, but it almost seemed as though people were purposefully avoiding you. you rolled your eyes, raising a brow at marco.

"all right, whatever," you said, yielding at last. "i hope someone else beats you up better than me."

marco raised his eyebrows, looking as though that could not be farther from the truth. "you're the best at hand-to-hand, y/n. i doubt that." and then he walked away, finding a new partner, one who you recognised to be milieus zeremski.

you shrugged, turning away. was that the reason why people were avoiding you? it wasn't quite like you to wallow in silence wondering about it. so, naturally, you spoke up, of course.

"hey," you caught mina's arm. she turned to you with a smile, and you hurried to finish off your question. "why's everyone avoiding me?"

mina's eyes widened and you were now swallowed whole by the soft black in her eyes.

"oh," she began, chuckling quietly. "well, it's kind of a good reason, if you ask me. everyone knows you're good at close combat, so no one really wants to bare the brunt of your anger. speaking of, are you all right? i've noticed that you aren't quite as happy as you usually are."

you smiled back at her in an attempt to be polite. mina has never annoyed you, and the two of you usually met up with a couple of other few girls before bed to have a comfortable chat.

"i'm fine, but captain levi is pissing me off," you grumbled.

"i'd ask why, but i'd better find a partner for myself," she responded, looking around. "good luck though!"

and then she walked away, leaving you staring after her, deep in thought. perhaps there was something good out of not having a partner... a plan was forming in your head, and maybe it was obvious, because even as jean walked past you, he made sure to comment on it.

"stop making that thinking face and find a bloody partner!"

he was lucky you were too busy thinking, otherwise you would have marched over to him and given him a black eye to sport for the entire week (and more).

ignoring him, with an even more irate expression on your face, you thought to yourself carefully. if you had no partner, the attention would be on you -- specifically the attention of a certain someone. someone who had been neglecting you lately. the plan was perfect! all you had to do was make sure everyone stayed away from you (not a problem there) and then not only would he have no choice but to pay attention to you, but if you were lucky, you could also manage to be partners with him, captain levi!

part a of the plan was working: people were avoiding you. you waited for a bit, standing in the centre of the huddle, making no movement to search for a partner. it pleased you how, at the same time, this would be defying keith's orders too; a bonus point.

until you heard someone call out to you, the voice distant and far.

"hey, y/n!"

just ignore it, you thought to yourself, the rhythmic beat of your heart speeding up and becoming less in tune with your breathing. it'll go away, it'll go --

"y/n!"

the voice was closer.

"y/n l/n!"

the voice was clearer.

"l/n!"

the voice was masculine.

"i'm talking to you!"

the voice was right behind you.

now you were angry.

you turned around, jaw clenched and brows furrowed deeply, staring up at the culprit. you couldn't believe it. had he still not learned his lesson?

eren jaeger.

you could actually gauge out his eyes in frustration. why wouldn't he just stop being so nosy? stop being so annoying? stop being so bothersome?

"get away from me," you demanded, making a move to walk away.

and the boy.. oh this boy.. he had the nerve to pinch at the sleeve of your jacket to stop you.

the worst possible scenario for your plan, because now it looked as though you were partners. eyes darting to captain levi, your blood boiled when you saw that his attention was elsewhere. slowly but surely, you turned your head to glare daggers at the brunette tugging at your sleeve. you ripped your arm out of his grip and gave him one of the dirtiest looks you could muster.

"don't ever touch me again."

eren did not take this lightly. "you were ignoring me, what did you expect?"

"can you just stay away?" you shouted, indignant. "now's not a good time!"

"i have to ask you something," he continued as if he hadn't heard you.

"go away!" you hollered, almost desperately. "ask me another time, okay? just. go. away."

he followed you like a lost puppy even as you began walking away, hoping to create some distance. you nearly contemplated running.

you stopped walking in annoyance and he nearly bumped into you when you stood your ground. you glared up at him.

"why can't you just listen?" you whispered, voice shaky with spleen. you had now resorted to using hand movements to prove your point. "why do you have to be so nosy? why can't you just bother someone else? WHY?"

eren was persistent despite your anger and your demands. "why did you get me in trouble with the commandant the other day?"

you stared at him in actual disbelief. of all the things he could have asked, it had to be a question as dumb as that? this very question was about to tarnish your plans, and it couldn't have waited? he couldn't have waited for a better time to ask, like you basically promised?

if you were angry before, then lord knows what you were feeling now, because you were seeing red.

"l/n!" keith yelled at you as he drew closer. "who's your partner?"

you took in a deep breath. just in time, you thought to yourself, and then jabbed a finger in eren's chest without even looking at him.

"him," you answered, voice low. "he's my partner."

eren had no time to protest before keith shouted at the two of you to begin the sparring by standing in your starting positions and getting into formation.

and that was how eren found himself on the floor (he put up a good fight, better than most, you must say) with you above him, panting with each punch you gave him.

"why --"

punch.

"-- won't --"

punch.

"-- you --"

punch.

"-- learn --"

punch.

"-- your --"

punch.

"-- lesson?"

when you paused to catch you breath, eren took the moment to fight back, flipping you over with him looming over you. his expression was something that you had never seen before.

all right, perhaps that was a lie. you had seen it before, but it had never actually been directed at you. usually, jean was at the receiving end of that look -- his brows knitting so close together, a deep crease formed in between them; his teeth gritted and jaw clenched to the point where a vein was actually bulging at his neck.

"WHY DID YOU GET ME IN TROUBLE?" he demanded, apparently furious at your ignorance to his question.

you immediately gagged, recoiling back and turning your head sideways.

"god, what the hell did you have for breakfast?" you choked out, your nose abused by the rancid smell that had protruded from his mouth.

he might have been angry, but you were angrier.

without another second to waste (the time in which his anger was slightly masked over with a look of confusion) you brought your hand to the back of his neck and forced his head to clash against yours. he let out a loud yelp and you took over, securing your place over him once more.

your punches resumed, attack after attack, and you did not even think to stop. not even when you noticed, from the corner of your eye, how people were focused on you and your fight (perhaps they had been watching the entire brawl, perhaps only you had noticed them now).

and even when eren barely fought back, you continued.

"i --" he uttered between punches, teeth gritted and jaw clenched, "concede!"

and still you did not stop.

in fact, you gripped onto his short, brown hair and pulled his head up with it, slamming it back down every time you said a new word.

"you --"

slam.

"-- tarnished --"

slam.

"-- my --"

slam.

"plan!"

slam.

"l/n," you heard keith call out, somewhere far back in your mind, perhaps, because his voice sounded low through the ringing in your ears. "did jaeger say he concedes?"

you didn't answer, but eren did.

"i conce--"

"shut up!" you snapped, and placed a hand over his mouth to prevent him from completing his sentence.

"L/N!" keith all but bellowed at you. his voice was clearer now, probably because of how loud he was being. "GET OFF OF THE BOY NOW!"

there was a dull ringing in your ears and all you could focus on was beating the brunette to a pulp. he deserved it for how nosy he had been: perhaps this would teach him a lesson. stop sticking your nose in places where it shouldn't be, otherwise you'd get it beaten into your face by y/n l/n.

well, he could stick his nose in business that did not belong to you, you didn't mind that of course.

but seriously, had it been anyone else, they wouldn't have found the need to actually go up to you and ask you why you did what you did. you thought it was obvious? for example: connie, who you had publicly embarrassed for publicly embarrassing you with your failed attempt at a wink; jean, who you had managed to get sent to the stables as punishment for not helping you when you were in trouble with keith.

eren was no different, he did not get special treatment.

he got you in trouble with keith, so you would get him in trouble with keith in return. there was no genius needed to figure that out, and if he so desperately needed one, armin was practically the leader of geniuses. why did he choose to confront you? you made it crystal clear that he could ask his question another time, that now was not a good time, that he should go and bother someone else for the time-being.

but no. he just had to be so persistent. so stubborn.

when you made no move to get up, the higher ups had taken it upon themselves to stop you. rough hands had slid around your waist and pulled you up, dragging you away from the poor brunette, whose chest was heaving up and down with each breath he took, looking as though he had just survived a bear attack: dishevelled and fatigued.

you, in question, were the bear: your own hands gnawing at the pale ones tightly gripping your abdomen, your eyes practically glinting red, and the hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your skin. you did not know who the person dragging you away was, but whoever they were, they were nex--

"oi, stop fighting," his voice came out harshly against your ear.

you complied.

your eyes met his, lost in the pool of grey that were glinting in a way that made them look almost silver-like.

did you say that he was next?

no, that was a mistake -- you would never say that.

not to him, at least.

even though you had stopped struggling against his iron-like, tight grip, captain levi still found the need to continue to pull you away from the training sight. you were going to question when he was going to stop, until you realised that he already had -- you were the one holding onto his arms now.

he didn't even say anything, but you did not need to look back at him to know that he was probably scowling at your action.

"this is ni--"

"let go of me."

"yes, sir."

you dropped to the ground after releasing your grip. he did not bother helping you up, but you did hear him sigh when you made no move to get up. you looked over your shoulder at him, chin tilted high into the air, a hand hovering over your brows to shield your sensitive eyes from the bright sun.

he was pinching the bridge of his nose, looking stressed. you would murder whoever made your husband so stressed out, you promised this to yourself.

"what's wrong with you?" he demanded out of no where.

when your features only moved to form a look of confusion, he felt the tiring need to clarify.

"when your opponent gives up, you stop anything else you plan on doing."

"oh i know that," you stated with a smile. did the captain really think that you were not aware of that?

"which concerns me even more," he said, rubbing his forehead exasperatedly. he regarded you crossly. "get up."

you did as you were told, even taking care to salute once you stood up. there was, however, one thing that was stirring up in the pit of your stomach. it was an aching feeling, something that you had never felt before.

the time of its arrival was significant, too. you had just noticed that due to eren's actions (the constant pestering, as annoying as it was) captain levi had paid more attention to you, more than he originally would have if eren had just left you alone.. and the poor boy.. you had beaten him to an extent where he actually chose to concede. what made it worse was the fact that eren jaeger barely ever gave up. you had driven him to the point where he just had to.

you snuck a glance at him: he was being comforted by armin and mikasa, both of whom had gotten a scolding from keith for not focusing on their own training. you didn't understand them, for if it had been jean who had gotten quite the beating from one of your classmates, you would have stood there and laughed.

but, arguably, you wouldn't have done that for marco. see, for marco, you'd have done what armin and mikasa were doing for eren. now you understood.

"what, feeling guilty now?" captain levi coldly interrupted your thoughts. you didn't respond, the guilt causing you to be rendered speechless for the first time in a while. "you should. the kid looks like he came out of a war because of you."

"i --" you began, your salute now softer in your hesitation. "i just got a little angry, he was bothering me!"

"you get as good as you give."

"what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"oh, i'm surprised you understood that."

"i didn't."

"never mind then."

you thought about it for a moment and then scowled at him once it clicked. was he insinuating that you were bothersome, and therefore eren (as some form of stupid karma) was being bothersome to you?

"wait --"

"no," said captain levi, firm. "get back on the field."

but really, the whole reason why eren got such a vicious beatdown was because you thought his persistence caused some disturbance in your plan for getting the captain to notice you. so you didn't actually want to leave and return to the training field.

"but who's going to be my partner?" you questioned, trying to sound innocent.

captain levi folded his arms over his chest, but did not respond to your question. after a good ten seconds of him simply staring at you (perhaps the more accurate word would be 'glaring') he caught the attention of the rest of the cadets.

"your combat needs a little work," he called out to everyone, looking mildly disappointed. "but we can't work on it for as long as i initially wanted to. unfortunately, some people can't control themselves."

you almost choked on your own spit. you had been standing behind him, tall and poised, nodding along to everything he had been saying. until, of course, that last line. you stared at the side of his face, outraged and offended. was that a jab at you? publicly, too?

you didn't care that you looked visibly stupefied by what he had said. you didn't care that everyone was now staring at you with amusement. what you cared about was why your husband was acting the way he was. what had gotten into him? was that comment really necessary?

that horrible comment, meant to clearly reference you, might give keith the opportunity to sneak his rancid self into your closed relationship. in fact, he was probably conjuring up some mini plan in his head right now, and it was all because of your soulmate. perhaps you needed to have a chat with him sooner or later about the way he spoke about you. you weren't at all impressed with his behaviour.

"get the odm gear out," captain levi ordered loudly. "we're moving onto the manoeuvring gear training."

he looked over at you, his infamous, neutral expression plastered over his face as he watched you carefully.

"what, are you no good at it?"

perhaps you had been looking rather disappointed -- you felt like it -- otherwise he wouldn't have felt the need to ask such a thing. you raised your brows at him, straightening up immediately and shaking your head.

"'course not," you denied, because it was still true.

you weren't bad at using the gear at all. you were good, just not as good as, say, mikasa. she was an absolute monster with it. you will never forget the time you had suggested playing tag. the memory of it made a shiver run down your spine.

"i just like hand-to-hand better," you answered, trailing along behind him as he walked further on, heading for the trees where the gear is best used. "can't we do more of that?"

"you're bold," he said, voice laced with chagrin, "to even suggest that when you're the reason i had to stop it."

"you didn't have to stop it completely," you said with a frown. "keith usually puts me on a time-out when i do something he doesn't like. everyone else just continued."

"keith?" he repeats, his eyebrow twitching as he looked down at you, stopping before the first tree you guys had been met with.

you almost did not understand what he was getting at, before his gaze hardened and you remembered one of his first orders he had given you. refer to keith as commandant shadis.

"i mean.. commandant shadis."

"right," said captain levi, continuing on with his walk.

you followed on after him, keeping close to him even as more voices and footsteps could be heard somewhere far off behind the two of you. when you turned to see, the rest of the cadets were passing down the gear, securing it on each other as they walked into the woods simultaneously. perhaps it would have been a better idea to do the same, leave the captain on his own to wear the gear and prepare yourself, but you just.. did not want to. and that was a good enough answer for you to continue walking alongside the captain.

"never heard of a time-out being a punishment before," he commented vaguely.

"during the gear training, he usually makes me sit on the tallest tree branch and just watch everyone else," you told him, almost as if you were telling off of your arch-nemesis.

"that's why you don't want to train?"

you shrugged. "call it trauma."

"you're using the gear," the captain told you in a there's-no-argument type of way. he stopped, turned, and looked down at you as everyone began catching up to the both of you. "you'll be the first if you keep protesting."

"what? why? i already used the gear this morning. with you."

"i'm aware," said the captain. and then he walked past you, taking a spare manoeuvring gear out of a large box held by reiner (no surprise, he was, arguably, the strongest out of you all) and held it out to you. "you're up."

people had now surrounded the area you were standing in: deep into the woods, with lots of trees and space to move around simultaneously. it was perfect for the use of odm gear.

you slowly took the gear from his hands, examining it for scratches, dents, or random breakage. the last thing you needed was to fall off the trees and die from the use of a faulty wire or something.

"but i don't have a gas cylinder," you tried reasoning, even as you secured the straps over your chest and the ones behind your knees.

"don't worry," the captain responded, going as far as to even help you with the ones you could not reach: your back. you felt him swat your hair away, tightening even the ones you had done yourself for extra precaution. "i've heard that your own gas is a great substitute, fart girl."

your jaw dropped (as did everyone else's). you were absolutely mortified as you turned your head ever so slightly to look back at him. unlike everyone else (all of whom were now stifling their chuckles and giggles) he remained unfazed. and despite that comment that made heat rise to your cheeks, he still handed you a gas cylinder to attach to your side.

embarrassed, angered, and absolutely petrified, you could not even register the fact that he was expecting you to take the cylinder from him, for you were too shocked to even think straight. this was embarrassment to a point that you had never actually experienced before. everyone knew about the situation where you had been rather confident in releasing your own gas, but you had assumed that they would have forgotten: no one had mentioned it for quite some time.

until now.

and it was all because of your uncontrollable husband.

ex-husband, now, because as much as you loved him, this was crossing the line.

leisurely, you took the cylinder from his extended hand and stared down at it. you could barely concentrate as the laughter from your peers travelled to your ears in a manner that was not very graceful. traitors, they were -- the lot of them.

now you definitely did not want to use the gear. you held the cylinder up as if to hand it back to the captain.

"i can't do it," you told him, your nerves spiralling inside you.

he looked as though he did not believe you, which made sense, of course. if you were him, you wouldn't have believed yourself either, not when he had watched you fly around with glee early that very morning.

i have to lie, you decided in your mind. there was only one issue, however. although lying was your expertise, lying whilst racked with nerves is not. you either stumbled over your words or lied about something that was not relevant to the topic.

"why not?" said captain levi, looking sceptical.

everyone was silent now (save for the occasional snort here and there).

"because i did odm training tomorrow so i don't need to do it yesterday," you answered, barely taking a breath before attempting to undo your front straps.

there was silence. if it hadn't been daytime, you were sure there would have probably been cricket noises here and there.

"what is she even saying?" you heard connie call out, and you had to physically restrain yourself from shooting your wires deep into his chest.

"well don't look at me," shrugged jean, sounding defensive. when you followed the sound of his voice, you saw that he was leaning back against a tree with marco, who was looking startled.

if the earth could just swallow you whole, you'd be extremely grateful. you had to leave. you just had to. there was no way you could ever show your face to these people ever again. maybe you could leave and change your identity: from y/n l/n to n/y n/l, from female to elamef, from 20 years old to 02 years old. whatever it be, you had to leave.

so you tried to.

you took a step forward, but barely made it any further than that before you felt your head being tugged back by some type of force -- captain levi had pulled you back by your hair.

"not so fast," he said, barely moved by your actions. it was almost as if he had predicted it. "fix your straps and attach the damn cylinder. you're up."

you swallowed down on nothing, trying to ease yourself. you could barely register the crunching of twigs and leaves growing closer to you -- marco had taken it upon himself to help you fix the straps you had undone.

as you stared up at the trees, you felt him politely take the gas cylinder out of your own hands and slowly attach them to your gear. his face was right beside your ear, keeping his voice low when he took the opportunity to speak.

"stop scheming," he murmured, and you were certain that nobody but you could hear him. you did not question what he meant, although he felt the need to clarify. "got that look on your face.."

you had no idea what look he was talking about, but you could not deny the fact that (in truth) you really were conjuring up a plan in your head, figuring out the steps and the advantages you'd have with the position of the stagnant trees.

anytime someone would use the gear to fly up and above, they'd move forwards, using their advanced speed and agility to reach the finish line where another higher up would be standing. since keith was not around, you concluded that it would probably be him. but if you wanted to leave, you could just turn the other direction and go backwards instead..

you bit back a smile.

besides, it was not as if anyone could chase you down without the captain's permission: you'll be long gone by then.

as marco tested the strength of the gear for you, rattling and shaking it with all his might, you found that it was secure on you, less likely to break. you smiled at him as he took a step back, whispering out a 'good luck' before taking his place against the tree next to jean again, being so positively encouraging as to give you a thumbs up for extra measure.

"you finally ready?" your ex-husband asked.

you did not bother answering him, and turned away, digging your feet into the ground as you gripped onto your blades.

"hey, why're you facing that way --"

too late. you had already clicked the top trigger, firing your anchors into the nearby trees before you clicked the bottom trigger to fire out your compressed gas.

and up you went, the rest of the captain's sentence trailing off into nothingness the higher up you went from the ground.

the force of the flight against gravity resulted in the wind forcing your hair back as you continued to shoot out your anchors, flying in the opposite direction to make it back to the main base. you could hear people yelling after you, their demands that you return dying out the more you moved. you laughed loudly, which might have been a mistake seeing as the wind you were pushing yourself against flew right into your open mouth.

you closed it immediately, but still found yourself smiling as you flew through the woods. this is what they got for underestimating you, for making fun of you. the thrill of using the gear to defy physics was already feet-tingling as it was. however, adding more thrill to it by opposing the rules made it feel even better, like you were on cloud nine with all the excitement.

exhilaration had never felt better.

until you heard his voice somewhere behind you..

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the captain watched after you with lazy eyes.

it had shocked him at first, he wouldn't deny it. he genuinely thought that he had you under control at this point.

he was wrong.

though he couldn't say that it surprised him too much, now that he was really thinking about it. he hadn't realised just how sneaky you were, far sneakier than any cadet he had ever encountered. it was clear that you had no shame, which was probably the reason why you were able to do things usual people could not. he could barely tell if you were actually embarrassed by the new nickname he had given you.

and new nickname it was, for your fellow classmates were now addressing you by it.

"look at fart girl go!"

"only fart girl would do shit like this."

"do you think fart girl did that on purpose?"

there was only one place you could be heading for -- back to the main training field, straight to your dorm. captain levi had been so preoccupied with thinking about what the hell he should do about you, that he had not realised the silence that had consumed the rest of the cadets he was no responsible for.

he stared at them, eyes particularly focused on the two boys that he knew you were tight with. both were tall, one significantly taller than the other, with lighter hair and a longer face. the other boy had soft freckles decorating his features, a softer look about him.

the main factor that the captain had caught on to (which made them different to the rest of the cadets staring up at the sky in awe) was how unsurprised they seemed. it was almost as if they had expected nothing less from you.

the boy with the freckles caught the captain's eye, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with a smile.

"er -- permission to go after her, sir?" he asked, in an almost tentative manner.

captain levi looked back up at the trees. "permission denied," he said, though not unkindly.

he seemed to be thinking to himself. this training session had not gone to plan. and it was all because of you. you were really beginning to become an itch on his side, one that he could not quite seem to reach. a headache, even. and usually, he would be able to cure it with a simple cup of tea. you were proving to be as difficult as keith shadis had mentioned.

"any volunteers to go up next?" he asked, looking around at them all. and then he exhaled through his nose. "and if it's not clear enough already, you move that way." he pointed to his right.

in the end, an enthusiastic, green-eyed boy jumped up at the opportunity to prove himself. it was only after a couple of seconds of light staring did he realise that it was the very boy that you had savagely beaten. the captain thought he had a staring problem, for the boy had an odd sort of attachment to the wings of freedom etched upon his uniform. perhaps he was another one that wanted to join the regiment of literal death.

while the boy adjusted his gear, captain levi addressed the rest of them.

"training's no different. you'll take turns after you hear the commandant's call that he's reached the end. you'll be timed," he instructed, mind half distracted. "and you," he added, talking to the green-eyed boy. "when you get to shadis, let him know that i've got to deal with a rogue cadet."

the boy raised his eyebrows.

"rogue cade--"

"he'll know exactly what i mean."

despite looking slightly confused, the green-eyed boy simply shrugged, planting his feet into the ground. the captain searched his pockets, before sighing in frustration at the realisation of something that (surprise-surprise) you had been the cause of. resisting the urge to simply take off and tackle you, he called out to the rest of the cadets.

"anyone have a pocket watch?" he asked exasperatedly.

if one of them did, perhaps you'll be safe.

if none of them did, however... well it's a good thing that you had a head start.

you got lucky: a girl with pigtails stepped forward with a shaky smile and handed the visibly annoyed captain her own pocket watch. he took it from her, nodding when she saluted and returned to her position in between a tall, dark-haired boy. he stared down at the pocket watch in his hands. how was he supposed to monitor wherever the hell you had flown off to and time the cadets at the same time?

"you," he said suddenly, walking towards a short, blonde, blue-eyed boy who had been looking displeased with the practical training (the captain had eyes everywhere).

the boy immediately perked up, straightening his back and saluting, eyes wide at being addressed by a higher up.

"sir!" he squeaked, seemingly surprised.

"at ease," said captain levi, aware that shadis was probably beginning to get impatient now. he extended his arm, the hand attached to it presenting the other girl's pocket watch. "you look capable. time them like usual. i have business to attend to."

the boy looked hesitant, but did not look as though he would suggest an alternative option as he took the pocket watch and nodded.

"i'll be back soon," he stated loudly, his voice laced with authority. "so don't mess around."

and he took off, trailing after you without another word.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

perhaps you shouldn't have stopped at a tree branch to rest your legs. the adrenaline rush nearly had you lose control in your moment of exhilaration.

you didn't know it yet, but the captain was after you. not that it mattered too much, of course. you were wise enough to go deeper into the woods than to simply go for the main base -- it was merely a resting point. you'd go back to moving soon anyway.

you had taken it upon yourself to rest on the highest tree branch possible, legs outstretched and back flat against the ongoing tree trunk. nobody would find you here unless you wanted to be found, and after that round of embarrassment, you certainly did not want to be found. with not only being higher up than it was actually allowed (unless you were told to sit in time out) your small form was obscured behind several leaves and branches, hidden away like a prized gift.

from that high up, everything looked so small. bushes that you knew were rather wide and difficult to get through looked as though they were nothing more than several obstacles for an ant.

maybe it's time to get a move on now, you had thought to yourself calmly as you secured the straps on your knees and adjusted the gas cylinder on your side. you would never forget the time daz's gas cylinder slipped out of its small case during flight; everyone had been considerably more careful since then, including you, as reckless as you were.

you nearly tumbled out of your standing position on the tree branch when you heard a loud shout of your name. and it wasn't just any shout...

"L/N!" captain levi practically bellowed from somewhere far away.

no... you thought, alarmed. that didn't make sense. he wasn't allowed to leave the cadets unsupervised. was he not supposed to be busy with timing everyone? was he not supposed to alert someone else that you were missing? why had he taken it upon himself to find you?

oh this was bad... this was really, really bad.

the captain was practically a machine of some sort. his hearing was immaculate too, just like a bat. it didn't matter if he would ever go blind one day, his excellent hearing made up for the lost sense.

he was, perhaps, the only person who would be able to seek you out, even with your fabulous choice of hiding.

although, now that you thought about it, sasha had several heightened senses too, but it was not as though you had heard her voice call out your name several seconds ago.

you kept an eye out for any closeness of ruffling leaves, any rough movement, or the sound of gas being pushed out of its cylinder to enable flight against gravity. so far so good, you had almost convinced yourself that you were being paranoid. maybe that had been a sign for you to get back to your dorm. and quickly, at that.

you relaxed your stance against the tree, relieved. perhaps that had been your second mistake in the same minute.

"L/N!"

you actually did fall this time. panicked and alarmed, you had no choice but to hurriedly click the top trigger of your controller grip, your wires shooting out to latch themselves onto the tree branch you had fallen from, leaving you hanging upside down in the air.

it was silent now, only the sound of your blood pounding in your ears as the liquid dived to your brain. your head was beginning to feel heavy with the added weight.

he was listening, you knew. he had heard the sound of your wires and the latch, and he was probably trying to track you down.

you had to make a move. now.

taking a deep breath in, you pulled the lever, reeling the wires back in as you fell several feet. heart pounding against your chest, you clicked the trop trigger again, shooting your wires against a tree to your left and a tree to your right. with great impulse, you pushed your legs over your head to flip yourself, no longer upside down.

"cadet l/n!" you heard him yell, almost as if he had spotted you.

you wasted no time in clicking the bottom trigger, your gas shooting out of its cylinder as you took off, flying through the trees and making it back to main base.

with a short glance over your shoulder, your teeth gritted once you realised that the captain was nearly hot on your trail.

"get back here, that's an order!" he snapped, displeased and unimpressed with this game of cat and mouse.

you clenched your jaw, turning away from him and continuing your trip despite his order, your fingers working in that similar pattern: top trigger, bottom trigger, and then back again.

and then you had been met with another problem.

because your hiding place had been deeper into the woods, going for the main base would take longer, especially now that you needed to be quicker because of the man following after you. you had to think fast, then.

"l/n!"

going for the cadets would be quicker as you could run through the training field and head for the dorms, take the short cut, and be out of sight. men weren't allowed in the girls' barracks after all.

"l/n, turn around and --"

it would be a brilliant plan. other than the fact that you had to face everyone again, but you could tolerate it. just for a bit.

instead of latching your wires onto a tree to your left and a tree to your right, you hooked them both in the same direction, swinging all the way around to change your direction.

and then you head back, using more gas because you knew that the captain, although stumped by your choice, was now closer than before. squinting your eyes, you could see that the area you had escaped from was growing closer and closer, yet the cadets there had grown smaller and smaller. when you were only around twenty trees behind, you could see that the training had continued: armin had been tasked with the job of timing the cadets.

of course. that did make sense, after all.

"l/n!"

the eyes of the remaining cadets had turned to you. you caught marco's eye (jean was no longer there) and gave him a grin, one that he did not know whether to return or not. instead, his eyes merely travelled to the presence behind you, looking worried at the sight.

you flew over your classmates, almost as if it was your turn to be tested (armin had muttered a 'should i time her?') and continued to fly off.

but the captain was still trailing after you.

"oi, fart girl!" he snapped angrily.

now that...

that stopped you.

you were now hanging low in between two trees your wires had gripped on to.

you looked over your shoulder, eyes narrowed and brow twitching. looking down, you could see that you had barely made it away from where the cadets originally were (originally, for they had now come running over to you and the captain, who was standing on a tree branch higher than you, glowering).

"what did you just call me?" you asked lowly. you landed yourself on a different tree branch, looking up at him with an expression of contempt.

captain levi clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"if i'd known that you would've responded to that rather than your own name, i would've said it sooner, fart girl."

you contemplated ridding yourself of your gear and simply diving head first into the ground. dying and never returning seemed a better option than to stand where you currently were and simply take the degrading lecture. you never got embarrassed. EVER.

so why, now, were you feeling heat rise to your cheeks? why was the hairs on your neck standing up? why were you curling in on yourself and avoiding the gaze of the captain?

the conclusion: you were embarrassed.

and to an extent you had never thought was even possible to reach.

"so you've found her!" a booming voice from below you called out to the captain.

keith shadis.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you hadn't been let off lightly (that was obvious, special treatment did not exist in the training corps even if you thoroughly believed that you deserved it).

but as you slammed the door to your room with ill-contained anger, you became well aware of what keith and captain levi were going to do.

angry with not only yourself, but with your ex-husband and your arch nemesis, you aggressively pulled open the drawer attached to your bed-side table, strong enough to actually detach it completely. and that only made you more indignant.

you placed the broken drawer on top of the table and pulled out your long forgotten diary. dust had collected on top of it, flying around your eyes when you blew it away and patted at it. it was a silly, old thing. something to just write your thoughts in (one of the villagers in your home town suggested it a long time ago, and that was a different story). it had been neglected for a while, every memory of using it locked in the back of your mind all the way up until now.

it was a journal styled book, with pages incredibly similar to the texture and warm colour of fresh parchment paper. as you opened the book, your eyes merely skimmed over the rough doodles and bad handwriting:

you sighed as you stared at the first couple of pages of your diary. those were easier times, ancient ones, but easier all the same. that version of you, the one that first started the corps, clearly did not know what difficulty she'd be put through later on.

you hurriedly flipped over to the next blank page. your eyebrows raised when you looked at the date of the last time you had written in there: november 29th 848. that was just before your meeting with commander erwin. you hadn't updated your diary on that event, but that was fine. you had other matters to address.

pulling your wooden chair back eagerly, the legs screeching loudly against the floor boards, you sat yourself down and reached for your pen, writing down the date and the events of your dreadful day.

it hadn't been too long before you found yourself completely invested in writing more and more in your diary. but because of the new (and constant) gentle knocking on your door, you had to stop yourself, making a literal note to update the book soon.

after being publicly embarrassed, you were almost one hundred percent certain that the person behind your door was marco. he had seen it all and he was always the type to comfort you when you needed it. right now, though? you needed time to yourself. you needed to vent out your anger. you needed to scream, be put in a room where you could smash things (particularly the heads of your ex-husband and your rival).

surprised, you nearly kicked yourself at how the thought of hitting your ex had even come to mind, even if it did sound enticing.

knock, knock!

your chair squeaked against the floor as you stood up, pushing it away from you absentmindedly as you turned to the door and silently shouted curse words at it. to be fair, your words weren't directly targetted at the person behind the door, more so at keith and captain levi. still, you had taken the anger out on yourself all the same, gripping onto the roots of your hair in a silent threat to pull it off your scalp.

you mimed punching the door, fists clenched as you shook them.

the door had opened.

and it wasn't even marco that had been behind it.

it was mina.

and she had just witnessed your silent tantrum, eyes narrowed as her brows furrowed, hand held up as if she was about to knock again.

you froze, moved back to a normal stance, and stared back at her, blank faced.

"erm," she began, clearing her throat and wiping the palm of her hand on her pants. "you didn't come down for dinner, so i was wondering what you were -- what you were up to..."

you didn't say anything, tilting your head to the side as you awaited for a complete explanation of what she needed now.

"but if you're busy..." she continued, sounding unsure of how to react. her brows rose after the odd look on her face left. "well you looked busy --"

"get out."

"ok."

you had followed her out of your dorm despite the weird encounter.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

captain levi was very irritated.

very.

and who was it all because of?

well you of course! you were, he decided, practically the bane of his existence.

he had spent the last twenty minutes or so having a discussion with shadis about you in the commandant's office. the two had gone through a list of the punishments you had been given for previous misbehaviour (and mind you, there were a lot). captain levi had never seen so many reports in one file.

it only made his stomach flip over on itself when he had reminded himself that he would probably have to deal with this in a couple of months seeing as you were adamant on joining the scout regiment for whatever stupid reason. were you giving him a simple taster of what was to come? was this you preparing him for the trouble you would have him endure once you joined?

shadis had informed the captain that he had inflicted every form of punishment the training corps allowed to be used on its cadets.

every. single. one.

and your behaviour, if anything, had possibly turned over to be at its worst: it seemed that disrespecting the captain of the scout regiment was crossing the line, for shadis had come up with a brand new form of punishment, designed specifically for you... and if the training corps ever encountered another cadet as wild as you in future (though it was clear that both shadis and captain levi doubted it ever would).

and shadis, the actual bastard, had put the job of breaking the news to you to him -- captain levi.

that was what pissed him off.

firstly, you weren't even at dinner where you should have been. each cadet is legally required to be provided three meals a day, and it was crucial that everyone had their foodwith the amount of training and energy needed for a regular day.

secondly, your friends had no idea where you were too. apparently, you hadn't been seen since the cat and mouse game you had played earlier. when he asked them why they hadn't looked for you (were they not supposed to be your friends?) they made it quite clear to the captain that you evoked fear from everyone -- even if they did not voice this.

so you were missing and captain levi had no idea when he was supposed to alert you of your brand new punishment. oh, and did he mention that the punishment was supposed to start from tomorrow, too?

he stood by the double doors of the mess hall, watching as the girl with pigtails -- the one who had handed him her pocket watch earlier -- walked past him, heading towards the dorms.

he was the captain of the scout regiment. scouting did not mean that he had to scout the whole of the training fields in search for you, a regular cadet. this was never mentioned in his contract; he had not signed himself up for this. even escaping the wrath of a titan was easier than the task forcefully handed to him by shadis, the bald coward. the commandant was your mentor, his responsibility. not the captain's -- at least, not yet.

after contemplating his life choices for a few more minutes, he found himself growing more agitated at the realisation that you were probably hiding in your dorm room.

the very area in which men were not allowed to enter.

he huffed, brows furrowing in fury and eyes glinting with annoyance. only you would put him through the shame of walking down the girls' barracks where he was not actually allowed to be.

and that's where he found himself: walking down the girls' barracks in search for your dorm, ignoring the odd glances sent to him by several random female cadets as he plucked up the courage to ask one of them where your room was.

he did not wait for any questions the second the answer was given before darting forwards to find you.

where the hell is hange when you need her? he grumbled to himself in his mind, a black cloud of negativity looming over his head as he neared the door to your room.

he probably would have yelled out in frustration if he wasn't already being watched by several people.

your stupid door was left open.

and that only meant one thing.

he stepped inside, dread filling his stomach: you were absent.

i walked all the way down here for nothing? he questioned silently, repressing the urge to kick the leg of your wooden chair and snap it in half.

he nearly turned away, about to storm off when something had caught his eye. your drawer was broken, left unattended on top of your table. he drew closer, unsure why, but he did, mildly interested.

the drawer was nearly empty, filled with hair ties and a few pens.

but the thing sitting beside it was what peaked his interest more than he would have liked.

curious, he eyed the open book, feeling foolish when he had come under the impression that he had seen the nickname he had given her written down somewhere there.

but he was right.

his eyes scanned the page, pointer finger sliding down the paper when he had seen it:

'he made everyone call me fart girl!'

and he felt even more dotish when he had taken more than a minute to realise that this was your diary.

he flipped the page back, more engrossed than he would have liked to admit as he picked up the thick book and leaned against your table to read.

what the fuck?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

he was back in his own office, having analysed your diary once more.

it was a good thing that his reaction time had been tested several times on expeditions, for he was equally prepared when the door had open loudly without warning.

he knew it was hange: she was the only one in the entire regiment who had never bothered to knock.

and therefore, there was more haste than he usually had in hiding that book of yours inside his own drawer (much less prone to breaking, might he add).

but perhaps he had been a little more slower than usual, or maybe the look on his face was more neutral than usual, for hange's eyes had narrowed behind the usual glasses she wore, looking at him with that look.

that look, the one where she used her brain to uncover secrets, puzzles and complicated plans.

there were few things in this world that worried captain levi. along with you being one of them, that look hange had settled comfortably on her face was another.

"what?" he snapped, irritated.

maybe his bark had a little more bite to it too, because the section commander's brows rose significantly.

"why do you look like that?" she asked, ask though she were uncovering the most fascinating thing in the world. it was the look she had when trying to discover the nature of titans.

he stared at her, deadpanned.

"like what?"

"like you've just seen a ghost," she answered, stepping inside his office without his permission (as per usual, he had gotten used to it). "like you're hiding something --"

"get out."

"not until you tell me what you're hiding!" sang hange, walking further inside despite the captain's demand that she leave.

"not hiding anything," he lied calmly, picking up his discarded pen and scribbling random notes over his very important papers. he would worry about the damage later, he decided. "now leave."

hange continued as if she hadn't heard his final comment. "no! now, what's your secret, levi?"

"hange --"

"come on, levi!" said hange, standing up straighter than usual and placing a hand over her heart. "i won't tell anyone, scouts honour!"

it didn't take long before levi had finally decided that he had had enough and personally kicked hange out himself.

she found herself standing outside his office, face met with his office door.

she would find out what the secretive shorty is hiding.

she was determined.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

can anyone guess what her punishment will be? i highly doubt any of the guesses will be right... as mentioned, it's very unique ;)

all characters belong to hajime isayama, apart from y/n, who i've inserted into the story myself.

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