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#I HATE MY FATHER WITH ALL MY BEING WHY DO YOU CONSTANTLY KEEP ASSUMING THAT I LOVE HIM
meowsgirldrawing · 1 year
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Obey Me Next Generation Idea(aka-My au)
What about poly Au with the bros? I assume with demon culture, MC having kids and the bros all being the dad wouldn't be too surprising as I think monogamous relationships are seen just the same as polyamorous. Like neither really matter honestly in a "oh this is a big deal/drama!" Sense.
Plus its the 7 lords, they can do whatever the fuck they want
I know MC is mostly human but I think having kids is still possible as they got magic plus their pacts with the bros might make them stronger. Plus, historically, woman have been able to have multiple pregnancies, like more than 4 at least, so still- not impossible.
Just let me have my next gen shenanigans
ONTO THE KIDS PLEASE AND THANK YOU
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Varya (1st Born) (she/her)-25
Daughter of Mammon
Is more demon than human, possibly the most demon out of the kids.
Holds a very smiley but deadly aura around her.
Seems the opposite of Mammon in behavior but you can tell by her subtle acts towards her family, shes his kid alright.
Is the type of person to shake a person's hand but hold a knife in the other.
"Looks like a cinnamon roll, can kill you"
Lights up at the mentions of crocheting, dogs, and weird but oddly alluring creatures around Devildom.
She does have a small habit of gambling when out with Mammon, but is actually able to keep her wins because no one expects it through her gold-winning smile.
Mess with her family and its on sight.
Lilith the 2nd (3rd born-1st triplet) (she/her)-21
I headcannon Lucifer to at least be the only one to name their daughter after their sister. Not to replace, never, but to honor her.
Is in a strange middle between Half demon-mostly demon
Sweetheart by default
That big sister you can always talk to and she wont judge.
Will make passive agressive remarks when peeved off.
Definitely denies acting like Lucifer yet can do the stance-arms crossed and glare- exactly like him.
Even does the whole hand chest like him too. Shocked look and all.
Calls all the brothers papa but Lucifer father, not as a distance way but thats just how she's always been.
Theatre kid- almost always lead.
Anna from Frozen vibes at times.
Hopeless romantic too.
Basically Lucifer if he actually showed more emotions.
Daddy's girl 100%
May or may not be in a secret relationship with Diavolo's heir👀
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Rhomb(2nd Born) (he/him)-23
Son of Leviathan
Named after the Loch ness Monster
A nice balance between human and demon
But has "mutations" that make him have scaly patches on his body, his tail out almost 24/7, and bad eyesight.
Stern attitude most of the time.
Big bro protector
Tallest of all the kids
Softer on the younger kids but will smack a bitch if they act up.
Cant play video games much cause eyes so turns to more physical games that include puzzles.
Likes games with strategy to follow like War tanks, or chess. Is the type to make a DnD game the best cause he makes amazing stories too despite not reading much.
Likes mystery shows too and tries to figure it out before the answer is revealed, could go on rants about why. Gets it right 11/10 times.
If Leviathan wasnt his biological dad, people would believe he was Satan's kid.
Doesnt like cats tho.
Quinn (4th Born- 2nd Triplet) (He/they/doesnt care) (21)
Asmo just thought Quinn was a pretty name so picked it lol.
Also a nice balance between human/demon. Tho his wings stay out constantly.
Very much vibes from that yellow bird in Rio.
Laid back personality but is an outgoing dude.
Also very protective of their siblings, and will not hesitate to cut a bitch.
Isnt as flamboyant as Asmo but does have a just as great fashion sense.
Has a hard time dating as people automatically assume hes just like Asmo so will try to date him for that reason only.
Love his dad but hates the reputation he gets because of being said son.
So he resorts to just sticking to his siblings or the few friends he trusts.
Besides MC, is the second most popular face to pop up on Asmo's Devilgram
Fucking adores axolotls for no particular reason, just loves them to no end which Asmo makes sure to get many axolotl themed plushes, shirts, etc. for him.
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Libbey(Liberty) (5th Born- 3rd triplet)(she/her)-21
Another balance between human/demon, maybe a tad more on the demon side.
Tho, also has "mutations" like very enhanced hearing.
Bookworm to the max
Loves reading dramas and fantasies, but seems to enjoy multiseries more than stand alone.
Very quiet and shy kid of the group.
Sometimes cant even talk so signs instead because earaches or headaches.
Likes cats but perfers reptiles more.
Has a small turtle in her room from the human realm, set it up beside her bed and everything. Their name is Casey after one of her favorite human novels she read.
But despite all this, isnt called the daughter of wrath just for nothing beside biology reasons.
Is like Satan 2.0 when pissed, she wont yell or scream but you can just tell from the drop of room temperature and the subtle tilt of her head.
Her eyes glow an electric green when shes pissed.
Had more anger issues when younger, but cause Satan knew how to handle his better now, taught her how to aswell.
Satan is probably the main one to understand her issues with such a problem, despite being more mellowed out now that shes older.
Is definitely a cryer when really angry tho.
Ryder(6th Born) (1st twin)- 19
Ngl, everyone was surprised that they had twins. Including Belphie himself.
But then again, they did have triplets before them so....eh?
Ryder is a tad more human than demon, but still powerful enough to have his own demon form like his older siblings.
His tail is seen smaller than Belphie's, and a bit thinner too.
The sloth genes affact him only so much, making him more likely just want to procrastinate then outright not do anything.
He honestly enjoys the human world more than Devildom, mainly cause everything is less..hectic per say.
Hes the type of brother/older friend that will cover for ya if you have to hide something but will subtly suggest how to fix whatever their doing.
Like one time Quinn came home slightly tipsy and past curfew, and he snuck them into his room. Though he scolded them in the morning, he covered for Quinn at breakfast, saying they ate too much sugar last night, thats why hes queasy and has a headache.
Quinn did fix that habit up quick after Ryder threatened to leave him on his own next time it happened.
Calls everyone bro or dude, no matter their gender.
Gen z vibes too in most areas.
Has a fixation with cow bells for some reason, likes the noise is all he can say.
If he were told what Belphie did to their mom/human parent way before they were born, he says "Cowabummer" while screaming inside.
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River(7th born-2nd twin)(they/them)-19
How is this Belphie's kid?
Too hyper, tad crazy
Probably has ADHD, who knows.
While Ryder is the slightly responsible twin, their the reason why Ryder needs to be said twin.
Their just about the same range of human/demon as Ryder, can have a demon form, but only uses it to fuck with people than to actually be scary with it.
They may have alot of power, but their personality alone can kill people.
Is the type of kid to crawl on the ceiling when they were 2.
Is also the type to hop outta window to get to the lower floor faster. Thank Belphie for their demon powers otherwise we'd have another Lillith situation.
Has scared even Lucifer at one point, has made him yelp out of surprise. Will not go on how, no matter how much Papa Satan and Belphie ask them. Just has a toothy grin when they ask.
When calm, is actually a pretty chill dude. They like odd patterns and get fixated on the most random things.
MC gave them one of those sand timers that you flip to restart and when she came down to tell them food was done about 2 hours later, she found them sitting on the table, holding it while watching the sand go down. They use it now to relax and focus on when overstimultated or just having too much of a fuzzy head.
Has spent nearly a how week with Leviathan because they got hooked on one anime with him. Now has frequent solo movie nights with him cause.
"They're tad confused, but got the spirit"
Literally had to have someone (Rhomb) explain to them what the LGBTQ+ letters meant. Legit thought it was just new alphabet pattern, was still happy to find out what it all means.
If you told them what Belphie did to their mom before they were born, they'd think it as a joke. Dont tell them otherwise or they will cry.
Frankie(8th Born)(She/her)-16
Everyone thought that she would be the biggest child when MC was pregnant with her, since y'know, it was confirmed Beel's kid.
Yeah, she came out small. Like scary small for a baby.
It was then everyone knew she would be the most human. Has a little demon in her, but clearly not enough to have a demon form nor mark.
Lucifer's wallet cried in relief.
She does eat a good bit more than the average human but overall, nothing compared to Beel.
She does adore sweets to the max, especially gummies. Give her some and she'll love you forever.
Sweetest little sunshine in the world, everyone adores her. If they dont, then they will soon.
Shes like Mirabel in encanto, kinda wishes she had more demon powers but is still overall happy with who she is.
When her a Beel are with each other- OH MY DIAVOLO, THE CAVITIES PEOPLE GET- TOO DAMN SWEET AND PURE
Like big papa Beel and his sweet little girl all smiley and pure. Best father-daughter relationship out of all the siblings and fathers.
Shes kinda like pinkie pie from MLP but like more hyper as fuck. Can and will speak so fast when excited that it just comes out as squeaks at that point.
Since her more human side, shes more likely to stay in human world when their mom is on Buisness there, so she has alot of human friends.
Shes in gymnastics, which definitely helps keep her figure more smaller despite all the sweets she eats. Does work out with Beel too.
Mess with her and you have a whole army on yer ass.
"Bounce to the beat of my own drum!"
You can just tell how much I love this dear. HA
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depressed-teacup-inc · 10 months
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A double review because at this point, the show is just repeating itself
Alright so miraculous again decided to air two episodes at once, which ok, annoying as fuck for someone that times and reviews them, but we survive either way. Let’s go!
Confrontation
Alright, I’m officially renaming “Lila episodes” into “Lila and Chloe episodes” because literally Chloe has become the new Lila! Literally nothing that they do makes sense or has any reason beyond “they’re evil and hate marinette mwahahaha” and just exist to make marinette look better in comparison
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(In case you’re wondering why they’re still around and what’s the point of Chloe and Lila, it’s because the minute they’re actually complex/compelling characters or they’re gone, Marinette’s actions and behaviors become way more awful in hindsight, so the show keeps these two around to make Marinette either a martyr or a hero)
Also nothing in this episode makes sense and constantly contradicts itself?
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Like the entire premise of the episode being the students getting assigned to terrible high schools, but they never wanted to do these sheets in the first place? The lucky charms are suddenly magical shields, but then why wasn’t this discovered before? You’re telling me no one thought to encourage petiole away from being akumatized? And also, Lila’s plan is so flimsy and held by the thread that the students will just assume marinette did this for… basically no reason because they’re graduating
Also I don’t care what the episode argues, Damocles, André and Bustier all were shit role models and support systems for the students, and were a big reason as to why students were angry and akumatized in the first place, but sure let’s just pretend they’re good last minute you guys!
Anyways this sucked, next episode
Collusion
So… Adrien has officially been character assassinated by the show to have no personality beyond being love interest!
This happened in the last episode too, but you see it here so much as well! Like literally every minute of Adrien’s screentime, and every time he talks is somehow connected to marinette! Literally his father is sending him away to a private school in London (which honestly at this point with what marinette did to him, take the chance and run baby) which is supposed to be his worst nightmare, and rather then think about his responsibility to Paris as Chat Noir or his friends that he will leave or his sense of autonomy, all he can think about is “I’ll be separated from marinette🥺”
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HE LITERALLY SAID HE ISNT SURE OF ANYTHING ABOUT HIS LIFE OR WHO HE IS BUT ALL HE KNOWS IS THAT HES IN LOVE WITH THIS GIRL AND THATS THE ONE THINGS FOING IN HIS LIFE, LOOK AT WHAT THEYVE DONE TO MY BOYYYYYY!!!
And wasn’t perfect the very thing Adrien didn’t want to be perceived of that marinette constantly calls him? It’s giving putting someone on a pedestal and not seeing them for what they really are (the love square is literally high school sweethearts marrying tans divorcing in like 3 years)
Anyways, grieving Adrien’s personality aside, Chloe is demonized to the point of unrealistic, the one teacher who was actually being a decent teacher and not contributing to a system of corruption is now demonized out of nowhere too, Lila literally makes no sense (like that’s apparently not even her name? She goes by cerise in another school, and she has three moms WHAT THE FUCK EVEN IS THIS SHOW ANYMORE), Chloe is mayor now for some fucking reason (this is illegal), and André gets dumb redemption arc out of nowhere.
Mentioned I’m in the previous episodes too, but André is not a good person and the show keeps pretending he is? Like girl, man is confirmed to do corrupt horrific politician stuff, has had the chance to help and actually raise his daughter for years, but chose to neglect her after her mother abandoned her, and now pretends to be a good parent to a child that’s not even his own to feel better about himself, AND YET IM SUPPOSED TO THINK HES SYMPATHETIC AND GOOD? FUCK THAT!
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Also real quick, what the fuck is up with the mayor controlling the school? Like initially I was think the reason Chloe has leverage in the school is that her dad, through big donations, basically controls the school board and who gets to do what, but it seems he’s just? Using his mayor powers? Like girl that’s not how being mayor works, you can’t just fire anyone like that, this is a very bad lesson in politics
But yeah. Both episodes awful.
The only good things I can take from here is that there’s finally a canonical lesbian couple that wasn’t constantly queerbated (I love Julerose, and don’t like Zoenette, but they’re both constantly vague and easily censored) and Juleka got some screen time.
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(Also Luka and Adrien are officially in the “being Marinette’s love square character assassinated me till the point I have no personality outside of it” club)
Also if you’re wondering why I didn’t mention anything about the fights? They’re dumb, last like five minutes and take a back sit just to tell you how awful Lila and Chloe are.
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Okay. I've already talked about how the comics...pretty extensively screwed over Azula both in my own posts and in reblogs to other posts on the website. So I'm gonna take a break from that and talk about how...the comics screwed over another character I'm fond of.
...I really need to think of other topics.
So anyways, Mai.
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Again, I already touched on how Mai was handled in the comics with my post about how the entirety of the Fire Nation was whitewashed and Azula was used as a scapegoat. But I kinda want to dive into Mai a bit more since it damages her character in particular along with some other questionable narrative choices.
Starting with, obviously, her relationship with Azula. Again, I already went over how they tried to retcon her friendship as being something she was "forced into" and actually holding a grudge against Azula, so I'm not gonna go treading the same grounds again.
What I am going to go into is how freaking pathetic they make Mai look in trying to make this grudge out to be.
See, one of the incidents that apparently Mai hates Azula for is...stealing mochi from her mother's kitchen. Seriously. That's a reason.
Yes. Apparently one of the reasons Azula was a bad egg was she stole mochi the one time. Yep. Something stupid they did as a kid together. But we can discuss how the comics tried to demonize Azula as a child another time to focus on something...well...take a look.
Yeah...for some reason, they had Mai hold it over Azula's head about the time they stole mochi together.
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...forgive me for stating the obvious, but how does Mai look better for seriously holding it against Azula for something that happened when they were literal toddlers? If nothing else, it makes her like a complete womanchild.
And womanchild is not something that should be ever uttered in reference to Mai ever.
Cause Mai's grudge against Azula? It's practically out of control in Smoke and Shadows. I know it's popular to assume Mai hates Azula, but she never actually held much of a grudge against her in the series proper outside of the Boiling Rock incident. But stuff like this:
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This is too much.
But why am I harping on Mai's sudden hatred of Azula all of a sudden?
See...one of the things Smoke and Shadow seemed to do was to try and paint Azula as Mai's nemesis. The source of her childhood trauma or whatever. That overcoming her fear of Azula will make her a stronger person or whatever.
Except...no...no it's not.
Azula wasn't the source of Mai's issues growing up. You want to know what is?
Mai: What do you want from me? You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well, it wasn't. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted ... as long as I behaved, and sat still, and didn't speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about.
Yeah...that's what Mai's problems came from.
She was passed over her younger brother by both her mother and father and was constantly conditioned to reign her emotions in and basically be a piece of furniture. Mai literally joined Azula's group just to get away from her toxic family.
Hell, guess who's one of the biggest obstacles in Smoke and Shadows?
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Yeah. Ukano. Her own father.
This could've been something big for Mai. Finally standing up to her father for all the bullcrap he put her through, the real source of all her problems. You know, something that was actually hinted at in Rebound, the Free Comic Book Day issue.
Instead, it all gets scrapped. Mai actually defends her father while showing more hatred for Azula. To me, that's the equivalent of Zuko's tantrum of blaming Azula for everything in The Search while Ozai doesn't even get a mention. Mai would rather throw her friend under the bus while sticking her neck out for her traitorous, neglectful father.
As someone who actually enjoys Mai, this damages her character so much. It doesn't make her stronger. It just makes her look like a coward not standing up against those that put her through hell while projecting her issues onto somebody else. In this case, Azula. And since Ukano's been arrested, now there's no way to properly resolve Mai's issues that way.
That's why I hate what these comics did to Mai. She honestly deserves better than what she got. For a character with as much potential as her, she got a raw deal. Big time.
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gxldencity · 7 months
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I GOT to learn more about Dolores!
@allyennah also asked this lmao
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Full Name: María Dolores Adelaida Alvaros y Marasigan
Gender and Sexuality: bisexual (cis) woman
Pronouns: she/her
Ethnicity/Species: Half Drow/Half Human
Birthplace and Birthdate: 10th day of Ches 1464 in a small barangay (town) in Cupang, Sina Una :)
Guilty Pleasures: Kids. She would never have them and had nightmares about being a parent but she's fond of them on their own. Like she's so weak to kids. The one time she got utterly mad so far was when Kagha was threatening to imprison and torture a child (like...the eldritch powers truly came out when Dolores was intimidating her to spare the kid)
Phobias: spiders lmao. She would not last a day in her father's homeland in the Underdark. Kar'niss would be an interesting person to meet.
What They Would Be Famous For: She already is (in)famous in the islands of Sina Una for nearly destroying an entire town :).
What They Would Get Arrested For: Murder :) and bc of her pact (which IM still trying to figure out the full conditions) she has been almost arrested in every town she's been in but thanks to the "kind" mercy of the eldritch creature she has a situationship with, she almost always gets away.
OC You Ship Them With: None tbh :) she truly zoomed in at the one person who has been appreciative of her efforts this entire time and has planned out their life together lmao.
OC Most Likely To Murder Them:
Also none. If anything Dolores would probably adopt them.
Favorite Movie/Book Genre:
Comedic plays I'd say. Anything to make her laughs.
but okay okay assuming this in the modern day and they share the same media as we do, she'll be a Romance novel and movie lover! She's a perpetually tired eldest daughter. She'll love the escapism and unabashed joy of a good Romance novel. The Brown sisters trilogy by Talia Hibbert would be her favourite.
Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche:
Same idea as the last question...assuming this is in the modern day and we share the same kind of media as they do then she generally won't be a fan of doorstopper books and incomprehensible movies. She can appreciate the artistry of them but that's it lol.
Talents and/or Powers:
Aside from the powers given to her by her patron, Dolores is good at weaving and has knitted shawls and scarves for the camp. (Withers is fond of the hat she made him)
She's also highly organized and good at most housework thanks to her parentification :)). Not that she likes doing them. She still hasn't cooked for the camp because she finds no joy in cooking.
Why Someone Might Love Them:
Dolores is fiercely loyal and wears her heart around her sleeve. She has a lot of love to give. She's also compassionate and a good listener, an open shoulder to cry on.
A lamplight left on in the darkness, leading them home...so to speak :)
Why Someone Might Hate Them:
She can be overbearing, thanks to her wanting to find fulfillment with being needed. It's like something that she clashed with nearly everyone in the party early on bc like...just bc they have problems doesn't mean she has to solve them or god forbid use her illithid powers to read their minds (Gale and Wyll did NOT like that at all). She can be nosy as well and it is something she struggled with Shadowheart at the initially as u know Shadowheart prefers to keep things a secret as part of her calling to Shar.
How They Change:
She learns that it's okay to be selfish from time to time and not to sacrifice herself constantly. She also learns to channel the deep-seated anger she had for her family into something more healing. Like finding peace doesn't necessarily mean forgiving and forgetting the person who has harmed you.
Why You Love Them:
Dolores is like...my answer to most eldest daughter stories I've encountered :)). They almost always are too fluffy and ends with the daughter forgiving and reconciling with her parents after years of neglect and/or abuse. And that is fine I guess but I hate how most of the narrative around eldest daughters is basically that.
Sometimes your parents are abusive and they suck ass. Sometimes siblings also perpetuate the same kind of abuse your parents and living in the same abusive environment does not excuse or forgive their actions. And it's totally okay to have a negative reaction to this, to be utterly pissed off and angry about your situation.
It's fine to be resentful and hate your family. If they didn't want to be hated then they could've spent the entire time you're alive not being...abusive.
And there is absolutely No Need to dress eldest daughter obligations as "a way to show love to the people she cares about." Fuck that lol. Dolores can love and want to care for her family without being forced to give up her freedom to care for her siblings bc her parents suck at being parents.
Without getting too deep into it, Dolores is the most personal OC I've ever made. Moreso than the Ryder twins who were already very personal OCs (but for a different time period in my life and a different set of trauma lmao). There are some parts in her backstory (which I shall eventually post) that are similar to things that happened to me irl. While my family isn't That bad compared to Dolores' own family, a lot of the feelings are still there lol.
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apompkwrites · 1 year
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hello I just finished Kingscholar's design and I got thinking about their possible ages + more about Shoenheit because I think my lack of focus on them is insulting to them so it's gonna be two in one
also, I've started calling Shoenheit Little Angel Idk why I think it has something to do with another anon but I don't know I've forgotten and I've started calling Clover Little Luck because lucky clover because 4-leaf clover yeah.
first, here are the ages I think would make sense,
Lil Rose: 15 Lil Luck: 16 Lil Lion: 15 Lil Hyena: 15 Lil Splatoon 2 Octo expansion: 15 Lil Eel: 15 Lil Scarab: 15 Lil Viper: 15 Lil Angel: 15 Lil Hunt: 15 Lil Flame: 17 (no younger than 16 but no older than 18, since Ortho says that he was 5 years old eleven years ago making him 16 and Idia is canonically 18 years old) Lil Dragon:???? Lil Bat:???????????????? (only Draconia and Lilia know for sure but they aren't willing to tell it and if you ask Vanrouge themself that question they'll most likely just say "older than you are" or just "it's rude to ask that, you know")
most of these are just because I assume that most of the Blacksheep are freshmen and most all of the freshmen in the game are 15 and those that are older than that are in another grade
ok onto Shoenheit I am using this as a reference
Vil has mentioned that his father is an actor who was very doting and while they haven't mentioned his mother (if he has one).
I imagine that the pressure wasn't put onto Shoenheit by their family but by the expectations of the public, I mean their father is a famous actor, and their brother is a famous actor and model. I imagine that both their father and brother doted on them when they were younger and still do now that they're older, but being born into this family means expectations from birth.
If their father was doting then I don't think that he would've forced his children into the acting industry however when Vil got into it the public it was expected the youngest one to eventually get into it and they felt almost required to when they reached an old enough age and then they did get into the industry and then all eyes were on them constantly but it was too late to go back.
Vil and (Name) got cast together in movies when they were younger to play siblings often at the start and I imagine that (Name) had a lot of fun in the beginning but then it just stopped being enjoyable over time and the news started criticizing them for not being as good as their brother and for not being perfect enough which doesn't help with self-esteem much and they started pushing themself to be perfect.
Vil and (Name) still are close, maybe not as close as they were as children but that just happens naturally as they're growing up, I feel like Vil knows that his sibling is a perfectionist but doesn't realize just how bad it is and how low their self-esteem is. If he knew I feel like he would do as much as he could to make them feel better about themself and even try to get them out of the spotlight, but because he doesn't realize he accidentally ends up making it worse and adding additional pressure of being perfect onto them.
(Name) knows Vil cares for them and just expresses it differently but sometimes they feel like it's just an act that Vil is just keeping up for public appearances and they feel embarrassed to ask for that reassurance from Vil that he does care.
I feel like (Name) also feels pressure to hate Neige as much as Vil does, they think it's irrational and kind of childish though they would probably never say that out loud. They feel like Neige could actually be their friend however they have to think of their brother whenever they interact with him.
I feel like both Little Hunt and Rook noticed the low self-esteem and I feel like while Little Hunt leaves Rook to compliment them since that's his thing, they try to focus on helping them to accept that they don't need to be perfect and it's okay to make mistakes, it's okay that they got a B and to ignore what people are saying about them, although it doesn't seem to work much pre-overblot as they're too critical of themself at the moment to listen and frankly they don't say this often but the Little Hunter is seriously concerned that it might devolve into something more serious.
Imagine Shoenheit has a habit of pushing people they're close to away because of an incident where they were criticized for having a not-good-enough friend and that friend ended up being bashed by tabloids leading to that friend wanting nothing to do with Shoenheit making them afraid of getting to close to people. Though it seems like Kingscholar pushes that idea a lot because they genuinely could care less what people say about them at this point, they literally ran away and people are sympathizing with the fucking elders they are way past caring (so they say).
I love the contrast between the ever-perfectionist Shoenheit and the Kingscholar that just gave up on caring what people thought of them and Kingscholar teaching them to loosen up a bit.
mhmmhm! most of the black sheep are pretty much around first year ages so about 15 :)
now onto schoenheit!(name).
the pressure is definitely a result of public pressure, something that a lot of child actors and celebrities face in real life! schoenheit!(name)'s fic is in the works rn but i do have it where there is a lot of pressure on them from the public but also a bit from vil, just because he seems to show his care in a way that can be easily misconstrued.
i do think they would have a lot of issues making friends because of the fame and attention their life brings. it's that sort of fear of also being friends with someone only to learn they were being used to get that same fame and attention. they just want someone who will appreciate them for them, not the schoenheit name.
and as always i love seeing the kingscholar and schoenheit ship make its return :D
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ambersky0319 · 9 months
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Alright I need to destress AND kickstart my memory of nnt so! Gonna do a rewatch and write out some thoughts (inspired by @spacehostilityy and their rewatch posts, go check 'em out! 💜)
Gonna be using the tag #amber rewatches nnt btw ^^
Also might talk about Eternal a bit idk yet but keep in mind the rewatch is also to help me write that 😅 also also doing each post by episode because I ramble far too much at every little thing.
Enjoy the rambles!
Masterpost
Episode 1
Honest to god forgot about those flying sting ray things, and especially forgot they're one of the first things we see in the show!
The art? For the opening sequence?? Is so cool????
Like those things that can shapeshift in the forest Diane hides in are in there? And MAYBE Gerheade? Idk about her but one of the fairies look a LOT like her/has a dress very similar to the one we see her wear AND she's bigger than the other fairies
And are there any demons with feathered wings besides the blue bird like things? Because if not there's an armored character with wings like the goddesses (who only have 1 pair of wings in the art) on the DEMON side. Probably just digging into this too deep, but it'd be REALLY cool if that was foreshadowing Estarossa/Mael
I really wish Elizabeth had muscles and wasn't CONSTANTLY portrayed as being physically pretty weak (at least that's how it comes across to me - in fights she's constantly told to run/is never given any chance TO fight physically). Because she literally can't be?
Like Elizabeth has been walking REAL FAR in that armor and it is DEFINITELY not light. Do you know the strength she'd have to have to move that? She also slumps in it and her footsteps are slow/small so it IS weighing her down but the fact that she can move in it as far as she has - and probably up and down hills too without falling - is impressive
Anyway reminder to myself to show Elizabeth being physically strong in my fics from now on. This is canon now and no one can fight me.
Also the shot of Elizabeth on the hill in the armor with the sun glaring through?? It's such a gorgeous shot??????
Meliodas may be a shit cook but damn is he a pretty good server
Like mans got the entire tavern full and he's serving it basically alone cause Hawk cleans the scraps doesn't serve people booze and every customer is pretty happy and having fun (until they have the food lol)
I FORGOT HAWKS TAG SAID STAR BOAR AAAAASJDJFJDHF
Wonder at which point in time the whole telling your children "if you keep misbehaving one of the seven deadly sins will come for you in armor that's rusty from blood" because it HAD to be in the past 10 years, right? Unless people were saying that while they were still respected holy knights in which case,,,, ooof
But I'd assume a little after Zaratras was first killed
But also I wouldn't put it past this dude maybe coming up with it to scare his children lol he seems like a tired dad type
And here comes all the parts I hate
The groping and sexualization
Elizabeth is like. Fucking 16. And Meliodas DEFINITELY knows that. And just. Ugh
I do like Elizabeth in this color tho- the dark blue really suits her! It's why her uniform post-Meliodas' death is my favorite of all her outfits
How many talking pigs are there in Britannia??? Because Hawk's from purgatory and I figured THAT was why he could talk
And many other people get super confused/shocked by Hawk talking so it can't be common
When Elizabeth said with the most dejected face "no" after he asked if her father got her a talking pig Meliodas looked momentarily like "that bitch."
Let's be real he would've totally gotten her a talking pig somehow
Then he instant switches the conversation to try making her feel better 💜💜💜💜
I'm sorry, the order of WHAT?
"the Order of the Beard of the Mountain Cat"
Is this a translation error? Because if not... I have found my new favorite order and I am no longer worried about naming things in my own stories with ridiculous things
(also btw I watch in Japanese with English subs)
Wonder how the Boar Hat got so popular in this town in a matter of days. Like the booze is good sure but how tf did people find that out and who was the first person courageous enough to go poking around
Yknow. I'm surprised they didn't believe Hawk was the rust knight. I mean, the people who reported it had to be drunk right? Who's to say they weren't so drunk they mistook a pig in armor as the rust knight?
Damn Elizabeth is pretty agile! She's running across roots and jumping over things pretty efficiently!
Like as clumsy as she is, she still got some skills that they NEVER UTILIZE!
Also YOU CAN SEE THE FRAME MELIODAS GRABS HER AND JUMPS WITH HER I- HOW DID I NEVER CATCH THAT???!!
THAT SONG IN THE BG UUGGHHGHGHG
THIS ONE. I LOVE THIS SONG SO MUCH. MY HEART.
I forget if we go over how Hawk and Meliodas met/how far we go into their backstory
Like is he in on Meliodas being a Sin/previous Holy Knight or does he really just not know? (because there's no way Meliodas isn't at least a little wary of Holy Knights himself, hiding for 10 years no matter how in plain sight he is)
I mean. Elizabeth. Sweetheart. Your dad IS laid up in bed sick. It just so happens that the holy knights ALSO arrested the rest of your family and refuse to get your dad help (I think? Cause Merlin has to magically treat the king for his illness later and I assume the holy knights would be wary of letting a doctor treat him. Maybe Vivian was treating him?)
Unless Elizabeth didn't know her father was sick. In which case. Oooooooof. What a reunion later if that's true
Meliodas 🤝 Zuko : "That's rough buddy"
I forget what crime Merlin committed, because Elizabeth says the Sins are "composed of seven terrible criminals" unless she's not actually a criminal when they formed at least
Ahhh that's right, Elizabeth probably wouldn't remember the sins well because they had to leave when she was 6-
Although I wonder if Meliodas also tried to make himself scarce around her once she got to the age where she would retain memories better to avoid the curse activating somehow? Because I have a shit memory but most people do tend to remember things, even vaguely, from the ages 3-6 (my friends and I all have our earliest memory around 2-3)
Meliodas stiff as a board falling when Twigo attacked lmao-
It does make me happy to see some knights in Britannia, even if they're not Holy Knights, try to confront Holy Knights. Sure they backtrack but like, who wouldn't in the face of that power?
Twigo got awesome eyesight to see Elizabeth's earring from that far, nevermind it's DESIGN. Like damn I got 20/20 vision but I doubt I'd ever SPOT that
I was gonna say how tf did Allioni realize it was Meliodas/how would he see Meliodas' tattoo but going back his shirt was already ripped in that general area so! Continuity win!
He be shitting his pants too lol man was holding the most dangerous Sin up and yelling in his face, and he's SEEN what the sins can do
Wonder if he retired after this. I wouldn't blame him
PERFECT TIME KICKING IN WOOOOOOO
Also Twigo recognizes his face? And says "how can you look exactly the same as you did that day" Was he the old guard that showed Allioni the Sins' carnage? Or was he a Holy Knight that survived that attack?
I guess he also could've just been an apprentice Holy Knight too that recognized him but asking that question to me hints that Twigo tried fighting the Sins with everyone else
Netsujou no Spectrum is such a great song too. The NNT soundtrack is amazing
Is the tavern a recent development for Meliodas??? What was he up to before getting the tavern but after going into hiding?
This also brings up how I really don't remember what time in his backstory he meets Hawk. I just remember they met in jail
This town is in the boonies Twigo how long do you expect this trio to wait until you can not only get a message to the capital, but receive reinforcements??
Mama Hawk best murderer
Oh nvm she missed :/
"Was our meeting chance or Providence?" man I wish I could say for sure it was chance and she got damn lucky (it'd be cool imo to explore how things would've gone if she'd found one of the others first) but. With the curse and all... There's a VERY good chance it was Providence
"I hope it's a real one this time" - Gilthunder
Okay so... When does he get in contact with King then? I'm pretty sure we SEE them interact around Ban escaping Baste but like. Gilthunder would have to know that's where King was before that. When do the Holy Knights find and make a deal with King?
And that's my thoughts going through Episode One!
Don't know how often I'm gonna do these, maybe after Wednesday I'll do a lot more? Idk we'll see
If you made it this far, you're awesome! Lmk who your favorite character is and I'll do a quick drawing of them for you if you want 💜
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ainomica · 1 year
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The way you perceive Daemon is very balanced and refreshing to see, considering all the bad takes this fandom produces. So thank you so much for that! 🧡
For me, the thing with all the headcanons that constantly gets on my nerves is the hypocrisy and the double standards.
So Daemon does two BASIC human things - gets a doctor and carries Laena's corpse to bed - and she's suddenly his true love, his favourite wife yada yada yada.
Like, this man was equally decent to his first wife, Rhea. No matter how much he notoriously disliked her and the marriage was enstranged, he still had the common decency to go and put her to rest, like any noble man would. Does this mean Rhea was the love of his life as well?
But Daemon staying always with Rhaenyra, even when she took to her bed in pregnancy (which husbands rarely did, IF ever, considering it was the women's domain), him making sure it's always safe for her, him being attentive, him being described as "her prince". All of this is interpreted by some as a false game? An act? Same with his courtship for her - which, let's be honest, Daemon went out of his way to woo her like he did with no one else. Him doing all those activities with her - when it's clear they had so much fun together - was what? Torture for him?
Him being married to her for a decade with no rumours or a trace of scandal or infidelity, simply being happy together, simply expecting an EIGHT child together when the war broke, was only him "tolerating" her?
Like, please. It's so obvious they hate Rhaenyra so much they are willing to invent things just to feed their own agenda. It's sickening. For them Daemon is an angel when he's with Laena and Nettles, but an absolute monster, unfeeling robot with Rhaenyra, because she was a "mAd, FaT hAg". Which is the complete opposite of what the canon tells us, but a very strange phenomenon lately.
"The way you perceive Daemon is very balanced and refreshing to see, considering all the bad takes this fandom produces. So thank you so much for that!.."-
Thank you!👍🏼🙏🏼 Honestly I say what I say because it makes most sense to me. Why complicate a character to the nth degree when the simplest interpretation is the best? I am not a Citadel maester who has to invent quotes, make up rumors, dig up lies and keep it together with some nuggets of truth such a way that the propaganda of "Targaryens are mad dynasty who were infestation on the country's rightful Andal rulers/customs/bliss free no magic time" actually sells!
I am a reader. Things have to make sense to me. Daemon has been consistently foiled against men who DO EXPLOIT men and women for power/for lust/for powertrip and each and every time he comes out as a good person while the other men are bad. That is how foiling works. This is why Otto and then Aemond/Daeron are his foils. Its basic textual reading skill 101
If they want to see a man who uses women and men , flattery and insult, pressure and manipulation to get the Throne, look no further than Otto. If they want to see a man who has subtlety of an elephant, greed so vast its only outstripped by his violence and psychopathy, who tramples over women, possibly sabotage his brother's line by fathering children people call his and won't hesitate to murder his own blood brothers? then look no further than Aemond. If you want to see caricature of a "rogue" prince who is charming to a fault but all it hides is vicious bloodlust and desire to trample over powerless people? Daeron is right there!
Daemon is just...a normal prince. Even the most heinous crime that is in his name is not even done by him. Its done by a guy who was hired by a guy who was hired by a girl who is buddy to Daemon. Its not farfetched to assume something got lost is Westerosi 4 step telephone. It certainly got lost in just one way street botched assassination attempt by Joffrey which resulted in Catelyn of all people with hand injured instead!
Assuming he wants power more than he has already is also laughable because beside marrying Rhaenyra at risk of death after being married twice and especially when Nyra DESPERATELY needed a child of her own that her own husband cannot provide, he literally has done nothing politically or personally to have any access to the Throne despite every reason to do so, since by absolute male primogeniture, he comes first before Nyra or any of the kids Vizzy in his goatheadedness had with Alicent.
Now the question is why is Daemon denied any romantic feelings for Nyra?? I think its not just about how Nyra is misogynistically hated although I think its a factor. In my opinion its two fold more
The bitterness people feel that as the winning and righteous side, the Blacks especially Daemon and Nyra failed to uphold the fairytale like standard of being nice people and hence by bitterness want to strip of them both of charitable interpretation of character. You must have heard about it before the show aired. Most people used to say that they 'stan no one' in the DOD conflict because "both sides are bad/unrootable" anyway. They think Nyra should have had been a stellar ruler with what little time and bad odds she was given and not have been this shrew like person and Daemon should have been a perfect prince who doesn't get implicated in murder /rape by assassinators of his step niece and nephew/ shouldn't be going around calling his first wife a b*tch etc. They fail to uphold a 'standard" hence they deserve to be maligned some more. I have seen it with Daenerys and Sansa. Its the same phenomenon.
It also has to do with Daemon himself. As I said before that Daemon , to them fails to meet certain expectations they imagine a Prince Charming archetype to be( and make no mistake he is supposed to be that archetype- a dashing, beautiful and slightly dangerous prince, who fights duels for your hand and rescues you from unwanted marriages?yeah sounds like it) , but its also combined with casual accepted online misandry as well. Especially the shippy side of the fandom. I have extensive experience in both mlm and mlw fandom that they tend to DEHUMANIZE the male love interest /second protagonist if they think he is being source of distress or not being the provider of conflictless love right away to the female character or the shou ! It doesn't matter what the context is. To them if a male character is not being lovable he is just useless and deserves all kinds of bad faith interpretation and hate! Its most notable in show oriented fandom but book fandom is guilty as well since there are rumors they take it as true, since Daemon is not beside Nyra and was being nice to a kid while away and hence was not comforting Nyra, so he deserves to be labelled as a woman using cheater in their frustration instead....
My guy, he is a MAIN CHARACTER, even side characters deserve better than this tantrum-esque screeching. This is why Harwin , this barely any personality, mentioned wrt to his role as the unmarried father to Nyra's first three children , suddenly rose to popularity as a legit contender as a guy who Nyra didn't mutually use for her political stability but as a LOVE INTEREST, who she genuinely loved! ( the show also helped because what even Harwin did there beside looking hot and besotted and QUITE before he died without pissing off Nyra or the audience? Oh yeah, nothing) . Harwin didn't make Nyra cry , or had any impact on Nyra whatsoever and in true Anglo fandom fashion it gave their imagination leave to insert fanon of love and affection that never existed to make up for Daemon's "lack of love" they also imagined in their anger🤡
Does it matter to them that in the books Nyra refused to have any more kids with him the MOMENT Daemon came back in continent with his wife ?? NO. Nothing matters beside their emotions and maladapted discomforts driving how they see the story. Then passing it off as a neutral/legitimate take on things.
Its a common trope that people tend to like side characters that love the main characters for no reason whatsoever. This is why in most fanfics everyone is bestie with the character writer likes obviously. They tend to lump Daemon in with similar "side" role in Nyra's story as well and when he does something that makes Nyra unhappy or against her, he is "not doing his role right" . Most of the "Daemon loved Laena actually/He cheated on Nyra with Myseria/Nettles" also claim to be Daemyra shippers or neutral. You guys must have seen those.
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pinkxtrauma · 8 months
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@blueheartedmayor send: Another evening, another formal occasion the younger Brooks twin was dragged to. This time was... the opening of a women's fashion boutique? Why did his parents want to go to this? Why did he have to go to this? All he could do was keep to the side and find excuses to slip under the radar. The years in university had helped with showing he didn't need to do what was expected of him.
While taking a long-winded trip to return an empty glass to a table, he spotted a young woman sitting to the side. There was no ignoring her body language - she was in the same boat as he was. If he could start a conversation, even a fake one, then maybe he could get both of them out of a predicament.
"Excuse me?" The young lawyer was mindful of how he approached. He wanted to try and make her feel like they were speaking on equal terms. "If I may be so bold... May I assume that you have also been forced to attend this event? And, if so, may I sit with you so we can both avoid awkward conversations?" (blueheartedmayor, have a babey from the 1920s)
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She hated these things.
She hated spending time with her family. She hated being taken away from book reading in her apartment with her flat. However, with her father very generiously paying for her flat to keep her on his side, she was forced into these things constantly.
Kiran often sat to the side. It would be sooner or later before some man would introduce himself. This was why she was invited. Her father was desperate for her to marry as it already looked terrible that she was 25 and not interested in marrying.
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She drank very lightly off to the side and enjoyed idle conversation. She was tempted to sneak off until she spotted another man approach her. And here it comes...
Kiran misinterputed his intentions immediately and put her guard up at the approach of the man.
"Hmm.."
It might have looked at if she was trying to be rude or dismissive but she just didnt' trust mens intentions at these parties.
"Yes. It is my fathers party so naturally yes, I am to attend," She said and then regarded the next set of questions, "If you would like to sit with me, It would be rude to say no..." She gestured to the chair next to her.
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lostonehero · 6 months
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Preview to what I'm working on
Delicious dramatic irony
I'm nowhere done with this chapter. I'm only just passing 10k words, so I have a tease
Jen leans back in the chair on the porch and sighs, sipping her tea as she watches her son talk to Cynthia. "Good morning, Jackie. Have a seat."
Jackie smiles and takes a seat next to Jen. "It is a nice brisk morning. I assume you know why we're here early."
"I do, but it doesn't matter. I was expecting William here at this time with his young ones. I know he's been worrying about his eldest." Jen sighs. "Things are complicated, and even with my future knowledge, I don't know the true extent of what they went through. I just know of the major events. I was back in Texas for the major stuff. I wasn't strong enough to leave the first time around, I just wanted the best for my boy."
Jackie sighs. "I know that feeling all too well." She leans back. "My own son has such a heavy burden on his shoulders with what happened, and he tried to stop it but wasn't strong enough."
"He shouldn't blame himself." Jen hums. "He has made it this far, and he should be able to relax."
"He acts more like an adult than the child he should be." Jackie frowns. "He puts on a good act of playing carefree."
Jen nods. "I fear that none of them are totally settled in and ready to truly relax again. They are just kids. Even if it's a second time, they should be allowed to enjoy it."
"It's as if he is constantly ready for something bad, and it reminds me of my own father with his fear of the camps." Jackie frowns.
Henry hums and steps outside. The sound of shouting is heard before he shuts the door. "The rest of the kids are awake."
Jen snickers. "Did you wake them?"
"I did no such thing." Henry huffs. "Micheal had a nightmare and woke the others. I'm worried about them, both rushed to his side holding him down ao he wouldn't harm himself." He looks away. "Haven't seen that in a while."
Jen grimaced his smile, lost to disgust and worry. "Are they alright?"
"They told me to leave, and so I did." Henry sighs, leaning over the railing. "Does your boy get nightmares like that, Jackie?"
Jackie pauses and shakes her head. "He's quiet, too quiet like he trained himself to not make noise once the sun goes down." She sighs. "I have to know what happened for my own sanity. At this point, they shouldn't go through this alone."
Henry frowns. "It's not a wonder why William has been so on edge about Micheal. The poor kid was trying to tear himself open." He shudders. "Not exactly a good scene to walk in on."
Jen looks away. "I don't know what happened to him." She sighs. "All I know is that he went missing after working at Circus Baby's, and that's about that. I wasn't exactly focused on his well-being at the time, I honestly didn't consider him family like you did Hen."
Henry looks at his sister and raises a brow. "When was this?"
"89, I believe." Jen puts her empty mug down. "However, things weren't exactly good before that, but that isn't my place to say. Henry, you have to understand in my future from where I came from. You were a much different man than you are now." She gets up, taking the mug.
Henry frowns. "You keep saying that, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
Jen looks away from her brother and opens the back door. "I'm just glad it didn't happen this time." She sighs and heads inside, shutting the door.
Jackie motions for Henry to sit. "I don't think she is keeping it from you for your sake but for her own mental wellbeing, but I'm not a therapist or a psychologist."
Henry sits next to her, crossing his arms. "I just fear I might have hurt her before or er in her timeline." He sighs. "They keep dancing around the issue as if the truth would break me, and I don't understand what could have been that bad for them to think that."
Jackie sighs. "Maybe if we knew you wouldn't say that."
"But I don't know, and I hate to see them struggle against something we can't help them with." Henry frowns. "Charlie's my baby girl, and I just want to help her, and Micheal is like a son I never had. I just want to help them heal."
Jackie nods. "They will tell us hopefully soon."
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candythepuppy · 2 months
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Insanely basic tips for writing engaging stories:
Since all my dead majestic monsters, my scrigily scraggles, seem to wanna know how I keep my stories interesting, I have here my ultimate writing weapon! The writing advice to topple ALL writing advice!
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Yeah, that's literally it.
I will admit this is no original find of mine. In fact, this basic tip has been in the minds of humans since the conception of story-telling. Heck, the chances you have heard about the importance of conflict are higher than my chances of finding true love some day. How to best implement this, however, may not be so well known. Which is why that will be the topic for the rest of this post.
Please understand: conflict is NOT just punching and kicking. Physical fighting is merely a branch of conflict, often used as a means to resolve the extreme cases. Conflict can be as big as a galactic war or as small as the struggle in someone's mind as they debate getting out of bed. Conflict is so constant in our every day lives that we often overlook it.
0.5. Pay more attention to your own life and pinpoint when and where conflict both big and small make an appearance. You can use these for inspiration.
A conflict can be broken into three major parts. 1: the people involved (May and her little brother) 2: the problem (May's little brother is hungry, but he just ate) 3: the resolution (May either gives her brother more food or tells him to suck it up)
THE PEOPLE INVOLVED:
1. Brother/sister, mother/father, weird homeless drunk/depressed clown; it is important to establish who is involved. Who are these people, exactly? What do they want and how does it relate to the problem and other people involved?
2. Neither character has to be "good" or "bad" for this to work. In fact, it makes a story all the more interesting when the issue, as well as the people involved exist more in a gray area. Makes it even more interesting when considering who is right and/or who will win. Or, even if we are writing a typical Batman V. Joker comic, looking at both characters to see exactly why these two would be so inclined to fight is a great way to set up a scene. The Joker wants to destroy Gothem, not only because he is evil, but because he believes it is what Gothem deserves for being corrupt, V. Batman, who wants to protect Gothem, not just because he is good, but because even though he see the corruption, he likes to believe that with a little help, it can and will change for the better. What I am trying to say is that, with this in mind, not every, or ANY problem has to be so black and white. So easy to tell who is in the right and who is in the wrong. Same goes for the characters involved.
3. Make their relationships interesting, please. If this is their first time meeting, make that matter. Involve conflict the moment they meet. Doesn't have to be THE conflict, but it would be useful to tie even the small stuff into the over arcing conflict between them.
Example: two people bump into each other on a bus. Both immediately think the other is rude or something. Instant negative connotation makes for more interesting first-meets... in my humble opinion. Bonus If this is a reoccurring problem for the two. Throughout the story, they are constantly assuming the worst out of the other, which plays into the main conflict centering around them being unable to trust one another.
If the people involved have known each other for a long time, give them a long, complicated history together. Even if they have always been friends, make it obvious that they have both seen each other at their worst, and staying friends hasn't always been easy. Even something as simple and wholesome as an unofficial adopting should have some iffy matter mixed in, such as lies about what one member does for a living, what another member did in the past that might affect the people around them, or heck, even something stupid like one liking BEANS and the other absolutely hating them!
#Example: May is a highschool student put in charge of her kid brother, Johnny. Both of their parents are so busy that she is left to take care of him most of the time. This means that his needs often overshadow her own needs, wants, and personal life. This might leave her a bit resentful, angry even at her little brother for constantly being so needy. It doesn't help that Johnny is always annoying her. Johnny, on the other hand, is just your average boy. He has a hard time making friends at his daycare, and so likes to bother his sister a lot for her attention. He doesn't get along with her very much, though, because she is always grumpy and snappy at him. But at the same time he knows how much he needs her help. So, he'll often try to do things on his own and mess up, causing even bigger problems. Suffice to say, their relationship is not very healthy by the time 'the problem' comes around. (This example is a bit long, but I hope you get the point. Detailed information like this, even if you never end up writing any of it down, is key to setting up a good conflict.)
THE PROBLEM:
1. Please please please please PLEASE don't make it boring!
"but candy!" I hear you say in a comically high pitch voice full of grammatical mistake. "my conflict isn't boring, because it is about two kids saving the world!" News flash, that IS boring! Unless you're obsessed with the planet, no one gives a crap about the world itself! (There's a reason climate activists fail so miserably when it comes to branding their cause to the general public. The issue is just too big and vague for the average person to care about.) It's the people and things existing ON it that really matter!
Take a moment to think about the things people really care about. Something most people can't imagine living happily without. Okay? Now, take that thing away. Suddenly, you have characters going from "oh no, the planet" to "OH NO, MY DELUXE 360 HXD HERSHEY'S KISS™" in an instant. This is why I personally never make my conflicts too huge, and if I do, it's more about the characters involved and what they will lose than the issue itself. Bonus If the issue is directly related to the characters in a deeply personal way. It doesn't have to be just one problem either. The more, the merrier, I always say!
Example: someone wants, no, NEEDS to make amends with a loved one they hurt long ago, but have been putting it off for years. Now that the problem, a terminal illness said to kill them within a few months comes about, they have that push they need. In this case, both the external and internal problems in this person's life combine to create one inciting incident. Multiple problems for this character to overcome/deal with.
2. There's a reason watching a kid getting relentlessly beaten up just isn't fun, narratively speaking. Depending on the story, it can work, but I have found that for the majority of conflicts, it is essential for both parties to be at risk. For both sides to feel like both the bully and the kid getting bullied.
Both parties need to be on the verge of losing something good or gaining something bad. Even if it's as simple as one man losing his pride v. another man losing his. (btw, if it's about something like pride, make sure to back that up with information regarding why their pride is so important to them) That way, the conflict feels that much more real and engaging. Even following the superhero comic book format, you need to think about what is at stake for the villain here as well as what is at stake for the hero? How exactly would losing to the hero impact the villain negatively, so much so that it is his goal to avoid it? Be creative about it too!
3. This was originally going to be my first tip just because of how important it is, but ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ oh well.
Remember to tie these points of conflict into one main conflict/theme.
Example: though my main character in one of my books has MANY enemies -- literally more than half the cast have tried to kill her at some point -- that isn't the main conflict here. Rather, it is all on HER. Will her naturally eViL inclined powers turn her into the villain? Will the fact that her DAD is a villain lead her to becoming one too? (so creative, I know. It was designed as a spoof of a common trope turned super existential.) Will her questionable morals despite always trying to do the right thing turn her into a villain? Will her inherent selfishness turned desire to help people out of spite eventually lead to her downfall? Is her purity slowly rotting at the core thanks to her own actions and mistakes, or those of others? Has she always secretly been evil, but has always worn a shell of purity to protect herself emotionally, or has she turned into this monster without even realizing it slowly over time?.. Literally every single character, action, problem, and motive all on some degree have to do with judging the MC for her villain potential. Even her best friends are not safe from this, constantly having to ask themselves why she is hiding so much from them, what her true motives are for everything she does, and whether or not that ties into her potential for corruption in the near future. Because, at the end of the day, this is a story about morals, the price of redemption, what it even means to BE redeemed and to NEED redemption, and the terrifyingly blurred line between good and evil. Because of that, it is crucial that every problem, both big and small, somehow has to do with these major themes/conflicts.
#Example: Even though Johnny just ate, he is once again asking for May's financial support. May doesn't want to. Making Johnny more food would mean taking time out of her own precious free time with her friends. Meanwhile, Johnny is hungry, and his sister ignoring that only proves to him how little she cares. He already feels alone and like nothing but a burden as it is, so seeing that his sister cares really matters to him. But, at the same time, May needs to feel like she matters too. Like she is her own person; not just her parents nanny working an entire job for free. Both of them struggle with their individuality, self worth, and this co-reliant relationship the two have been trapped into. And there seems to be no easy way out where either party truly wins.
THE RESOLUTION:
This isn't as simple as the end to a story. Oh, nononononoNO! This process is perhaps the most complicated of them all, because not only are you having to acknowledge the complexities of the situation, the characters within it, and the many ways this can go very...VERY wrong, it is also where you have to make the hard decision and decide who wins. And if you're a writer like me who likes to tackle insanely complex, multi-faceted problems that simply don't have one easy answer, this process may be even harder.
1. Recall and set in stone why the conflict started in the first place. Every problem has a source, even if that source is insanely complicated. Try your best to simplify that beginning point into one thread of action. Something tangible, which the characters can interact with and solve later. (Interaction includes dialogue.)
2. Bring the characters' arcs around to make them reflect on this origin of their problems. Depending on the character, they may either decide to fix the problem from there, or ignore it and march on stubbornly. The ladder are usually the villainous lost causes too fixated on their goals to care about a real fix once one is finally found. You could honestly do a million different things in this stage. Such as having characters helping other characters; convincing them of the truth, fighting over said truth, and possibly even dying for said truth. But, what really matters is that the characters realize there IS a solution to this problem, and they have the power to fix it.
3. And finally, resolve the issue.
Depending on the problem, this is where either the Death Star blows up, the teenagers agree to poison themselves so they won't have to kill each other, or the boy finally builds up the courage to ask his crush out.
What is important is that, by the end, we KNOW the main issue has been resolved. Yes, it might just be one battle won at the beginning of a long war yet to come. Yes, there might still be years of living out an honorable life before being forgiven. And yes, there's a chance they could break up in the future... But, what matters is this little victory. THIS small moment, this miniscule blip in time when the issue we as readers/viewers have been led to care so much about finally sees an end. When we can all sigh in relief.
In the grand scheme of things, that conflict was nothing and it meant nothing. Not compared to the billions of years before us and the billions after us. Like any problem you may face in your teens that was super important back then, but now is just a fading memory, it was just one small step in the long walk of life. Of existence.
You want to know why conflict has existed in stories as long as it has? Because even the first humans faced problems...just like us. And the humans a thousand years from now will continue to face the exact same problems every single day.
What's so great about conflict is what we can learn from it. It's like a language all on its own. A universal language at that. And through the power of story-telling, we can hope to share some of that wisdom with those who will come after us. We can share some of ourselves with those who stand with us today. Because we're walking through life together. And we can all use a little story every now and then to encourage us; to help us know what to do in that next step.
That is why conflict matters.
And why it always will.
#Example: Though May and Johnny start off arguing, yelling, and screaming at each other, through this they finally open up. They finally word the way they feel, why that is so, and what their desires truly are. Truth is they love each other. They want to live happily together, but also realize and accept that pretending to have the perfect bond is pointless. Pretending that they have control over their lives is pointless as well. What they can control, however, is how they treat each other. May can be less rude, and Johnny can be less annoying. They finally decide to do with what they can, using what they have control over to make their lives together just a little bit better than how they were before.
And, yes. Johnny gets that snack. And May, though a tad late, gets to hang out with her friends too.
Because, though conflict is what holds the story together, what matters just as much is how it is resolved. Just like with May and Johnny, every single story out there is just as much held together by the love between the characters as it is the hate between them. Perhaps even more. Because love is the reason they were willing to fight such a conflict in the first place.
I CANNOT EXAGGERATE THIS ENOUGH, THOUGH. IF YOUR MC IS NOT IN A CONSTANT STATE OF PERIL, THE AUDIENCE WILL DROP IT. I REPEAT. THE AUDIENCE WILL DROP IT.
That being said, it is also a delicate balancing act. Give your MC time to breathe, but while that is happening, simultaneously build up the next big threat. Once you get good enough at doing that, you can start to juggle multiple sources of conflict at once. All dipping and weaving in and out of the story like a beautiful dance, each character bringing their own complex relationship + problems with the MC every time they interact, all slowly building and building until these smaller conflicts merge into one BIG problem the MC now has to face.
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paperclipcluster · 2 years
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i’m going to be totally honest with you guys. i don’t want to do basketball next year. i don’t even want to do basketball now. sure maybe i do have a bit of fun, but i don’t want to play anymore. i just want to focus on doing things i know i enjoy for sure. i’m so tired of the constant mix of emotions and feedback i get from people. i’m so done with it all. i told my mom that i didn’t want to play basketball next year, and that once summer hit i was going to stop playing for the outside team because it would be pointless to waste coach A’s time and my own time putting in the work if i know for sure that i’m not going to play next year. i told my mom this hoping that it would be just something between us, but i’m pretty sure she told my dad. and that made me mad. i wasn’t ready to tell him yet, i already knew he would be disappointed. and i hate that just because i am improving that it means i should continue playing next year. i’m not improving super fast, and i wont improve far enough to compete next year anyway. id hate to put in all this work for nothing and then not even make the team next year. id just look stupid. i was content with my decision to not play next year, i was looking forward to having free time before and after school to join clubs or work or volunteer or something. but i can’t have that if i’m doing basketball in and out of school. it’s so annoying to say the least. and since my mom told my dad, he constantly asks me whether or not i had fun at the game or had fun at practice and it’s like yes i did, but that doesn’t mean i’m always going to have fun. i don’t like the pressure of having to be good, or at least trying to keep up with the other girls. i know a lot of my dislike for basketball comes from the fact that i’m not at the same level as the other girls, and that i’m barely able to keep up and compete with them. sure if i was up to par then maybe i’d have more fun, but i’m not. i hate the constant anxiety i feel before games and before practice on whether or not i can keep up or if i’ll just make a fool of myself. i hate that. but i can’t say anything because i don’t think anyone in my family would understand. and it’s so frustrating.
another thing. i’m not very sociable right? so i’m not very included with the girls in my team. i’m more on the quiet side and i don’t know how to make friends easily. so i’m not friends with most of the girls on my team except for L, Z, and A. and my parents have noticed, and so has my brother, and so when my decision to not play basketball came to topic my brother and father automatically assumed it was because of my isolation on the team. but it’s not. they’re not deliberately leaving me out. or maybe they are. but i seclude myself on my own. i choose to not socialize with them on my own. and sure there’s a couple girls that i feel like maybe i can talk to like K, AN, and AV, and sometimes O and jo. but like i’m not exactly friends with them. and that’s ok. i don’t mind at all. it’s a two way thing, i don’t talk to them and they don’t talk to me. it would be one thing if they were not including me and just me, but that’s not the issue. they’re not why i don’t want to play basketball anymore, because frankly i’m by myself most of the time anyways. isolation doesn’t bother me. i like being alone more than i enjoy being included. i literally don’t mind at all, and it bothered me a lot that my both my brother and father saw that and completely bypassed my own un-enjoyment for the game to blame the issue on that reason. they asked me if that’s why i didn’t want to play. but it’s not. i know they felt sorry for me this past game because A, Z, and L, all weren’t there. so i was by myself most of the time or i was sitting with my family in between games. it bothers me more that they think i’m some kind of sad loser who can’t make friends with the girls on her team than it does being a sad loser who can’t make friends on her team.
i hate the topic of basketball coming up. because no matter what it’s always to push me. nobody ever takes what i feel into consideration. and that’s mostly my fault for not speaking up, but i can’t really speak up about anything or i automatically start crying. and it sucks because it makes me feel stupid crying over basketball. i hate being or looking dramatic. i wish i could just say everything i’ve typed here to someone but i cant. i physically can’t. it’s too hard to even try. i just wish i could look my father in the face and tell him confidently that i’m not playing basketball anymore. i hate that this decision isn’t mine alone. everybody wants to put their own input on what they think i should do and i hate it. i was going to try and open up to my sister about this and i said “i’m not going to play basketball next year” and she automatically was like “what???” “but you have to” and that just made me mad. the one person i’ve dying to open up to and have the chance to explain my side and my feelings just shut me down with the same thing i’ve been hearing from everyone. it’s so annoying that everyone is against me. everyone is pro basketball and i’m the only one that’s pro what i want. nobody even cares about what i feel, all they care about is basketball basketball basketball. when does this stop? at what extent does basketball stay the priority? maybe if i do cry then they’ll finally understand the emotional turmoil ive been dealing with over the stupidest thing ever. basketball isn’t life. by making the decision to stop playing that doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. i’m not planning on playing in college and i never was. not that i ever stood a chance but still. my dad used that as a reason. he said “it won’t be as easy to play in college so it’s best to play and have fun now during your high school years, and maybe you could if you work hard enough” (not exact but something along the lines of that. and like yea true, that’s a good motivation for someone who enjoys playing and will have fun playing in high school but that person is not me. the way i see it, i’m not going to play in college so what would be the point on continuing to play especially if i’m not having fun. there is no point. and sure maybe i will regret it and look back on my high school years later in life and wish i had kept playing, but at the moment it’s not what i want. i hand an ok 2 years of high school basketball, and honestly that’s all i need. i don’t want anymore.
i found it very ironic how coach A told me today that i had the will to keep playing. that he could tell i wanted to be better. but that’s a complete lie. the whole time he was working 1 on 1 with me today i just wanted to blurt out that i actually didn’t want to play anymore. he kept trying to motivate me and whatnot but it’s not working. and it’s funny cause he thinks it is. he said i had the will to continue playing, but it’s not that i have a passion or desire to be better in basketball, that’s just how i commit to things. i will always give my all and i’m not going to outwardly complain about something. everything i think and feel is always kept inside. so yea, i will work hard but that’s in everything. or maybe he was just saying that to help motivate me, and now i sound stupid, but still.
on top of all this, the fact that everyone keeps bringing up that i’m so far behind everyone else is also a huge turnoff of basketball for me. i can’t tell you how many times coach A said that i should be much better than i already am today, and it took everything in me not to cry. i’m pretty sure he could tell that i wanted to. my eyes were getting all watery every single second, but hopefully he just assumed that’s my natural state or something, but he’s not that dumb so. i’m so sick and tired of hearing how bad i am. and it’s even worse when people try to convince me that i did good. when they tell me i’m bad at least i know their being honest, but it’s obvious they’re lying when they say i do good. like that period of time when basketball season ended at school and my parents kept trying to convince basically everyone that i was just as good as everyone else and that i was done wrong by the coaches. i hates that part of basketball season more than i did sitting on the bench. i knew i belong on the bench, i’m not an idiot. i know i’m far behind everyone else. but the fact that my parents kept saying that made me feel stupid, it made me feel like everyone else was going to think i was cocky or that i thought i was just as good as everyone else.
honestly, overall i think basketball has become a bigger problem for me that it’ll ever be fun. the time for me to actually enjoy it has past. there’s too much pressure to be good. and i understand why. it’s a competitive sport and not everyone can make the cut. and i’m completely fine sitting in the bleachers and cheering A, Z, and L on. id prefer that actually. i just wish that i didn’t feel so obligated to please everyone and keep playing. i don’t have to desire to play anymore. and i don’t want to try and find it. i don’t want to play anymore and i’m not going to play anymore. this is my decision and it’s what i want. everyone keeps saying that it’s my choice if i want to play and although it doesn’t feel like it, i have to realize that is it ultimately up to me. no matter how anyone else feels this is my decision. and i need to take charge. i’m not going to force myself to stick with it just because everyone is rooting for basketball. i only need my own self on my side, because it’s only my decision that truly matters. i’m not playing next year, and i’m not playing during the summer. that’s my final say on this matter. no further input is needed, and i will not be persuaded. this is it. i have finally made up my mind. no matter what this last month entails i will not be playing next year, simply because i don’t want to.
i’m glad to have finally gotten to say what i’ve wanted. and i’m glad to have finally come to a clear decision. one i know i’m happy with. thank you and goodnight. all i have to do is make it through this final month of torture and i’ll finally be free.
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crazycookiecrumbles · 2 years
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Always
A/N:  Feedback. Reblogs appreciated, thanks!
Pairings/Characters: Peter Parker x Reader (Andrew Garfield’s Peter)
Warnings: Swearing, daddy issues, violence, possible character death, Tony being annoying
Summary: Hate was a strong word, so it was safe to say that Obadiah Stane despised you.
This is definitely post-college, adult Spider-Man
Previous Chapter: The Stark Playbook
WC: 5,230
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Your life was now an annoying hell. All those schools that had rejected you were blowing up your phone constantly, trying to entice you to say that you weren’t rejected, but that you just didn’t want to go so that they wouldn’t look bad for taking bribes and denying a promising student entrance to their school. Even the many, many companies that you had applied to were scrambling now, trying to offer you positions within their company so they could say they had a living, breathing Stark in their midsts. Your current place of business? Well, their stock skyrocketed and was definitely leaving that ‘startup’ status with every passing second.
The responsible thing for a person to do would have been to send those SHIELD guys a very direct e-mail containing all of Obadiah’s misdeeds, and how he was engaged in trade with terrorists against the very people the company was supposed to be supporting and keeping safe with their weaponry.  The responsible thing would have been to send this to the proper authorities to deal with things quickly and quietly.
You didn’t really do the responsible thing.
You, a pretend anonymous source, proceeded to float this around on the internet and label Obadiah Stane as public enemy number one. It was an act laced with petty intent. Your father would be proud. Your mother, on the other hand?
“Three hours with your father and you turn into him,” She whined as she stood behind you. You were in her apartment, head on the table listening to her go on and on for the past hour on how you were making things worse. After hitting the buzzer for the lobby door, she draped her body over yours, head resting on top of your head as she sighed dramatically, grabbed your head, and started rocking the two of you side to side, which kind of felt like she was trying to decorate the table with your face. “I worked so hard to get the Stark out of those genes.”
“Mom,” you whined. “Stop! I think this is considered smothering in at least five states.”
“Smothering with love,” she replied as the front door opened to reveal Peter walking in with a black plastic bag. “Peter, is this murder?”
“Uh,” Peter stopped short and stared at the two of you for a moment. “With love?”
“See?” Rosa smirked and got off of you, moving to take the bag from Peter. “Thank you for running to the store for me, Peter. That was very sweet of you.”
“Well, you said those agents always get the wrong thing. I didn’t mind getting you what you needed,” he replied as he sat down next to you. “Is she dead?”
“She basically said I’m too much like my dad,” you sat up and looked at Peter who was now looking at the ceiling. “What’s that face, young man?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m just looking at this crown molding and really admiring it,” Peter lied as he stared up. “I mean, white? It’s so crisp and clean. Is that eggshell? Bright white?”
Rosa chuckled to herself as she placed a snack on the table for the two of you, “See that? He agrees.”
You whined loudly as Peter poured you a drink and placed the glass in front of you, “Why am I here, again?”
“You wanted my opinion on apartments,” Rosa said as she sat down beside you and swore as she heard her phone ringing. “Shit. Sorry. I need to grab that, it might be my client for later. Do you mind?”
You waved your hand. Rosa took her phone and went to her bedroom to take the call while Peter scooted closer to you and rested his head on your shoulder.
“Hear anything from Tony?” He asked quietly.
You shook your head, “Not a word. Happy called to make sure I was okay. Apparently, since they hadn’t heard from me for a week, they assumed I was dead.”
“That’ll do it,” Peter nodded. “They find Obadiah?”
“Nope. You find the suit?”
“Nope,” Peter cleared his throat. “How mad do you think your dad is?”
You shrugged, “Who cares?”
“Not you, according to your lies,” Peter whispered to you, narrowly missing the elbow you threw to his gut. He chuckled and nuzzled your neck with the tip of his nose, giggling to himself when your face scrunched up and you moved away because it tickled too much.
“I’m sorry, guys,” Rosa said as she rushed out of the bedroom and grabbed her purse. “My client needs to change their appointment and I have to leave now. Are you guys okay to wait about an hour, maybe two?”
“Sure,” Peter said. “But is it safe for you to go?”
“Oh, those lazy ass agents are going with me. It’s the least they can do since they seem to screw everything else up. Bye, bye!” She quickly kissed you and Peter on your cheeks before rushing out the apartment.
You were now stuck in your mom’s apartment alone with your boyfriend with a crazed lunatic out there, completely lost in the wind. You swore that you didn’t matter at this point. The fight was now between Tony and Obadiah. You had no stake, shares, nothing in the company.  Okay. Maybe you did release all his misdoings to the public, but, I mean. That could have just as easily been Tony, right?
You looked to Peter who was giving you a mischievous grin. He scooted closer to you, pulling your chair towards him and spreading his legs so they went around your seat. Laughing, you tried moving away, but Peter grabbed your biceps and pulled you close to pepper your neck with lots of little soft kisses, his lips curling into a grin as he listened to you shriek with laughter.
“Peter, please!” You laughed. “This isn’t fair, it’s cheating!”
“Not sure what you’re talking about, sweetheart, I’m just showing you how much I love you,” he said as he finally relented and rested his head on the back of the chair while he gazed at you. “You know, the usual.”
You rolled your eyes, “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“That I do,” you mumbled and leaned down to softly press your lips against his. Pulling away, you bit your lip and studied him.
“What, what’s that face?” Peter frowned. “That’s your weird little thinking face.”
“It’s not weird!”
“It gets weird when you pair it with you being hungry.”
You pouted while he laughed at you. Shaking your head, you continued, “Should I check on him? Just in case?”
“Oh, no somebody wants to check on the dad they don’t care about?”
“Want is a strong word. I was just — I wasn’t being considerate. I’m doing it for self-preservation reasons.”
“Uh-huh,” Peter smirked knowingly. “Call. What’s the harm, right?”
You nodded. You didn’t have Tony’s number, but you had Happy’s, and you knew he was around Tony far more often than usual given the current situation. You gave him a call. It rang and rang, but no answer. You tried to hide how disappointed you were by just shrugging and putting the phone away, but Peter could see right through the act. He frowned a little for you, and rubbed your back soothingly before muttering that Tony was fine. 
Naturally, you proclaimed you didn’t care. 
To get your mind off of this, you and Peter took to watching a movie together. You curled up on her sofa, ate snacks, and waited for Rosa’s return before the three of you looked at apartments together. With a few in mind, and some appointments in place, you said goodbye to your mom and were on your way home.
But, of course, you couldn’t forget the SHIELD agents that were following your every move. It even made being Spider-Man a little tricky for Peter. But, to be honest, he didn’t mind the challenge. It was almost like an extra activity for him to do, like he was playing ‘hide from the agents.’ You admired him for that. He made the best out this insane situation.
The car you were in turned down a quiet block, and Peter’s spider senses when off immediately. His eyes widened as he muttered for you to grab your stun gun before leaning forward and telling the driver not to go down this block, but it was too late. You were going down the block, and up ahead a black SUV pulled out from the parking lot just a few meters down.
Meanwhile, you had been searching your purse for your stun gun. It was always in the same exact spot, same pocket, never any issue, but you couldn’t find it today. You panicked as you kept searching and turned your purse inside out in the car. As you were searching through the bag, you remembered how you took your stun gun out in the middle of the night in the hotel when you heard Tony was in trouble.
And you left in that room.
You haven’t had it since that night. You completely forgot you chucked it at an assassin’s head and left it behind. All this time you thought you had your favorite, trusty little stun gun, and you didn’t.
“Peter, I don’t have it. I lost it,” you said quickly.
Peter swore. Before he could act, your boyfriend’s eyes were suddenly bloodshot. He slumped backwards in his seat, veins bulging and appearing blue as his waterline was red-rimmed. Blood fell from his ears as he lay there absolutely still.
“Peter!” You shouted and went to check on him, but suddenly a device flew into the window. It was a small cylinder with glowing blue lights. The second you noticed it, you too fell back into your seat in the same position as Peter, bulging blue veins, watery, red-rimmed eyes, and blood dripping down from your ears. 
Suddenly a gunshot rang out, but you couldn’t see it. Only Peter could see, and lay helplessly, as a bullet went through the windshield and struck the SHIELD agent in the center of his forehead. Peter wanted to scream. He was trapped in his own body and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was lay there helplessly, What was going to happen to you? The worst he feared was that he’d have to watch you die. He couldn’t do that. Not again. Not to another person he loved. He didn’t think he was strong enough to deal with that.
Suddenly, the passenger side door opened next to you. Peter couldn’t even scream. All he could do was look as Obadiah lowered his head and looked inside the car, a smirk on his face, earplugs in place to avoid whatever it was that was hurting the two of them.
“Don’t panic, kids. It’s just a paralytic, it’ll be gone in about fifteen minutes, give or take.” Obadiah turned you over so you were facedown on the seat, making direct eye contact with Peter as he yanked your hands behind your back and pulled out a zip tie. “You know. I was going to leave you alone. I thought that all I really needed was Tony, and then you had to go and put all my business out there, you stupid, annoying little bitch. Just like your pain in the ass father, ruining everything I worked for. I built that god damn company myself while he was wiping snot from his nose and fucking your mother!”
Peter watched as Obadiah pulled you back up into a sitting position. He pulled so you were leaning back against his shoulder as he took out a cloth and tied it around your mouth. Neither one of you could do a damn thing but let Obadiah do what he was going to do. You two were utterly helpless.
“Now, let’s see what daddy thinks about this,” Obadiah propped you against him, pressed his face against yours, and took a picture of the two of you together. You lay against him as he sent the photo to Tony before chucking the phone at Peter. It smacked him in the chest, then fell on his lap before sliding down onto the seat. “I thought about killing you too, kid. But you’re just some harmless little worm that has no idea what he got himself into. So you’re gonna relay a message for me.  When Tony comes around, tell him he’ll know where to find me, where it all began.”
Peter could do nothing. When Obadiah disappeared from his line of sight, you were dragged out of the car. Peter could hear a grunt as Obadiah heaved you over his shoulder to take you away.  Peter didn’t know how you disappeared. He assumed it would be into a vehicle, but he couldn’t hear one leave. He was frantic. How could this happen right in front of him? Was he really that weak that yet another one of his girlfriends had to die because he just wasn’t good enough?
Peter overcame the paralytic faster than Obadiah said he would, but it was still a waste of precious minutes he could’ve used to find you. He chalked that up to his healing factor, and blamed his heightened senses for succumbing to it before it had even entered the vehicle. Peter threw the car door open and took a big gulp of air as he collapsed onto the asphalt, Obadiah’s phone in hand as he looked around frantically and saw no sight of you. As he was gaining his strength and trying to get himself to stand up, a large hunk of red and gold metal landed in front of him. Peter slowly looked up to see a faceplate lift off of this massive metal suit and reveal Tony’s face.
Peter balked, “the hell…?”
“Parker,” Tony said quickly. “Where is she?”
Peter coughed and tried to stand, so Tony grabbed him by the arm with ease and pulled him up off the ground. “Obadiah got her. Said you’d know to find her, where it all began.”
Tony swore under his breath, “First Rosa, now this.”
Peter frowned, “Rosa?”
Tony’s saw tightened before he spoke, “I went by Rosa’s apartment to check on her. Happy missed a call earlier, I traced it back there. Those agents are dead and Rosa’s gone. Traced you guys back here when Obadiah sent the photo.”
“He’s gonna kill her,” Peter said as he finally regained his strength, pushed away from Tony, and grabbed his backpack out of the car. He shook his head and reached up with the back of his hand to wipe the tears that accidentally spilled from his eyes as he took a deep inhale and started walking out of the street towards the alleyway. “I gotta stop him.”
Tony watched Peter with interest as the man pulled out his mask, slipped it on, and ripped off his clothes to shove into his backpack, leaving him in just his suit. He webbed the backpack up and away from prying eyes before spinning around and pointing a finger at Tony, “‘Where it all began,’ where is that?”
Tony shook his head, “I don’t —“
“Well, think, Tony!” Peter snapped. “Think, because I cannot lose someone, not again. I can’t keep losing people.”
“Look, you’re not the only one who’s lost people. Got it?” Tony retorted as the faceplate of his helmet came down. “I was losing people before you could find your own dick. You think I don’t want to find them? That’s my daughter and her mother. I tried so hard to keep anything like this from happening.”
“Then where would Obadiah take them?” Peter repeated. “You’ve gotta know, Tony. You have to know something because I’m not losing her. I’m putting him in the ground.”
“Not if I get there first,” Tony muttered. “The old Stark Expo Center. I used it as a testing zone for my arc reactor before I built the one in Malibu. You know where it is —“
“Yeah. I know Queens like the back of my hand,” Peter started running before he jumped into the air and immediately started to swing away. “Try to keep up, old man.”
~*~
You were trapped, and there was nothing you could do about it. The extra portion of pain that added onto this experience was the fact that a few feet of away, your mother was restrained against a pillar just like you were. The two of you were below ground of the former Stark Expo Center,  both of you restrained to pillars several feet away from each other while Obadiah sat behind a desk, shoving what looked to be something similar to Tony’s chest piece into this massive, hulking suit, while Tony’s original suit sat off in the corner.
The suit hummed as it came to life, eyes glowing a pale blue/white color. You looked up at this giant machine before looking to Obadiah and watching as a content, devious smile graced his lips.
“To think that we almost missed out on this moment, you guys.” Obadiah laughed as he turned around to stare at the two of you. “I mean, hell, Rosa, I never had a problem with you. I respected you, actually. You got yours, and you did your own thing.” 
He chuckled to himself as he continued, “I don’t know if you guys know this, but I told Tony to make sure you creamed that baby the second you could. Another Stark running around, distracting him, causing mayhem in the press? Stark Industries couldn’t handle that while it was recovering from Howard and Maria’s deaths. It just couldn’t. But Rosa’s a champ, popped out a kid, went to New York, kept it strictly business. I admired that, Rosa. I did. It makes this so much more difficult.”
Without a second of hesitation, Obadiah lifted the gun off the desk and fired one shot into Rosa’s chest. The woman’s eyes widened as the bullet made impact, and she looked down to see her blouse darkening as blood poured from her exit wound. You were screaming under your gag as you were forced to watch your mother die in front of you.
Obadiah turned his gun towards you and fired, but it was empty. He swore and chucked the gun to the side before turning around and climbing into his brand new suit. “There was a moment where I thought about repeating this all over again with you, kid. Kill off your dad, keep you around. Imagine that, a woman legacy taking over? It wouldn’t last long, but it would’ve made the company look so damn good following Tony’s death, real progressive and stuff.”
You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him through your tears as his suit came to life and he raised one arm to aim the rotary gun attachment at you. Obadiah chuckled, “But you’re annoying. Like your dumb, stupid, arrogant father. You went ahead and ruined everything. You could’ve lived. You really could’ve, but now? Now I’m going to make sure your father gets a good look at his legacy — whatever’s left over, at least.”
You heard the gun power up and shut your eyes before you could see the bullets flying. Once you heard them, you shuddered, expecting the rip of hot metal through your flesh, but it never came. You heard a loud pang and opened your eyes to see a red and gold suit holding Obadiah’s arm and aiming it up at the ceiling.
What moron could possibly be floating around now in an annoying, ostentatious red and gold suit?
Obadiah shook off Tony and launched him across the facility. He turned his attention towards you once again and aimed his guns, but nothing ever came. A web grabbed the arm and yanked the hulking suit forward. From the darkness, you could see Spider-Man yanking the suit towards him just so he could drop kick him in the chest with enough force, you thought he broke the suit.
Obadiah was launched backwards to be grabbed around the middle by Tony, who flew towards him with enough force that it sent the both of them through several walls.
When Spider-Man landed, he looked to your mother and shot a quick web to her chest before running to you and breaking your bonds. You yanked off your gag and went running to your mother who had lost consciousness during this fight.
“My mom, my mom, Peter, my mom!” You repeated this over and over again as your hands shook while you untied her.
“I know, I know.” He said quickly as he helped you and gingerly lifted her up.
There was a brief moment where he was furious.  Peter didn’t want this to be an actual fight. Peter yearned for it to be a slaughter, where he’d run over there, rip Obadiah out of the suit, and break him in half like he’d done to Rhino years and years ago. Peter was livid. Obadiah took something from Peter that was finally bringing him happiness, making him feel alive, making him want to live as Peter, and not just Spider-Man. Obadiah almost took everything away from him, and that man was responsible for the tears you were shedding and the blood your mother was losing. Peter wanted to kill him, but he couldn’t.
“Look at me,” He grabbed your shoulder in one hand and turned you to face him. “I need you to take deep breaths because I need you calm when I Get you out of here.”
“We can’t just leave him —“
“Tony will take care of it,” he replied rapidly. “You’re not safe. She’s dying. We have to go now! Do you understand? I need to get the two of you out of here now.”
Hesitating, you nodded. You  climbed onto his back while he kept your mom steady in his arms. He assured you that she was still alive, and that all he had to do was get her to the nearest hospital. He repeated to you that she would be okay as he took a running start, jumped into the air, and started to swing away with the two of you. 
As he was swinging away, Obadiah was on the chase. He caught them from the corner of his eye, and after assuming he finished off Tony, he went after Spider-Man. Racing towards him, it was now a horrible rendition of Jaws up in the air as he surged towards the three of you. He fired his mini gun at the three of you, and Peter was swinging frantically to avoid it the closer that man got. He only had one arm since he was carrying your mother, and he needed to make sure he could swing away and get you to safety.
But you knew it too. You knew if Peter couldn’t get you all out in that moment, your mom wasn’t going to make it. You craned your neck to look over your shoulder and see Obadiah getting closer, and you could feel Peter’s shoulders tense.
“Don’t you dare do that,” Peter said quickly, a crack in his voice as he kept swinging. “Don’t. Just hold on. I can do this.”
“I know,” you replied. “And I want to make sure that you do.”
“Y/N, please. I can’t lose you,” Peter replied. “I can’t do this without you.”
“You won’t have to,” you swallowed the lump in your throat as you thought about your mom, and everything she’d done, all the grief she’d taken from you over the years as you grew up with her being your one and only rock all this time. “But I need her.”
“No!”
You launched off of Peter’s back. The action sent him further ahead, while it sent you right into an unexpecting Obadiah’s suit. You grabbed onto his head and had a brief, brief second of wondering if you were actually very, very stupid and not at all the genius you were expected to be. Carefully, you were looking for gaps in his suit, and you realized you could start to take pieces apart while you were on him.
You maneuvered so you were on his back, and whatever popped out you would use brute strength, or find something loose, or a gap, or any sort of opening and start to tinker with it while you were on him. Your fingertips were bleeding and your nails were breaking, but you were twisting off one of his shoulder missiles with ease, the thought of jamming it in his face keeping you going.
Suddenly, Obadiah was flying backwards with the intent of slamming you into a wall and turning you into pudding. You quickly let go and began to fall towards the ground. At this height, depending on how you’d landed, you’d either break a leg or break your neck. Thankfully, neither happened. Tony swooped in and caught you and started flying away as Obadiah chased the two of you.
“Why the hell aren’t you with Spider-Man?” Tony seethed. “You, young lady, are in serious trouble. I think you should be grounded, actually.”
“He shot mom,” you explained. “He shot her, and she needs help, and I knew he needed time to get out so —“
“So you used yourself as distraction,” Tony huffed. “You’re annoying.”
“Fuck you. You’re annoying,” You snapped.
“Well, okay. Maybe instead of being so annoying, you can help me,” Tony began as he took evasive maneuvers with you. “You know your hacking shit, right?”
“I don’t think there’s a wi-fi connection here to do whatever hacking you have in mind.”
“There’s one,” Tony offered. I’m running out of power here, kid. I need you to hijack his suit from that computer. You shut it down, I’m gonna shove him into the core right there. You’re gonna turn that on, and we’re going to blow his bitch ass to hell.”
“Are you….fucking crazy?”
“If I can make a suit of armor to save my life, you can hack his and save all of our asses. Brace yourself!”
Tony quite literally dumped you by the computer before he spun around and went right back to fighting Obadiah. You watched as he was getting pummeled to death, the two of them going head to head which distracted you before oyu realized what you needed to do. Taking deep breaths, you sat down and started typing away on this old ass computer, muttering that it was a wonder anything worked here after being neglected for years. Then you quickly figured that this prototype, the early arc reactor to power the facility, this computer setup, it must have all been in use enough for Obadiah to get his suit made.
While you were typing, the screen suddenly flickered and went black. You swore and started mashing buttons in a panic to get any sort of response. After a moment, you realized you were seeing everything from Obadiah’s point of view. You were in his suit.
“Oh, eat shit and die, fucker.” You muttered to yourself as you took over.
Taking over his suit, you reached over to another computer to turn on the arc reactor and throw it into maximum power. You focused on the computer, typing frantically as Obadiah tried to fight your controls. You flew him directly into the reactor and shut your eyes as he started screaming in agony while the power surged through his body.
Tony flew over and landed on top of you to shield you, assuming it’d be enough to take the power and keep you both safe. However, one man did not assume that Tony could possibly keep the both of you alive, and in the blink of an eye, Spider-Man was back and carrying you both away as the facility blew up, taking Obadiah Stane with it.
The three of you landed on top of one of the buildings. Tony rolled onto his back, huffing and puffing after ripping off his helmet and staring at the sky. You unshielded your head and looked up to see Peter yanking off his mask and collapsing on the ground to pull you into him. Forehead resting against yours, his body shuddered as he shut his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“I’m hoping I won’t have to,” you mumbled as you hugged him tightly. “Thanks for the save, again, Peter.”
“Always, Y/N,” he kissed the top of your head and held you close for a moment. The two of you quiet in each other’s embrace as the adrenaline slowly started to leave the both of you.
“My mom?”
“Surgery,” he explained. “I will take you to her the second you’re ready.”
You cringed, “How’s it looking?”
Peter’s jaw tightened, “It’s…serious.”
You nodded slowly at first as you tried to remain positive. You slowly stood up with Peter’s help, and turned to see your father standing there and just watching the two of you like he was trying to freeze this moment in his brain forever. You walked towards Tony and stared up at him, your mouth contorting into a puckered look on the side of your face as you struggled with what to say.
Tony nodded once, “Good to see you’re not dead, spawn.”
Holding back the urge to find a reason to yell at him or insult him, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his middle, the side of your face resting against the cool, dirty metal as you hugged him. “Thanks for the save, dad.”
Tony’s breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat, which, at the moment, made him think he was dying yet again. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer as he stared down at you and saw what he’d been missing out on for over two decades of your life.
“Just doing what I promised your mother, to keep you safe and out of this.”
You rolled your eyes, “Oh, yeah, you saw the future here?”
“Actually, yes, I predicted the entire thing and chose to ignore it,” he quipped.”
“You’re an idiot,” you muttered as you pulled away.
“Guys?” Peter pulled on his mask after peering over the edge of the building. “Got some unmarked vans pulling up.”
Tony looked over and squinted, then caught another car that was very familiar to him as three people stepped out of it. “Those are SHIELD agents. I’ll go down and deal with them. Get her to the hospital, Parker. Make sure she gets looked at too. We’ll meet you there. I’ll fly in my own surgeons if I have to.”
“On it,” Peter nodded and grabbed you around the waist, “Ready?”
You looked over at Tony who gave you a nod. Hesitantly, you nodded and draped your arms around Peter’s shoulders so he could swing away with you. In the meantime, Tony flew over and dropped down in front of the SHIELD agents, Happy, Pepper, and Rhodes. Everyone bombarded him with questions, and Tony held his hand up.
“Before we get to all that, I need to change out of this suit. My balls are drowning in sweat, and I have a baby mama to keep alive.”
355 notes · View notes
leviiattacks · 3 years
Note
May I request a Levi x Reader angst fic? Just barely any fluff, mostly angst going on lol. The reader is a traitor, formaly working for Marley, but betraying them in secret and putting their loyalty on Paradis. The reader is also a shifter and married to Levi for a couple of years. That love and care however is gone once readers identity is found. He truly despises them, insults them, maybe a bit violent with them, and outright tells them that they mean nothing to him anymore and hate them to bits. Readers punishment is to hand over her titan to Erwin, and they agree instantly, broken over everything, believing its all their fault. Once Erwin inherits Readers titan, he breaks down and screams, crying, because Reader was innocent the whole time. They never betrayed Paradis. Never killed anyone, never harmed anyone. They finaly know why they betrayed Marley, the abuse being to much for them, enough to just leave them behind for Paradis. Just... loving and caring as they all saw them. But now the damage is done. They wont come back, they're dead, believing that they died, hated and despised, with no one to mourn their death. Everyone regrets everything.
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author note :: i was thinking of leaving this in my drafts but i already wrote it and may as well post it. it didn’t end up going the way i hoped but yeah i hope it’s ok anon. anyways ANGST. ANGST, ANGST. as always i love feed back :-) ⟹ all of the headings with the years are just meant to mean it’s a different moment from that year so those moments don’t happen right after each other i hope that makes sense!! word count :: 7.2k warnings :: canon typical violence, death
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845, i.
Everything is falling in place when it shouldn't.
Sun never makes itself known in Liberio yet here it is shining down onto the bustling streets. You half expect for it to crash down and burn into the hundreds of civilians going about their daily business yet nothing of the sort happens. It's typical sunlight and you curse yourself silently for your sinister thoughts.
Secretly the voice at the back of your mind still whispers frantically but you don't wish to hear what it has to say. Instead you choose to drown it out with the sound of Zeke's voice. Finally deciding to pay attention to what it is he's been droning on about for the past ten minutes.
"Soon, soon, soon." He sighs dreamily looking a little delirious.
"Soon?"
Your question catches him off guard, he lightly shoves you with his elbow scoffing in annoyance.
"Did you sit here to not even listen to me?" He turns to take a sip of whisky and the hearty gulp he chugs shows his mild irritation. You assume he's been rambling on about Marley's plan to infiltrate Paradis. You have to admit that the idea of destroying those demons from the inside is amazingly well thought out. However it's all he's been able to discuss for the entire week now and frankly you're getting a little exhausted of it.
"I zoned out..." Quietly placing your glass back down onto the wooden counter you sigh closing your eyes. It's too early to be drinking and you don't trust Zeke enough to slip into ignorance and leave yourself vulnerable. Men are to not be trusted, especially Eldian men. The thought of Eldians triggers your flight of fight response, you want to shrivel up into a cocoon and never come out until the world is rid of the monsters. The lowest of the low, the dirt in between the crevices of Marleyan soldier's boots. That is what Eldian's are.
It's ironic coming from you, your entire family labelled as undesirable Eldians yourself but you, you know you're different. An honorary Marleyan is what you will become. What you are. The treacherous imps who are but an ocean away are the true evil.
Eyes flicking to Zeke he's lighting a cigar. Old habits die hard and he's yet to quit this self destructive custom of his. You couldn't care less if he chooses to cut his lifespan short by ten years, it's his own choice to make. A disgusting cowardly choice but it's a choice fit for an untamed man like him.
The Island Devils are said to be the bad apples but you can't help but stare at your fellow citizens from time to time and wonder what it is they could be hiding. If a demon slipped through the cracks you wouldn't be surprised. Sly in nature, persuasive in tone, that is how devils go about their daily lives alone The hymns they drilled into you all the way through elementary school echo and rebound in your mind.
Locking your bitter thoughts away you have to push yourself to not punt Zeke in the mouth when he teasingly blows a puff of hot smoke into your face.
Fingertips grazing with his he freezes at the sudden contact giving you the perfect opportunity to slip his cigar away and take it in between your lips. You allow for it to linger there but you aren't foolish enough to inhale its contents.
"Zeke, my dear friend. We shall soon be met with the fruits of our own labour but I assure you that discussing Marley's plan constantly will be of no benefit for you nor I."
The day you and Zeke had met had been at warrior training camp. Zeke was a miserable, unmotivated oaf. Always tripping and falling behind the rest of the warrior cadets. You felt rather bad for him, if you were born as unskilled as him you don't know what you would have made of yourself. Zeke, the only child of his parents ironically only ever ended up rising through the ranks after handing them over to the Marleyan government. His father and mother had been conspiring an escape plan but were executed immediately alongside their fellow team members once Zeke had outted them. Unexpectedly he was spared, the fact he turned on his own parents showed where his loyalties were. To his surprise, he was even allowed to continue his training with the other warriors - only this time everyone kept an increased distance away from him. The warriors weren't informed of what he had actually done but everyone had a gut feeling. Everyone apart from you stuck with that feeling. You thought strategically, If he were to become an enemy in the future you knew being close would come at your advantage.
The day you and Zeke had met your mother died, his mother passed away the same day. At least that's what he had told you.
The two of you bonded over the little things, told each other stories about your life at home. Reminisced about what it was you missed.
Then it all came crashing down the day Zeke confessed. The day he told you he killed his mother and father by handing them over to Marley. Your knees buckled underneath you, crashing the floor he tried to grab at you but you thrashed around in retaliation kicking and screaming not understanding why he did what he did. Yes, they were traitors but they were his parents and if the monster had the nerve to turn on the people who gave birth to him who's to say he wouldn't do the same to you or to Marley.
Zeke doesn't know it but ever since then you take the opportunity to sneak the occasional glance at him. Every single time you narrow your eyes in malice. If there's a man in Liberio who you don't trust in the slightest it's him, he must think the feud between the two of you from childhood has been put at rest but it hasn't.
Zeke takes another swig of his alcohol. On this occasion he downs it entirely slamming the glass down with vigour.
"ONE MORE GLASS BARTENDER!"
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846, i.
Another day of extensive training is about to end, your back is layered in uncomfortable layers of sweat and the same can be said for your forehead. Kneeling down in the under layer of the forest you're hidden waiting to strike. Going up against the elites is nerve-wracking but you're sure you can pull it off so long as you stay calm during this game of hunters against prey.
It's simple enough if you can conceal yourself and stay out of sight. The robust trees that surround you act as decent enough camouflage and your green cape paired with them lets you veil yourself, keeping you further into the foreground, blending into the environment.
No one will be able to catch you if they can't see you.
All of a sudden your previous thoughts are thrown away when you sense something in the atmosphere has changed, the hissing of the wind behind you isn't natural.
Turning to your side you don't bother to cover up the sound of leaves rustling and branches cracking, your priority is slipping away fast enough to hide again, a tug can be felt at your cloak and your reaction time barely covers for you, your gear fastens itself to a low enough tree branch and the descent is mind numbing. Your breakfast churns in your stomach but you ignore the uneasy feeling, leaping and diving wherever you find a small enough gap. You believe you can outrun your huntsman.
That is until you sneak a glance back and your muscles nearly tense up in pure astonishment, you've been kicked in the teeth just by the man's presence. Captain, Levi slinks behind you weaving through the gaps with increasing speed, he's gaining momentum and all the while his face stays relaxed, this isn't even his full effort.
Terrified you dart upwards and then left, a corner comes into view - Levi should assume you've turned into it and so you rashly choose to dart back down. Much to your hard luck you find that his senses are well adapted, the direction of the wind is enough for him to trace your whereabouts.
The pursuit resumes, and he stays disturbingly relentless.
Arm shooting to the right you think perhaps making it look like you're aiming to fly somewhere else again will completely catch him off guard, he can't expect for you to pull the same trick twice.
Setting your plan into motion your finger pulls at the trigger but you startle when the cable doesn't come out, it's jammed. Panic seeps into you and to make matters worse your gas is running out.
Without warning you're thrust into the body of a nearby tree, the bark scrapes against you and scratches begin to form anywhere you've made contact with the jagged surface, you want to admit defeat but the warrior inside of you denies Levi the pleasure of seeing you beg. In its place you deliver a harsh kick to his thigh, you're aware he's injured it and you're certain there are no rules to say you can't play dirty. Your boots hammer against leg hard enough for him to give out and let go of your body, but then you realize you lost this game from the very moment your grapple hooks broke, you have nowhere to hold onto.
Before you can even let out a shriek of horror Levi's shot back to you, he frantically accelerates and by a miracle humanity's strongest is able to grab a hold of you again. This time you don't dig your heels into his leg and you allow for him to clutch you by the torso.
Within a minute the two of you descend towards the forest floor and Levi throws you into the dirt furiously.
"You could have died. Being foolhardy will only lead to an early death." He barks as he directs his blade towards your neck.
"Am I dead yet?" Whispering back your gaze isn't trained on the blade but right up at him.
His nostrils flare up, his hair sticks to his forehead haphazardly and the knuckles that hold his pointed blades are white in tangled dissatisfaction.
Grabbing you by the hips he flings you over his shoulder choosing to not continue with the confrontation.
"I know what you're up to." His voice is still rugged from the pursuit and it takes you a split second to register what he's said.
Your eyes widen and your breath hitches in your throat, no way, there's no way in hell he knows. He's sharp but he's not a mind reader.
Your position means he can't read your face seeing as you're facing his back, instantly steeling your features you let out a breathy laugh.
"And what may that be?" Silently you pray he's worded himself ambiguously to catch a slip up.
"Being gutsy, you think that makes you a good soldier. It doesn't."
Relief floods you. He doesn't know.
"Soldiers need to be brave." Your retort makes him grumble.
"If  you die with no meaning by being reckless what's the purpose of being a soldier?" His question has you stopping and thinking on what the correct answer is.
Unable to think of an answer you ask another question.
"Are you saying your previous comrades died without meaning?"
"No. Their deaths fueled me slay more titans."
"So if I died back there who wou-" He swiftly cuts you off showing no inclination of wanting to hear what it is you have to say.
"I'll cut your tongue off if it's stupid." He clearly isn't serious about the threat but he does mean it when he warns you to not overstep.
Despite the consequences you say what's on your mind. "I just wanted to ask who would give my life meaning if I ever died. I don't have siblings and my parents died long ago."
Silence follows and the crunch of his boots against the muddy leaves tells you he probably doesn't wish to answer your question.
"Sorry-"
"I would. I would give meaning to your life." He says it with such ease you almost want to admire the enemy but you know he's said it because he feels he has to.
"You barely know me but I hope one day you can stop thinking everyone has to rely on you." You say it with taunting understanding.
Another bout of silence follows. Only this time the two of you feel warmly comforted, he doesn't understand how you've seen through his facade but it's easy for you to spot another liar.
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846, ii.
Brows drawn back you observe your surroundings attempting to mask your scrutiny. The place is running amok with uncontrollable Eldian folk. The stench of unadulterated sin makes itself known but you seem to be the only person able to smell it. Eren bumps against the table you're sat at and your face twitches a little but you say nothing. You're yet to get used to these people's lack of manners.
At least that's how you force yourself to think. To be truthful, you don't quite understand what it is these people have done wrong. Ever since you've arrived you've been nitpicking at every single minor inconvenience or possible issue. A girl stole a potato and broke it into uneven pieces to share and you attempted to twist the story in your head to make her look like an unfair, greedy voracious demon but... you found yourself finding very little to actually be angry at. These people are essentially normal in every way of the word, they aren't demons and you can't help but feel yourself slip away from everything you once knew as reality. You're finding it difficult to believe what years of Marleyan education taught you, the hymns that were once drilled into your brain permanently are but a vague memory.
You feel disgustingly under-dressed and out of place, you don't belong here not when you're meant to hate these people, not when you're meant to despise them. You should be fighting the urge to shove their heads onto pitchforks or to skin them alive and feed them to pigs. Everyone back in Marley told you to control your impulses but now you're here and you've settled down even having the opportunity to converse with these individuals, share their pain, share their loss, share their suffering, you wonder why you have no impulses to control. Have they brainwashed you? Or is it that you're the real demon in this situation?
Fingers mingling with each other on your lap you sit hopelessly alone. Interacting with the so called enemy is much harder than you expect. Worry consistently bubbles in the pit of your stomach and every night is spent tossing and turning evaluating then reevaluating who the bad guy really is. At first the task of daily interaction isn't a big deal, you find it easy enough to approach members of the team and fake interest in their lives until the original plan falls through. You do become invested in your team members lives and stories that it comes to the point where you don't have to force yourself to smile at their jokes or to sympathize with their tales of grief. You become one of them and you swear you're meant to feel like a traitor but eerily you feel like you belong.
Nevertheless you try your best to stick with what you know. You're nothing like Zeke, you're loyal, capable, faithful and trustworthy. Never will you turn your back on Marley.
Rising to excuse yourself from dinner you think you've just about made it and escaped finally able to hide away in the confines of your bedroom but your lips form into a straight uncomfortable line at the feeling of someone's hand latching at your wrist. You're halfway down the hallway just a few more steps away from your bedroom. You hope it's one of the rookies.
"Oi, come here."
Head shooting backwards your eyes land on Levi, his dark curtains fall in front of his eyes - you note that he hasn't trimmed them as he usually does. Despite his size his grip is firm and your wrist squirms around a little trying to manoeuvre out of his bruising grasp. He seems to notice he's underestimated his strength once again and loosens his hold on you. Narrowed eyes analyse your anxious form, they're grey and in this lighting almost glow appearing silver. For a brief second your mouth is left ajar by the delicate but rough manner of his face.
"Everything Okay?" He doesn't typically seem to care very much about anyone, the question activates your senses and you're on full alert but the eye contact you make with him seconds later slows down the gears in your mind, they only whir and hum in anticipation completely coming to a halt.
"Yes, yes everything is okay." You're playing around with the hem of your shirt and you silently question when you were ever this nervous around anyone. You're a Marleyan soldier for heaven's sake not an unrestrained, unsupervised child left to play in a park.
Despite your clear inability to cushion and shield yourself from your Levi's stabbing gaze you attempt to appear as nonchalant as possible.
"I'll be going I just feel a little —" At first you had thought to fake you were ill but at the feeling of a sudden strike of pain you hold onto your stomach, the ache burns into your abdomen and without permission it travels higher up towards your ribs. "A little unwell." You manage to wheeze out. Hand placed onto a nearby cement wall your thought process is hasty speeding up by the second. Have they figured you out and had you poisoned? No, you barely ate anything today.
You hunch over feeling the bile crawl up your throat, on reflex you clamp your eyes shut not wishing to anger a superior by acting insolent and disposing of your dinner in the hallway. Shaky palms reach hesitantly for your lips and you force yourself to keep it in. Levi would commit a murder if you heaved and gagged letting it all out in front of him.
You motion towards the door trying to emphasize that you can handle yourself in the privacy of your room. Tears bite at the sides of your eyes and your vision is so blurred you can only make out the faint outline of the man who was just in front of you.
"Relax. I'll clean it." Your hair is brushed away from your face securely held back and you can't hold it in any longer, the acrid storm surges through your throat, you retch at the harsh sting it leaves behind. Breathing heavy, perturbed and anxious you gasp in all the air you can get.
"I knew you looked ill." His hands hold your jaw gently, the pads of his fingers are calloused but his touch remains soft. A tissue dabs at your mouth wiping away the excess untouched sick.
Just like the sick which surged through you less than a minute ago you feel something else entirely tear into you. You can't put a finger on it but it's dangerous for you to not feel contempt.
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847, i.
Your heart accepts what your mind has been ignoring for months on end when Levi looks you square in the eyes after a heart wrenching expedition. The vacant look on his face is enough for the guilt to consume you whole but he doesn't know that. He doesn't know of your sins.
The wagon of corpses reeks of death and desperation. It's rotten and the smell is sickening. Forcibly you  stop yourself from feeling any more grief. The despair isn't yours to go through.
Your first ever personal loss outside of the walls and you've learnt Paradis is not home to demons. Cheeks burning in mortification you can't formulate any thoughts on your own accord, instead they continuously emerge in bursts and finally a single thought sticks out from the rest - Are you aiding in the destruction of innocent human life?
The both of you are sat on guard duty with the corpses, half of the team has been wiped out in one sweep. Your trembling hands don't seem to want to steady any time soon and you sit there with your guilty conscience strangling you slowly, your airflow is getting shallower. Shorter, quicker breaths leave you. The imaginary gash in your chest is bottomless, and your lungs push and pull in a power struggle.
Levi's coarse hands abruptly hold onto yours and the floodgates open again, he doesn't know what you've done to him, done to his soldiers, done to his people. If he knew who you really were, would things be different?
"This was out of your control."
Do you tell him?
The question sits in your mind for a while until you shake your head. He takes it the wrong way and think you're responding to him.
"This was not your fault." For the first time in months you've heard his voice crack under pressure.
"Pe- Petra she- I could have taken one for the team and died instead of her." All that remains of your dear friend is her blood soaked cloak. Her body was one of the few that had to be hauled away earlier to decrease the carriage's load.
The fabric still smells of Petra, smells of honey and chamomile and the simple soap offered at the base, but it still smells of her.
Firm hands grab your shoulders and Levi's fingers dig sorely into your flesh.
"Don't."
"But I- I didn't contribute as much as her and she has family who are alive." Hiccuping you try to bare with the fact that you'll wake up tomorrow and not see her preparing breakfast for everyone else. You know you could have propelled her out of the way just in time if you hadn't been so taken aback by the entire situation.
"You were her comrade. She made the choice to die for you."
You want to reach out, sob into his chest and yell that you regret it all, scream and tell him about the secret you've been hiding. A sorry excuse of a comrade you are to let her die on the battlefield not knowing your true identity. The tears roll down your cheeks and Levi feels his heart constrict and squeeze as he comprehends the lack of regard you have for your life. "It should have been me." Is repeated over and over again, your eyes are raw and bloodshot, the vicious wind sinks its teeth into you.
"Then die."
"If you're willing for her life to have no meaning. Die." The words he spits out are as cutting as the bitter wind. He feels cheated and you're finally able to come to your senses.
He's faired much worse but you doubt he's ever acted out the way you have in front of another person. In this never-ending void of darkness locking away the dull ache caused by deafening loss is the best choice for everyone.
Much like the night you had been sick he takes a grip of your jaw and directs your face towards his, this time he's not as gentle as before but you conclude that it's because he's drained, completely exhausted from the battle. The eyes are the windows to the soul but Levi's window panes are shattered, completely crushed by the weight of the constant burden he has to carry.
"I'm sorry." You croak out the apology. He grits his teeth because he doesn't want you to apologize but he doesn't voice out his opinion. As a substitute he presses his arms against you, the terribly raw panic is murdering you. Levi's gruff voice is a mixture of faux irritation but mutual understanding.
"Cry." He allows for your head to loll against his shoulder.
As the dark envelopes both you and him the scent of the dead only becomes more and more pungent, recalling fond memories of Petra and the others you know your heart settles on a decision before your mind does. You're a two timing back stabbing traitor for this. What you hated Zeke for you have become yourself.
Disloyal, unfaithful and fickle.
That day you place your loyalties with Paradis.
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847, ii.
Levi's wiping down one of the kitchen tables, you're kneeled on the floor scrubbing vigorously. The others have already given up, panting they've left using the excuse of fetching water from a nearby well. Your back aches but you find cleaning reassuring and somewhat of a decent distraction.
"Why do you like to clean?" You're used to Levi asking you abrupt questions by now, after all the two of you have been acquainted for well over a year now. Through that year he's learnt about you and you about him. When in the midst of what looks to be humanity's final year's, twelve simple months is enough to form a bond worth a decade.
"I'm not good at a lot but I am good at cleaning."
"You know that's not true idiot." The tone of his voice indicates that your answer doesn't please him.
"But I do think I'm good at cleaning? Maybe not as good as you but I am half decent."
"Not that. You're good at much more than half the people I've ever met." He sneers, his footsteps edge towards you. "Purely being a good person is a talent these days."
You suppress a flinch because you aren't a good person at all. Neither are you that middle ground between good and bad. Rough around the edges and uneven, you're shards of glass ready to slash and hack away at him if Marley somehow lures you back.
The confession, if you could even call it that catches you by surprise and anger fills you. You almost want for him to not trust you and call out your bluff. It's a little unnatural how badly you want for him to realize the truth.
Your head turns up to stare at the man who's a few steps away from you. "Or am I just good at acting genuine?"
You don't even mean to snap at him and you don't even realize you have until you see his eyes widen and mouth part in imperceptible surprise. Biting your tongue your attention is diverted back to the wooden floor. Driving your washcloth into the crevices and dips of the floorboards you ignore Levi's leather shoes which now stand right in front of you.
"Are you questioning my judgement of character?"
Be born in Marley, That's what you had done, trained to destroy people you thought to be devilish entities, foolishly chose to grow attached to the so called enemy. Your mind lingers onto a specific thought and you're deathly afraid to be thinking it in the first place but there's no more avoiding it.
Falling deeply in love with Levi is your worst mistake to date.
"What I did. It was out of my control." you reply, voice hard.
"Not disclosing what it was?" He asks.
Your silence is his answer. Kneeling down to where you are he disarms you, the washcloth is taken out of your hands and he places it onto a table.
"You are a good person." His voice is brusque and he states it like it's a fact, something you should know. Hot tears threaten to spill over, he's stupidly naive for not rethinking that opinion of his. Lips thinned and eyes watering you don't know how to feel.
"Levi. I'm sure you'd like to think that but I am not."
"You love the members of the corps unconditionally I can see it in the way you look at them."
"Sometimes you look a little sad when you stare." The last sentence he adds in has your pulse racing. He's right, you often feel miserable thinking about how everyone would react knowing who you really are.
"I'm not interested in bad people." He sounds distant saying such warm words and it takes a moment for them to actually sink in. You don't quite believe you've heard him correctly. The dread sinks to the bottom of your stomach and the feelings you've buried at the back of your mind hit you like a tsunami. The thought of him feeling the same way for you, is agonizing.
"Stop being ridiculous." The uncertainty is killing the both of you.
"Loving you is not ridiculous, if you don't feel the same way you can say that and I'll step away. We'll be back to normal."
"No, no, no. You don't get it. You're just saying that." Your voice quivers and the intensity of this new revelation is too large for you to cope with.
"Why would, you," He begins, voice just above a whisper, "ever think that way?"
"Why would you even look twice at me?" You reply.
"Because I worry for you."
"You worry for everyone."
"I worry for you the most."
Instead of letting you respond to him this time he carries on speaking.
"We both know we feel the same."
You already knew you were in love with Levi, you didn’t need for him to tell you. You knew you were in love when you tried to memorize his facial features, you knew you were in love when his laughter was the cause of your laughter, you knew you were in love when you threw yourself in front of that abnormal for him.
That's when you begin to understand what all his signals meant. You now knew why he'd let you stare so intently, you now knew why he laughed particularly hard when it was you who had made a joke, you now knew why he scolded you and nearly broke down at the sight of your injured arm after that specific expedition.
You know it. He knows it. You both know what this will lead to.
But you still lunge onto his lap, you still press your wobbly lips against his. You still choose to surrender yourself to him and he still reacts by taking a hold of your shaky hands which lay on his chest. He envelopes them in his warm grasp. Slowly but gradually the ice thaws and dissolves. Heartbreak, anguish and suffering when one of you loses the other will be the end of your romance, you're sure of it. Hell, the both of you are in the middle of a war but your heart flames up thinking of all of the possibilities.
Perhaps it'll play out the one way you wish for it not to.
Could your ending be in betrayal?
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848, i.
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded hus-"
"Cut the crap and kiss me." Levi's crude interruption isn't appreciated by Erwin but everyone knows Levi doesn't care all that much for formalities and hates being in the spotlight for too long.
Gripping him by the collar of his suit your lips are a centimetre away, he stops you tightening the hold he has on your waist. His lips gently press against your collarbone and his breath meanders towards the shell of your ear.
"Swear you won't die on me."
Gulping you look away apprehensively. You know you can't promise that.
“Oi, I’m expecting an answer.” His voice flickers slightly.
Forefinger holding your chin up you see your soon to be husband close to tears, he valiantly blinks them away. Levi has never been one to make his pain public and your heart twists in your chest as you realize just how much of a hold his feelings for you have over him.
"I can't promise that, you know it'll only hurt more." The strange bitter taste in your mouth won't let you comply with his request and by measuring his reaction you see his eyes cloud in an unidentifiable emotion, you're sure it's nothing positive.
"We may not have a happy ending Levi but we'll always have a happy middle."
Levi scoffs in derision, he has to think your attempt at being meaningful is ridiculous.
You lean into him and it's all so heart-wrenchingly familiar yet foreign. His body sags comprehending that not everything will go the way he wants it to. One of you is guaranteed to leave first.
Hands finding purchase in the cloth of his white dress shirt Levi doesn't cringe at you creasing the fabric as he usually does. He allows for you to call the shots this time, your lips brush faintly against his before you nosedive into him. No resistance is felt and he replies almost immediately. Everyone applauds as his fingertips press into the back of your skull and you find that this is all incredibly hideous. The innate disloyalty you feel, you throwing your entire life away for this man but you find yourself not caring. To hell with that miserable life crammed with sin.
Levi smiles against your mouth, you assume you're meant to magically smile back but you can't make yourself. It's uncomfortable relishing in the undeserved happiness knowing it won't last forever.
The world you live in isn't ideal nor is it forgiving.
Momentary joy is all an antagonist can hope for.
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849, i.
Jean can’t take his eyes off the newly weds.
You’re cooing into your Levi’s ear gently, his cheeks flush scarlet at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin and he scolds you for having the gall to rile him up in public.
Jean sniggers finding some sort of odd delight from the interaction - he’s never seen the Captain this content and at ease.
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849, ii.
You don't know why you've dragged yourself out of bed just to stare at your husband's face but you have, despite the toll life has had on him he seems sound for once. His breathing peaceful yours is anything but that. When it's dark the weight becomes heavier, your skin tingles and your throat burns aching for release.
Eyes blurring your hands shake reaching out for him but you can't find the courage to make contact. Nothing will ever warrant plaguing him even more with your existence.
The memories become increasingly bitter.
"If we make it out of this alive we'll have children and they'll look just like you."
"I want them to look like you." had been your reply.
Levi winced not seeming to like the idea.
"No, I want them to look like you. You're beautiful."
How wrong he was for thinking that.
You, beautiful? He'd stab himself ten times over if he knew just who exactly he had said those words to.
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850, i.
Zeke had betrayed you after finding out who you were to Levi but you half expected that he would tell him the truth at some point regardless of that fact.
Tear stains travel through the mud and grime on your face, Levi's eyes are indifferent as he twists his wedding ring off his finger flinging it into the surrounding rubble.
Without your permission he yanks your arm forwards intending to take your matching ring away but you hold on digging your heels into the dirt beneath you.
"You disgusting bitch. Give me it."
You scream, high and awful, he continues jerking at your arm the muscle throbs crying out for him to stop but he doesn't and no one steps in to put a halt to any of it. Levi having had enough grabs at your neck ruthlessly. In any other circumstance he'd be labelled callous or cruel but everyone on the battle field shares a similar empathy for their Captain. Neither they or Levi had expected your disloyalty.
"I said give me the ring if you know what's good for you." His fingers slide around your neck, his seemingly low words cling onto the little respect he has left for you.
"No." Your defiance has his eyes hardening in and posture tensing. "I'm not handing it over."
Levi says nothing, he only holds onto your throat tighter, if he really keeps at  it your windpipe will be crushed in no time. You know he's holding out on purpose, he's still giving you a chance. He expects for you to stand your ground, say you never deceived Paradis, say something, anything to make him let go of you.  
"Marrying you... It just happened somehow. I know it was selfish of me." He squeezes harder. "I know it was. I'm sorry Levi." Gasping and breathless you clench and unclench your fists finding it too difficult to explain.
Your mouth opens, you want to tell him you haven't seduced him like he thinks you have, tell him you dropped that plan of yours long ago but then you falter at the last second.  It's typically hard to tell when Erwin's infuriated but it's painfully obvious when you make eye contact with him over Levi's trembling shoulders. It's enough to tell you to give up. Enough to tell you that you're beyond redemption, you've ran and hid long enough.
"Hand over your titan." Levi says nothing to Erwin's proposition, the hold he has on your neck loosens but his silence is sickening. It means he agrees.
This is fate's idea of a cruel joke.
But you agree, on the basis of one condition.
"Fine but-"
Levi cuts in, all regard for you devoid from his system.
"You're in no place to be making demands." He snarls, his patience quickly running thin.
However Erwin urges you to continue speaking taking you aback.
"If it's not too much maybe we can accommodate your final wish." Erwin had always been thoughtful in nature and you thank him for even bothering to show you a sliver of benevolence.
Everyone's looking, all eyes are on you. Some are blinking away tears, others are disgusted unable to stare at you for more than a few seconds at a time. Levi falls into the latter.
Brazen with not an ounce of shame you mention the ring again. "Let me keep it." Your left hand covers your right and underneath the flesh is the last symbol left of your union with Levi.
Whispers and murmurs orbit you, none of them are kind and Levi loses it.
His reflexes are paralyzing, he's back at it clawing your neck mercilessly but you don't scream or shriek as you did previously. You take it, you let him unload his frustration.
"Levi. Let it go for the sake of humanity." Erwin says pointedly. Irritation pricks him, he wants this over and done with and your rebelliousness doesn't look as if it'll be tamed any time soon unless you're given what you want.
Levi's face is crimson, the fresh blood from the expedition still steaming. "Y/N, I'll saw your arm off if I have to." But, you know he's already given into Erwin's orders when he throws you to the ground letting you crash and wheeze for breath.
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850, ii.
Levi's been appointed to guard you for your final night alive. The room feels wistful as you think back wondering if the life you lived was respectable.
"Why did you stare at me when I slept? Did you think of killing me?" Half commanding and half pleading his voice cracks. He coughs attempting to cover it up.
You jolt not expecting the interaction at all and you're not the slightest bit surprised that he had seen you all those nights staring so deeply. He'd always been a light sleeper. You turn your head up hoping he's looking at you.
He isn't.
"I wanted our children to look like you. I think you're beautiful."
It's now his turn to recoil, only he does so in repulsion remembering the familiarity of those words. They had left his own lips not too long ago.
"I'd never have children with the likes of you." He sounds tense then.
You understand. No one would want to have children with someone as hated and as despicable as you.
"I know." You whisper faintly.
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850, iii.
When Erwin's eyes glaze over unable to focus on anything in particular Levi assumes it's him growing used to the titan powers. What he doesn't expect is for his Commander to bang his head against the floor unrelenting screaming your name.
Pairs of hands move to stop him but he thrusts them aside wailing. Levi stresses trying to figure out what it is you could have done in the wake of your death.
But Erwin Smith. Courageous, brave Erwin Smith, who never cracked at loss of life for the sake of humanity, who always eloquently spoke to everyone around him at all times, finds himself slumping down to his knees and weeping for you.
The warm blood from his self inflicted assault still trickles down his nose, a tremor shakes through his entire body when he thinks of breaking the news to Levi.
The edge in Erwin’s voice grows dangerous.
"We made the wrong choice."
Erwin can't word it any better than that.
But Levi understands right away, he wishes he didn’t, he wishes he was ignorant enough not to.
Hange sticks an arm out aiming for his shoulder but he stumbles away nearly falling back into the floor not wanting to be touched by anyone.
He finds that he is not human enough to cry. It’s that or he’s not human at all without your presence.
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854, i.
Levi has grown old without you, lived to see months and new seasons without you by his side. Over time his eyelids have become heavier, the corners of his mouth naturally droop and he remains perpetually somber.
Sometimes you visit him in his dreams, each time you make a silly comment about how his grey eye bags make him look like he’s been punched in the face. “Levi Ackerman, I swear if you don’t sleep soon!” You cushion the blow by whispering sweet nothings, reassuring him that you still think he’s beautiful. 
Occasionally you add in that you don’t blame him for the past, but those conversations only last for a few seconds at a time.
“I don’t blame you.” It always starts off with the exact same phrase. 
“I should have listened to you.” Levi’s tone is stern and uncompromising .
“Lev, I was never going to tell you to spare my life. You tried to listen to me, I could tell you wanted me to deny it.”
Levi refuses to answer you, he still thinks he’s at fault.
Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of that ring. He regrets throwing it away recklessly into the rubble.
Some day he’ll return to Shiganshina to find it. The idea sounds laughable but he has to find a reason to smile as he fights for his life.
That is what Levi thinks as two set’s of jaws snap shut onto his legs, a flurry of red surrounds him. His throat constricts at the feeling of his thighs being ripped away from the rest of him.
“I tried.” He whimpers to no one in particular, eyes blank and losing meaning.
“I know Levi, I know.” The same voice from his dreams soothes him.
“Do not despair. Find me again in another world.” The biting wind adds in.
Levi’s eyelids flutter shut unable to do much else.
He’s unsure if he has the courage to face you again in another lifetime.
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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years
Text
Daddy's Little Girl
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Request 10: Dad!Schlatt angst with the reader trying to protect Tubbo because the reader is his older sibling?
Requested By: Anonymous
TW: Abuse
Do you want angst? I’ll give you angst. Never challenge me again. /J
ily /p
(Hints of Wilbur and Techno x reader if you squint)
Growing up with Schlatt as your father had its ups and downs, on one hand, he was hilarious and let you get away with anything you wanted, but on the other hand, he had a drinking problem. When you were a little girl his drinking wasn’t too bad, some days were worse than others but most of the time he was semi cognizant. However, when your baby brother Tubbo came along everything changed, for a while he was sober. He was clear-headed, held a stable job on the SMP, and even helped you with your homework, but alas all good things come to an end. As soon as Tubbo started school, and your mom left he started up again, you weren’t happy. Your horns had begun to curl around your head around that time and your baby brother was enamored. He would wrap his chubby hands around them to pull and trace his fingers over the ridges, Tubbo would declare his horns were going to be just as magnificent as yours one day. You would flush at the praise and ruffle his hair, and told him you could already feel his little nubs growing in, he was overjoyed at the news.
Before Tubbo, Schlatt would never lay a hand on anyone, but something inside him crumbled. You had a few close calls, Tubbo bothering your father a little too much and Schlatt raised a hand to the boy. Luckily, you were always there to diffuse the situation and direct your father’s attention away from your baby brother. You were old enough to know just how impulsive and uncaring drinking made him, you tried to keep Tubbo as occupied as you could while keeping up with your work.
When Tubbo was ten years old he made his first friend.
Tubbo told you the kid’s name was Tommy, and he shared all the new information about his friend. He informed you he had two older brothers named Wilbur and Technoblade, who were about a year or two older than you. Tubbo desperately wanted to introduce you to him, but with your dad to keep an eye on you had to decline, at least for the time being. Tubbo pouted at your response and gave you, your biggest weakness puppy dog eyes, you relented. Promising to go with Tubbo to Tommy’s house in a few days to meet the brothers and supervise his play date with Tommy.
You just hoped your dad would be alright.
The day finally rolled around for you to meet the elusive Tommy and his brothers, you informed your dad that you and Tubbo would be gone for the rest of the day, he said it was alright. You think he just wanted to excuse to drink more while both of his children were gone.
“Come on (Y/n), let’s go already!” Tubbo called with a groan, you hushed him softly,
“Put your jacket on first.”
He reluctantly slipped on his jacket and grabbed his bag, you followed him out the door. Tubbo was buzzing with excitement holding his bee plush close to his chest, going on and on about how great Tommy was and how much he hoped you’d like Wilbur and Techno. Eventually, the both of you came upon a small cabin in the middle of a clearing, it was surrounded by lush pine trees and a little boy in a red and white shirt stood by the front gate.
“Tubbo!” The boy you assumed was Tommy shouted rushing over to the gate,
“Tommy!” Tubbo shouted with a laugh, he looked like he wanted to run towards him but first, he looked up at you. You smiled softly and gave your brother a nod, his face lit up and he charged towards Tommy. They met in the middle and Tommy immediately tackled Tubbo to the ground, a young man with glasses opened the window and began to shout at the blonde. He picked his head up and spotted you in the distance, his entire face flushed red, you sent him a little wave. The boy adjusted his glasses slamming the window shut, you titled your head to the side before seeing him and a taller boy with pink hair. While Tommy and Tubbo wrestled in the dirt the older boys walked up to you, they introduced themselves as Wilbur and Technoblade. They both were hybrids like yourself, you immediately felt at home, no wonder Tubbo liked it here so much.
Through the power of conversation you found out Technoblade was a piglin hybrid and Wilbur was half nymph, Tommy was just a plain human. Either their dad got around or some of them were adopted, you’d ask Tubbo later, figuring it was rude to blatantly ask that question. You found out the entire family thrived off of bulling one another it was quite funny to watch Technoblade roast the ever-loving shit out of Wilbur, unknown to you whenever you let a giggle or two slip past your lips Wilbur would flush and Technoblade would smirk. The end of the playdate rolled around and you found yourself not wanting to leave your new friends, Wilbur offered for you and Tubbo to sleep over but you politely declined. Technoblade shot Wilbur a concerned look when with a smile you said your dad would have your ass if you and Tubbo stayed over.
A few years went by since your first meeting, Tubbo and Tommy became inseparable and honestly, you and his brothers were in the same situation. Although you couldn’t see Technoblade and Wilbur as much as Tubbo could see Tommy the three of you were attached at the hip. Wilbur would constantly write you letters, sometimes the handwriting would switch and you noticed Techno put his blunt opinions into the conversation. Tubbo found one of the letters once and insisted that both boys must have a crush on you, you denied that with a soft laugh, just like your father you were under the impression you were unlovable.
Speaking of your dad, he was rarely ever sober at this point, rather being numb than feeling anything significant. Luckily he could be slightly functional, but mostly it was you raising Tubbo and protecting him from your dad’s off days. Speaking of an off day you had just gotten back from a trip of visiting your favorite boys, it was late and Tubbo was asleep in your arms. He was scratched up a bandaid was on his nose, and a bandage wrapped around his arm, he had taken a particularly nasty fall while wrestling with Tommy. Luckily both you and Wilbur were skilled in patching up rambunctious little brothers and he was fixed up in no time flat. You noticed the light on in the living room and grew concerned, your dad was always passed out in his bed by this time of night, was he alright?
Tubbo mumbled something in your arms and you pulled him close to your chest as to not wake the boy. “Dad?” You called softly wandering into the living room, much to your surprise he was very much awake. Your nose scrunched up in displeasure he reeked of whiskey and cigarettes, so tonight was a bad night.
Noted.
“You reek.” You commented adjusting the sleeping Tubbo in your arms, your father shot you a dirty look.
“Where the fuck have you been with the brat?” He hissed baring his teeth at you, “Do you know how late it is? Do you know how worried I was!” You hated the way your stomach churned with guilt and relief, at least he noticed his children were gone. He shouldn’t be praised for the bare minimum, Technoblade would’ve told you gruffly if he knew the full extent of your relationship.
“Out with Tommy, Wilbur, and Technoblade. Phil’s kids remember?” You responded with a soft sigh and he sent a dirty look your way standing up from his recliner. You backed up a few steps, the man towering over you eyeing Tubbo who was beginning to stir in your arms. Hesitantly you placed a hand over the back of his head, keeping it pressed tightly against your neck and shoulder. It only seemed to make Schlatt’s face scrunch up more,
“He looks so much like your mother.”
“I know dad.”
“Why’s he beat to shit?” He slurred reaching his hands out towards Tubbo, “You let him get hurt?”
“Tommy and he were just wrestling. Just being kids. I patched him up, he’s just sleepy.”
“So you let him get beat?”
“Dad no did you not hear me-” He grabbed one of your horns roughly yanking them down. You yelped in pain dropping Tubbo in the process, he hit the ground with a hard thud crying out from the rude awakening. “Dad you’re hurting me-”
“(Y/n)? Dad?” He murmured groggily barely processing the situation unfolding in front of him.
“Tubbo go to your room.” Your dad hissed at him, spit flying everywhere, Tubbo looked terrified. He looked at you and nodded the best you could with your dad’s iron-like grip on your horn, he scurried away and you felt your eyes fill with tears. If only he was a little older, he’d maybe be able to help you, but he was a child and didn’t need to see what was going to happen. “You’ve been running around without a care in the world, you’ve been going free for way too long. You’ve been a bad girl and now your getting punished.” Your blood turned to ice as the gip on your horn tightened,
“Dad, please I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure we get home on time from now on, you’re drunk. Please don’t do this you’ll regret it come the morning.”
“Shut the fuck up (Y/n)!” He spat his tobacco spit flying all over your face, you grimaced trying not to choke in disgust. “You think you know everything about the world but you don’t, you’re a stupid naive child!” He slammed the side of your head against the brick wall of your house. You yelped in pain feeling something crack against the wall, but it wasn’t your skull, it was your right horn.
“Dad- Dad please stop my horn-” You pleaded as he dragged you back by the hair and slammed you into the wall again. Your horn cracked once more and you screamed in pure agony, blood began to stain the wall where your head it, and your horn began to crack. “DAD!” You sobbed out as your horn broke off falling on the ground with a thud. Blood began to drip down the side of your head, your sobbing seemed to snap Schlatt back to his senses as he let out a soft call of your name.
“Fuck. Fuck baby I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked pulling you into his chest, he pressed his hands against the stub of your horn. You whimpered in pain and Schlatt shushed you softly, “I’m so sorry baby girl. My little girl, I didn’t mean it.” His head pressed into the crook of your neck, just where Tubbo’s was moments prior. “I’m such a fuck up. I’d never hurt you...I can’t do this…”
“It’s okay…” Your voice cracked eyes wide and glassy, it wasn’t okay but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Can I go to bed now…”
“Lemme patch you up first. You might bleed out...scare Tubs.” Schlatt grumbled and you nodded numbly. He helped you to your feet and you swayed, your dad haphazardly bandaged the side of your head and cauterized your horn. That might’ve hurt even more than losing the horn on its own, you held back your whimpers as your dad apologized even more for the pain he caused. “Get some rest alright…I love you.”
“Love you to dad,” You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, you waited until he slipped into his room before you made your way into Tubbo’s. The boy was downright sobbing under his blankets, you pulled back the covers to find him desperately clinging to his bee plush.
“(Y/n)?” He whimpered looking up at you with wide eyes,
“Hey, Tubs…” Your smile was tense and he frowned, “Mr. Bumbles protect you okay? Just like we talked about?” Tubbo nodded lip trembling, he reached his hand up to touch your bandages. You flinched at his touch,
“Where’s your horn.”
“Unimportant. Just got into a little scuffle with dad, nothing your big sister can’t handle. Tubbo why don’t we go see Mr. Phil.”
“But it’s so late?”
“It’s okay. Go pack up a bag, you’ll be there for a while.”
“What about you?”
You sent him another tight-lipped smile, “I can’t stay there with you, unfortunately.”
“Then I don’t want to go!” He huffed defensively, your smile was wiped off your face.
“Not a suggestion-”
“NO! I’m not leaving you!” You grunted feeling him slam into your middle wrapping you in a tight hug. “Not with him...I need you. Who’s gonna protect me? Or read me bedtime stories? Or kiss me goodnight!” He began to cry through his protests and you knelt in front of him, you placed your hand on his cheek.
“Technoblade and Phil can protect you just fine. Wilbur would love to read you and Tommy’s bedtime stories. You’re too old for goodnight kisses-”
“Am not!”
“I can’t protect you anymore, not from dad.” Your voice shook a little before swallowing thickly, Tubbo’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He’s never seen you look so scared, you were serious. “You deserve to grow up normally and happily, with a good dad and family.”
“You're good family.” Tubbo insisted grabbing your bigger hand with his own, you let out a wet laugh and held your other hand to your mouth. Swallowing again before responding to Tubbo’s heartfelt compliment,
“I’ll always be your family and I’ll always be your big sister. But for now, you’ll temporarily be part of Tommy’s family. Just until I’m old enough to take you away from all of this.”
“Promise?” He held out his pinky,
“Promise.” You responded interlocking your pinky with his own, he seemed much more satisfied and willing to listen to you now. “Now go pack up alright? We gotta go before the morning,” Tubbo nodded at you and began to gather his things in his bag. Eventually, he was all packed up and you both snuck out towards Tommy’s home, the side of your head was throbbing and you felt completely off balance stumbling over your feet a few times. Tubbo grew concerned but never actually voiced said concern, the two of you came up on Phil’s doorstep. You loudly began to knock at the door and Technoblade answered sword drawn, glasses were haphazardly thrown on his nose,
“(Y/n)? Tubbo?” He blinked blearily, “it’s like three am what-” Adjusting the glasses he finally got a good look at the both of you, Tubbo was still in his footie pajamas and you had officially bled through your bandages. “Who did it.”
“Technoblade please-”
“Who. Hurt. You.”
“I’m so tired, please just go get your dad.” You pleaded locking your eyes with his own, they softened considerably before muttering under his breath.
“Fine. But I’m getting Wilbur to look at your horn.” He demanded marching away from the door, you gently urged Tubbo inside and you both sat down on their couch. Tubbo yawned sleepily and leaned against your side,
“You can go to sleep. You’re safe now Bumblebee.”
“But you’ll be gone when I wake up…” He held Mr. Bumble closer to his chest and you brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I want you to have Mr. Bumble!” Tubbo held the toy out to you, your lips dipped into a little frown.
“Tubs he’s your favorite-
“He protected me from dad. So I’m sure he’ll protect you too.” You wanted to sob as you took the bee from his hands, you were going to say something else when Phil and Wilbur walked into the room. Phil gave you a pitying smile, before calling Tubbo over to him.
“Hey mate. Let’s get you settled into the guest room for now yeah?” The older man smiled at your brother and he nodded sleepily walking over to Phil. He gave you a look that said we’ll talk later as Wilbur walked over to you, the frown on his face was rock solid.
“You gonna explain yourself?” He scolded you like a parental figure would, you bit your lip and shook your head. Wilbur sighed the bags under his eyes were dark and you murmured a soft apology. He reached out and took your cheek in his palm, he leaned close and you felt his breath on his lips. You felt your cheeks turn pink and he leaned in...to take a better look at your horn.
God, you were so stupid why did you think he was going to kiss you just now?
“Jesus Christ…” He murmured as he unwrapped your wound gently. “They fucked you up honey,” Wilbur said softly, his voice dripping with pure concern, “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m alright...It’ll get better.” You smiled a tight-lipped smile that only caused Wilbur’s eyes to flash with pure rage, “Seriously Will. Please just let it go.”
“I’ll never understand you.” He muttered grumpily, much like his brother did when he greeted you at the door. “How can you not want justice for what they did to you? I don’t understand-” Wilbur blinked a few moments pulling away from you, you refused to meet his eyes. “-Did your dad do this to you?” He saw the fear spark in your eyes, “that fucking piece of shit! TECHNO!”
“Wilbur please no- no please he didn’t mean too he was drunk!” You slapped your hands over your mouth and he looked at you with horror. “Wilbur please don’t do anything he didn’t mean to do it, I have to look out for him!” Your breathing got short and rapid, immediately Wilbur felt bad for being so aggressive, “He’ll die without me.”
“It’s not your job to look after your father.” Wilbur looked at you with pity,
“Yes, it is. He’s my family.”
“Family doesn’t do this to you.” He motioned to your missing horn, the motion now made you feel wildly self-conscious, “they don’t hurt you.” You bit the bottom of your lip so hard it began to bleed,
“Just don’t tell Technoblade. He’ll kill him. You know he will, I don’t want that.” Wilbur didn’t look happy about the situation but he agreed reluctantly, but only if you stayed the night alongside Tubbo. You told him you would,
But you’re a liar.
Phil came back into the room a little later and asked to talk to you privately. He asked you what was going on and you explained the entire situation to him, practically pleading for him to take your baby brother in while you got Schlatt under control. Phil of course agreed, but he was not happy about you going back to your dad, especially since you were already injured. You assured him all would be okay, your dad meant well and with Tubbo out of the house, you can put all your energy into fixing him.
Phil let you go that night, and he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
No one in the Minecraft household heard from you again after that night. You seemed to slip out of everyone's memory, Wilbur met Sally and she and his son consumed his life. Technoblade moved out of the house to spread his wings, and the only person who even seemed to care that you were missing was Tubbo. Yet, even so, you began to slip out of his memory too, barely remembering your face. It broke him to pieces that he couldn’t remember his sister, and when he asked Wilbur about you the man's memory was just as fuzzy. The only thing he had was the letters the both of you sent back and forth to one another, he’d gifted them to Tubbo after he discovered them again under his childhood bed. Tubbo thought that maybe, just maybe, word of their new nation would cause you to come out of hiding.
It didn’t.
Eventually, he had to leave his memory of you behind and focus on helping Tommy and Wilbur. He hoped wherever you were you were proud of him, you wouldn’t want him to be miserable and dwell on you, you’d want him to live.
When he saw his father upon the podium the day of the election all he wanted to do was confront him about you, but there were other things to worry about like the fact that Wilbur and Tommy had just gotten exiled. Schlatt died before he got to ask about you, then right after that Wilbur died by Phil’s hand and everything was blown to shit, he had Tommy and that was all he needed.
Wilbur woke up to the soft chirping of birds and an angel sitting on a hillside. He couldn’t feel the grass under his palms or his heartbeat, but he felt something warm flood through him when he saw the angel. She turned towards him, his memory of her was fuzzy but her name wasn’t, “(Y/n)?”
“Hi Wilby, long time no see.” You smiled softly, both horns were missing but your soft ears twitched eagerly.
“Where...are we?” Wilbur whispered walking over to you to sit by your side, “What happened to you?”
“I lost another horn being stupid. Died from an infection while dad was away on a trip.” You pulled your legs close towards your chest, “you’re dead Will. We’re dead. It’s been quiet here for so long.”
“Dead…” He breathed out the negative memories flooding into his brain; he squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Are we ghosts?” You shrugged your shoulders,
“I don’t know, never tried to...go back,” Wilbur watched as you ran your hand through the grass even though Wilbur knew you couldn’t feel it. “Tubbo would be disappointed in me. So upset I died, I’d rather he not know. Makes it easier on everyone I think.” You turned to him, hair falling in your eyes, they were empty and your skin was so pale, he couldn’t imagine what he looked like in comparison. “Are you going to go back?” You spoke again after a few moments of silence, there was a tense atmosphere that filled the room, you didn’t want to be lonely.
“If you’re here, that’s where I’m going to stay. At least for a little while.” Wilbur looked at you, your eyes wide with shock, a brilliant smile spread across your cheeks.
“Promise?”
“With all my heart honey.”
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nongnaos · 2 years
Text
On Pat's repression.
I feel like I've seen a lot of people talking about Pran repressing his feelings but a lot less people talking about Pat repressing his. I feel like part of that comes down to Pat's generally sunny personality and we don't see him struggling as much. But I think it's very much there if not more so than in Pran.
I think about that scene at the end of ep 2 where Pat's dad comes to visit him in his dorm while Pran hides under the bed and his dad insults Pran while Pat keeps asking him to stop but his dad doesn't care. Pat is very visibly uncomfortable and his dad doesn't care so he changes tactic to joking with his dad in a very "bro" kind of way. Like even when Pat's mum texts his dad inplies that he's cheating on her and then jokes it off in a very "straight man i-hate-my-wife" kind of way? And how his dad kinda does have this bro banter like he treats Pat like a friend (like it has a vibe of like old men in a pub shit talking?) but also constantly reminds him that they are not actually on the same level and he always has power over Pat by reminding him of his responsibilities and making him feel inferior.
But also in that scene it leads to him asking Pat if he's been having women around and searching his bed for evidence while Pat remains exptremely uncomfortable and maybe it's that assumed (read: forced) heterosexuality that has caused Pat to repress his own feelings for men and not realise he's bi sooner. Also maybe a lot of that repression is why we see him fighting so much at the start of the show, he's understandably angry, is unsure why, and doesn't really have any other outlet for those emotions, especially in the time Pran has been gone from his life and he doesn't have that competition to focus on.
I wrote the majority of that some time between ep 10 and 11 airing I think and I wanted to wait to see how the situation with the parents would play out and I'm glad I did, especially in terms of Pat's general emotional repression as opposed to just repressing his sexuality. Pat tells his friends that he tried working with his dad and it didn't go well, they fight a lot. He tells Pran that he hasn't been home in a long time and when he walks through the door his father's first comment is "no hugs for you, what do you want from me?" which can be played off as banter but also maybe shows that Pat doesn't go home unless he needs something. Their relationship isn't the casual bro banter that they had before but it is still plastered with it as a diversion for the cracks in it now. I think he cries going home at the end of ep 11 because he knows that his relationship with his dad is going to be different, he's already realised that he can't forgive him, had some time with Pran where they could be together without their parent's influence and it's what they could have had all the time if his dad hadn't caused this hatred between himself and Dissaya. He has to go back to trying to hide his relationship with Pran, something he very clearly does not want, in order to keep that relationship and appease his father.
I've seen a lot of people say "what was the point, if they're still hiding their relationship and Pat fights with his dad now, he's clearly not happy" and the thing is I really don't think he was happy before either. He was living under his father's thumb, giving up the things he wanted so that he could fulfil his dad's empty dreams. And being with Pran, and the reveal of his dad's part in their upbringing have shown him that that is no way to live. He has to live for himself. They might fight a lot but at least he now can express what he wants and the life he's living is honest in that way. It's not perfect but it's his and he is in control now and that is progress.
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iiraven · 3 years
Text
Odyssey
Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader
Genre: romance, smut
Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)
Word count: 9.8K
Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.
Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!
Attack on Titan Masterlist
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Present day:
If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.
In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.
No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.
It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.
Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.
A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.
You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.
You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.
As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.
And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.
It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.
Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.
If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.
Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.
The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.
Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.
The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.
Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.
Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.
It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.
His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.
You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.
The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.
But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 
You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.
As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.
“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”
You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”
His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”
“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”
He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”
He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.
“Lemnos,” you say.
The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”
And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”
“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”
“You can’t make it impossible either!”
“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.
“What about Tree?”
Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”
“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.
“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.
“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”
“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.
He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”
You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”
“I know you can too,” he assures you.
You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”
It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”
And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.
Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.
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A year ago:
Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.
It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.
Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.
“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”
He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”
The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.
The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.
“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.
When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.
And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.
His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.
There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.
And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.
It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.
He never returned to the sea.
As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.
But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  
Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.
“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”
Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.
And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.
It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.
A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.
The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.
The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.
You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.
The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.
His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.
After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.
But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.
So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.
Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.
And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 
For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.
Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.
What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.
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Eleven months ago:
A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.
“Thank you,” you said, standing up.
You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.
“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”
His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”
“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”
You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.
“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”
Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”
“So, is that a no?”
“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”
He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.
“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.
You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.
Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.
“How long do I have?” You asked instead.
“A year and a day.”
“And what will I get if I figure it out?”
At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.
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Nine months ago:
Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.
And then you were visited at the river.
Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.
You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.
“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.
Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.
“The waterfall would kill you.”
The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”
You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.
“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.
“I might get saved, who knows.”
“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”
“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”
You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.
“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.
“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”
It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”
“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.
“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.
You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”
“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”
You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.
A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.
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Present day:
Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.
You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  
He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  
But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.
In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.
It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.
“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.
You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.
He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.
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Present day:
You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.
You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.
Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.
“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“
“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”
“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”
The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.
What you need is a god.
The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.
She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.
Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.
Well, except one person.
You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.
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Present day:
The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.
This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.
You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.
Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-
“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.
But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.
“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.
Now, you know.
His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”
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Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.
You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.
“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.
When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”
Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.
“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.
“Come here.”
And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.
When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.
Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.
“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”
But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.
“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”
If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”
The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.
“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”
As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-
Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?
“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”
Fuck.
The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 
In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.
“Who is he?” Armin snaps.
“It was only-“
“Who is he?”
You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”
Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”
His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”
You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.
“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”
Slap!
“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”
He slaps you thrice.
“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.
Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.
The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”
You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”
Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”
“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.
“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”
The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.
“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”
And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.
“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”
What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”
“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.
“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.
“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”
“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”
You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.
He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.
When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.
“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”
“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”
He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.
“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”
You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”
Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.
“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”
“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”
“Good girl, good puppygirl.”
When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.
The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“
He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”
He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”
You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”
Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.
At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.
As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”
But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”
The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.
You expect Armin to disappear. 
You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 
Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.
He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.
“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.
It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 
“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.
“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 
“Armin- I- this is. But why?”
For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.
“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.
The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.
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A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies. 
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