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#Lost Ones Weeping matched Levi AND WAS RIGHT
oliverreedmasterass · 11 months
Text
GVF Masterclass Group Chat 
Words:
1.2k
Warnings:
language, crude topics, mentions of alcohol, Oliver Reed just kinda going off the tracks 
Synopsis:
A look at what the group chat between Cal A Bungah, Chip Bunker, Dr. JMK, and Oliver Fucking Reed probably looks like 
Notes:
@jmkho
​ has a god damn gift for writing Oliver Reed dialogue perfectly with the right british accent - thank you for helping out with this my dude 
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Cal A Bungah Bitches
Hey we should make this 
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FUCKING
WOT
WOT THE BLOODY ‘EL IS ‘AT 
THE Chip Bunker 
Can’t. I’ll be at the Masters, you know, winning
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Sorry you can’t have fun Chip
Dr. JMK, Ph.D 
I’ll join if all ingredients are GMO-free, gluten-free, nut-free, fat-free, sugar-free, and organic. 
My body is a temple and I must treat it with the utmost respect. 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
It’ll be vegan 
Idk about the other stuff though
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
I’ll consider it. 
THE Chip Bunker 
I’m surprised ur branching out from margaritas cal 
FUCKING
BOooOZE 
DID THE BOY SAY FUCKIN’ BOOOZE 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Now you’ve got Oliver’s attention
FUCKING
EYE’ CANT FIND MY BLOODY TROUSERS 
SUM FUCKIN WANKA’ MUSTA’ STOLEN ‘EM 
THE Chip Bunker
Oliver what 
FUCKING
I TELL DIS BLOKE DOWN AT THE PUB THAT DEY ARE LEVIS
AN’ THE BASTARD TOOK ‘EM STRAIGHT OFF MY FUCKIN ARSE
THE BLOODY MAGICIAN
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Release yourself from the material world, brother. 
It binds you down and distracts yourself from the beauty of the natural world. 
FUCKING
THOSE WERE ME BEST FUCKIN TROUSERS
GONE WITH THE WIND DEY R’ 
JUST LIKE THAT BLOODY MOVIE 
WITH CLARK GABLE
A LEGENDARY GENT WHO KNOWS CLASS 
LIKE JIMI HENDRIX 
Cal A Bungah Bitches has muted FUCKING
THE Chip Bunker
thank u
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Seriously whose idea was it to give him a phone
He was better off with the carrier pigeon
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Birds should not be exploited for free labor. 
At least the phone isn’t conscious. 
Yet. 
THE Chip Bunker
scary thought
thx doctor
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Man has flown too close to the sun with modern technology. 
It’s only a matter of time before AI and robots and drones begin to inherit our humanness. 
We will be nothing in a silicon world. 
Just withered elements of the earth. 
 Cal A Bungah Bitches
I kinda like this one too 
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THE Chip Bunker
oh jesus
you’re throwing me off my game 
I’m not gonna be able to focus on my swing
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Gotta work on my swing
Gotta do my own thing
THE Chip Bunker
did you just quote fucking high school musical 2 at me
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Banger 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Where is Oliver? 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Muted that shithead 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
I will not accept that. 
Exclusion isolates the ego and convinces the inner self that they aren’t worthy. 
That’s a lot of damage. 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Ugh. 
Cal A Bungah Bitches has unmuted FUCKING
FUCKING
AN’ THAT’S HOW JIMI FUCKIN HENDRIX BOUGHT AN OLD WANKA LIKE ME A GLASS OF JACK IN ‘67 WHILE EYE’ WAS ON A TWO MUNFF BENDA’ IN TIJUANA
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Welcome back, brother. 
We’re so pleased to have you here. 
You are worthy. 
FUCKING
WOT 
ME FUCKIN WOR’VY
HA
EYE’M WORVY OV’ FINDING MY FUUUUUCKING TROUSERS
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Maybe you’re wearing your pants Oliver
FUCKING
YER JOKIN 
AY 
WHAT KIND OV A… 
OV COURSE EYE’M NOT WEARIN MY FUCKIN TROUSERS
OTHERWISE I WUDDN’T BE SO FFFUCKING IRRITATED RIGHT NOW
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Worth a try 
THE Chip Bunker
thinking about buying these so I can bring my A game in style
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Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Wearing animal skin is not defined as style. 
I weep over what capitalism has done to the power of the mind. 
THE Chip Bunker
buzzkill 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Hey as long as the shoes match your belt, right chip? 
Wait that’s the rule right 
THE Chip Bunker
yup fashion 101
FUCKING
I LOST ME BELT TOO 
THE Chip Bunker
I’ll get u a new belt oliver 
with some of my winnings
after I win the Masters
FUCKING
AN’ THEN EYE’LL USE THAT BLEEDING BELT TO CRACK THE FUCKING SKULL OF THE TWAT WHO STOLE MY TROUSERS
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Do not let anger drive you, Oliver. 
It will hurt you more than the one you wish to hurt. 
Forgiveness is the chosen path to cleanse the soul.
FUCKING
GET ME A BELT WITH A BIG BASTARD OF A BUCKLE ON IT 
EYE’ WANT TO HEAR HIS HEAD BREAK
Cal A Bungah Bitches
How the hell are you not on a watchlist Oliver
FUCKING
EY BUT I AM 
EYE’M NOT ALLOWED IN THE STATE OF FLORIDA
THE 80S WERE A FUCKIN BLUR MY BOY
THE Chip Bunker
oh god 
FUCKING
ALL IN GOOD FUN THOUGH, ALL IN GOOD FUN
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Florida of all places 
FUCKING
AH
WOULD’YA LOOK AT ‘AT
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
What? 
FUCKING
I FOUND ME TROUSERS
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Where were they??? 
THE Chip Bunker
$20 says he was wearing them the whole time
FUCKING
WRONG
MR. CAN GET A BALL IN A HOLE BUT CAN YOU GET YOUR HOLE IN A BALL
 THE Chip Bunker
the hell is that supposed to mean
Cal A Bungah Bitches
??? 
FUCKING
THEY WERE IN THE OVEN
Cal A Bungah Bitches
The oven???
FUCKING
EYE’ MUST AV’ LEFT THEM IN THERE 
GOTTEN WET OR SUMMIN
THEY NEEDED TO DRY 
AH FUCK 
I ONLY FUCKIN BAKED THEM
THE’YRE ALL CHARRED
THE Chip Bunker
you guys are distracting me 
I nearly missed check in for the Masters
which, you know, I’m gonna win 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Yes, Chip: envision success.
It will become your reality.
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Take a shot everytime Dr. JMK says something annoying
Jk don't 
We’d all be dead 
FUCKING
WARM TROUSERS THESE ARE 
I’LL HAVE TO DO THAT MORE BLOODY OFTEN
ME CHEEKS ARE SIZZLING
THE Chip Bunker
sounds like the baking is already starting at oliver’s house
you better get over there Cal 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Omw now I need to see the baked pants
Wait are your pants vegan 
FUCKING
I WONT LET YOU EAT ‘EM
PRICK 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
I’m coming over too. 
I am yet to experience the wonders of baked pants. 
FUCKING
THEY SMELL LIKE GARLIC 
NOT SURE WHY 
I DONT LIKE GARLIC 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
But garlic is one of the wonders of the world.
Pair it with tomatoes and some basil and you’ve got a heavenly sauce. 
Did you know that if a tomato touches another tomato they are fucking. 
Cal A Bungah Bitches
No don’t sexualize the fruit JMK
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Everything on this planet fucks. 
We are all aligned. 
FUCKING
NOW YER SPEAKIN’ ME FUCKIN LANGUAGE BOY 
NOTHIN BETTER ‘AN THE SWEET SWEET RELEASE
THE Chip Bunker
taking this gc off my phone
y’all are weird
I need to find more golf friends 
THE Chip Bunker has left the chat. 
FUCKING
SEX MAKES THE WORLD GO ROUND
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Oh shit
Chip actually left 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
Sometimes it’s easier to run from the truth. 
He just needs his time to come around. 
FUCKING
EYE COME ‘ROUND ALL THE TIME
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Jesus christ 
What is wrong with you both
FUCKING
EYE’M OLIVER FFFUCKKKKKING REED BOY
WOTS WRONG WITH YEW 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
We’re all sex-loving creatures of habit. 
The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can start to enjoy life. 
FUCKING
BAKE YER FUCKIN CAKE CAL 
AN’ THEN IM GONNA FUCK IT
SIT ON IT WITH ME WARM ARSE
Cal A Bungah Bitches
Cal A Bungah Bitches has left the chat. 
Dr. JMK, Ph.D has renamed the chat “Sex is Life”
FUCKING
AY 
SEX IS LIFE
YEW GET IT MATE
Dr. JMK, Ph.D
We are so aligned right now.
35 notes · View notes
thedailyvio · 3 years
Photo
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Day 21
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meenah-chan · 3 years
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Imma bully them for the swimsuits
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Lucifer:
You wear a full body suit but no sandals or anything???
Why do ya have shorts over your wet suit
Don’t wanna risk showing bulge ????
Mammon:
You’re normal
Also probably lost some of the jewelry then cried for half an hour until he sees a bird with it and fights the bird
Doesn’t really tan noticeably
Levi:
WHY DO YOU HAVE GOGGLES
Are you like- a sea creatures-
Why do you have goggles-
Shirt reminds me of a goldfish
Satan:
HE IS WEARING BOTH SLEEVES
Favorite satan outfit
It’s not horrifying
Is that a hair tie or a bracelet??
Asmo:
Lol you gonna have funny tan lines
He spent three hours getting his shirt just right
Cries when he gets sand under his foot or well on sandal- ya know what I mean
Beel:
Athlete. That’s it.
Normal
His bulge shows
He doesn’t notice
Belphie:
Uhhhhhh- doesn’t that yellow scarf thing means he’s into water sports-
I’m surprised he has matching sandals
Bitch probably lost one after 10 minutes
Of fucken COURSE his shirt is cow print
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Luci is so conservative, the only parts we deserve to see is his hands, feet and face 😆😆
Mammon: that or he lost it while swimming, and his jewelry is now part of the treasures hidden in the belly of the ocean 😂😂 To think Mammon only wears expensive things, he'll weep for months 😆😆
Levi: If he cannot be a the TSL Henry, then he'll just be Henry the goldfish 😂😂
Satan: I agree, tho I also kinda miss his past beach outfit, especially that 🌺 😭💖💖
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Asmo with tan lines on his arm and it's pretty obvious when he's in his demon outfit 😂😂
Beel as cast of Free! 😂🤣😂🤣😂
Belphie probably use the scarf to block the sun and sand from his face while he is sleeping 😂 He may lost his slippers for an hour already without knowing since he's sleeping the entire time 😂🤣
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thero0ks · 3 years
Text
The Ghost of You <Miche Zacharius>
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hurt my own feelings while writing this. 
TW: Death/Grief, Brief discussion of wounds
Blades of grass slipped through her fingers as she watched the stars blanket the sky. Wishing on shooting stars and birthday candles had left her feeling empty. Perhaps the cosmos would send him a message. 
Her eyes held the universe, and Miche felt insignificant in her presence. One hand propped behind her head, the other resting at her side. His large hand slipped into hers engulfing it. Always too cold as of late. He didn’t care for the stars in the sky. The only thing he wished to do was observe her, and he had all the time in the world to trace out every little detail. 
“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured as his fingertips skimmed across her skin. To describe her as a goddess would be an insult. She was so much more than that. Divine, perfectly sculpted, and the only thing that gave meaning to his existence. 
Longing eyes flickered over to him, and his breath caught in his throat. He would rip apart kingdoms for that gaze alone. “Miche,” his name fell from her lips. He wanted to hear her saying it like a prayer in his ear as he made her see stars while he brought her to a state of euphoria. 
Instead he simply cupped her face. “I’m here,” he assured. “I’ll always be here.”
A known hard ass to the cadets, he watched them all mutter curses when she ordered them to start their exercises. Walking amongst the cadets she commented on their form, gently adjusting them until it was perfect. 
“We’ve lost so many of the veterans,” Erwin sighed, as he observed the training. Levi nodding in acknowledgment. 
How many veterans were left Miche wondered. Nanaba? Gelgar? The loss of the Levi squad was a major blow to the scout regiment, but they had a lot of young blood. More cadets then Miche had seen in years. Erwin had entrusted their learning to the person he had spent hours training. The Commander had made a wise decision.
“Remember cadets, as long as we keep fighting, we haven’t lost.”
Pride swelled in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he said softly, arms crossed on his chest. She’d stepped into the roll of captain seamlessly. He recalled her being a wide eyed cadet when he first saw her. Earning his respect with her headstrong determination. She never ran from hard work, and she was the kind that would pick up the slack promising she could shoulder the load.
Miche was by her side as soon as the cadets were dismissed. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he slung his arm around her shoulders. “I’m so proud of you,” he exclaimed. The training grounds were empty and he heard the small sigh that escaped her body.
“I’m not you Miche. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” she groaned. Fingers running through her (dark/light) locks. 
His heart dropped at her insecurities. She was her own worst critic. Miche knew it was a coping mechanism she’d developed in her childhood. If she said those hateful things then no one could hurt her with their criticism. Perhaps one day she would see how brilliant she was. Miche hoped that day would come soon.
Her voice surprised him as he turned to see her holding a white mug. The liquid steaming in the chilly room. Floorboards creaking under her feet as she approached Erwin’s desk. 
“I brought you some coffee Commander,” Y/N said, placing the ceramic mug on his desk. 
“I think you’ve earned the right to call me Erwin,” his blue eyes sparkled. Putting the pen down he leaned back in his chair. Eager for the prospect of conversation with the (petite/lean/curvy) woman. 
The smell of coffee engulfed Miche’s senses. He knew that look in the Commander’s eye. The prospect of attention from the divine creature seated in front of him had stirred excitement within the intelligent man. Miche kept his distance a dull ache in his heart as he observed the two. 
Dainty fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t stay up so late Erwin,” she softly chastised. 
Miche caught the upturned corner of Erwin’s mouth. Knowing he was in her orbit of concern made the Commander happy. No one cared as much as her. She would do anything within her power to help those she loved. The balance she kept between a strong heart, and a caring heart was mesmerizing, and Miche never could pinpoint how she did it. 
“You are the one that brought me coffee,” Erwin stated, taking a sip of the bitter beverage. 
An amused smile played on her lips. “I knew you wouldn’t listen to my advice.” 
“Tell you what,” Erwin said leaning forward, placing the mug on the edge of his desk. “Let’s go for a walk.” 
Miche watched the gentle exchange of words. For once she didn’t look like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. 
Her hand slid into Erwin’s as he pulled her out of her chair. Leading her out of the scout headquarters they walked along the pond. Erwin recounting stories from his cadet days pulled harmonic laughs from her lips. 
Miche followed a few steps behind. Eyes fixed on the way the moonlight danced across her skin. Biting back the jealousy when Erwin took her hands in his.
“Your hands are cold,” he commented, trapping them between his large palms.
“They’ve been cold for months,” Miche commented, sadness coating his voice. 
Doe eyes blinked up at the Commander. He was so gentle with her as if he was worried one miscalculated step would leave her heart shattered. “Can I kiss you?” Erwin’s voice came out in earnest. 
“Yes,” Miche’s voice was just above a whisper. “Just say yes.”
He never thought he’d find himself pushing the love of his life into the arms of another man, but he couldn’t bear to see her go another day with cold hands, or a smile be a rarity that crossed her lips. Not when she had the most beautiful smile. He watched her hesitate, and he felt the hope shatter within. 
“Miche,” it was only a name, but it was an answer. Erwin leaned back a sad smile gracing his lips. He could handle her sad heart, but she wasn’t ready for him. Years he had waited for her, and a few more wouldn’t hurt. 
“I wish I had found you first,” he admitted. Tracing her cheek with his thumb he grabbed her hand to lead her back inside. 
Miche stood still watching their retreating forms. He wanted to scream until he was hoarse. If letting her go would make her happy he was willing to do that. He would fight every selfish desire that arose in him just so she could be free. Love was painful, and this was a burden he was willing to bear if it meant seeing her happy once more. Loyalty is what drew him to her, and he knew that it was something she refused to change. It was him, it was always him. Just like she promised. In this life or the next she would always choose him. The greedy part in him danced with joy, but the selfless part ached at her agony. Her happiness is what mattered most to him, and he just wanted to see her smile. 
She sat between his legs. Her back against his chest as she flipped through a novel. Miche rested his chin on her shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around her. 
“Miche look at this,” she said with a giggle, as her eyes flickered up. 
The haze of the fantasy world she was wrapped up in faded from her eyes, and reality slowly settled in. Her hand covered her mouth at the sight of the empty room. The book was long forgotten as it fell to the floor. Miche gripped her tightly in attempts to ground her.
“I’m here honey,” he said softly in her hair. Desperate to stop the tears that dropped down her chin. “I’ll always be here,” he promised, as he felt her body shake with sobs. 
Helplessness filled him. He would follow her to the ends of the earth but she would never have a clue. The promise he made to her he had made certain to keep. He would always be there, but she would never know it. Was he living in his own personal hell he wondered.
Ghosts surrounded him on the battlefield. The blood soaked ground made the earth spongy under his feet. Lingering smoke settled in the air, and the debris that flew past him was nothing more than a nuisance. Cries of death echoed all around, but there was only one person he hoped to find. Erwin would forgive him for not meeting him. There was one last thing his soul had to take care of before moving on.Trapped under the buckskin horse, her breathing was labored. Miche ran to her desperate to catch her in time.  
“Miche?” His lanky frame filled her vision. Tears of joy dripped down her cheeks as she reached for him.
“I’m here baby,” he said softly grabbing her hand. “I’ve always been here,” he assured placing a kiss to her open palm. 
“I know I should fight, but I’m too tired Miche.” Y/N confessed, as blood passed her lips. 
Miche took in her broken form. The Cavalry charge Erwin had led left the scouts completely slaughtered. Including his celestial being. A tragic death to match his own. Her white uniform was covered in so much blood he couldn’t decipher the origins of her wounds. 
He watched the light slowly dim in her eyes, and Miche wanted to weep at the sight. Uncertainty plagued his mind. Where would they both go from here? He didn’t know what awaited them on the other side. He had refused to move on without her. He had one promise left to fulfill, and as her body grew cold he knew the end was nigh. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so scary if he traveled the road hand in hand with her.  
A small hand on his shoulder startled him. “Miche?” 
Her voice was like honey in his ears. Turning to see her, the joy that filled him at the sight of her soft smile was abundant. He eagerly took her hand to tower over her. Cupping her face he brought her into a passionate kiss. It felt like an eternity since she looked at him. These past months she had only looked through him. His one sided affection was worth it as he held her in his arms. 
Home. She felt like home. He wanted to get lost in her kiss for eternity, but she pulled away. The kiss was too quick, and he craved more as he chased her lips. He felt the smile that crossed her lips as he kissed her. Fingers buried in her hair as he kissed the hurt away. 
“It’s time honey,” she said softly against his lips. 
“What’s going to happen to us?” He inquired, gazing into her (e/c) eyes.
Her eyes softened at his uncertainty. “I don’t know, but whatever it is we’ll be together.” She assured him. “I promise.” Her fingers stroked his face, her eyes full of adoration. “Thank you for being there.” 
“Always.”
50 notes · View notes
earlgreyteaforhere · 4 years
Note
book recommendations?
Hello Anon! This is very vague, but I will take this as an opportunity to recommend some wonderful books across all sorts of different genres. Put on your seat belt, wear a mask, log into your goodreads app, and prepare to be bombarded with an even longer never ending TBR list. 
||Nonfiction||
Notes of A Native Son by James Baldwin: If you haven’t read anything by Baldwin yet, this is a great place to start. This book is a collection of ten nonfiction essays primarily focusing on issues of race in America and Europe. Baldwin’s writing style is unlike any other, and in my opinion, is the equivalent of jazz on the page if such a thing does exist. His words will get you lost and challenge your understanding of the world as you know it, only to bring you to the profound realization that you did not in fact know the world very well at all. 
The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison: I wouldn’t necessarily call this a medical memoir, rather this book is a collection of essays focusing on empathy via stories relating in some way to medical topics. Jamison’s writing style is highly engaging and she forces the reader to ask themselves some very difficult questions about themself and their role in the world. Empathy is a complex thing, and if you’re interested in understanding the nuances of the subject, and perhaps learning more about yourself, I would very much recommend this book. 
||Historical Fiction||
Small Island by Andrea Levy: Set in and around WWII, the story follows the main characters Hortense, Gilbert, Queenie, and Bernard in a rather nonlinear recounting of events taking place in Jamaica, England, America, and India. The novel explores the complicated issues of Great Britain’s colonization of Jamaica, and the rough transition for Jamaican’s living in England to help support the wartime effort. I listened to the audiobook for this one and the voice actors did a fantastic job of giving each character a distinct and easily identifiable voice and personality. I think there is also a BBC adaptation of the book. 
The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom: Not sure if this technically qualifies as historical fiction, but I’m putting it here because it does a great job of tracing a lot of the evolution of modern popular music. I will never stop recommending this book. The novel is narrated by the entity of music and follows the life of Frankie Presto in a sort of Forrest Gump like fashion. I won’t say much about the plot, but I will tell you this book will make you laugh, cry, and everything in between. Please read this book. 
||Fiction||
Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis: This book is told from the pov of Clay, a wealthy kid from California who goes to college in the Northeast. The novel follows his time at home during winter break and highlights the more unsightly aspects of the rich elite on the West Coast. This book made me feel sort of dead inside and pessimistic about the world, so I’m not sure it would be the best book to read right now given current events. But if your mental health is stable and in a good place, this is a quick read and an all around good book. 
Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan: While the movie received some harsh criticisms, I really enjoyed this book. Kwan has a unique style and is able to tell the story from many different points of view without the characters getting lost or blending together. Often times I have a difficult time keeping track of names and relationships if there is a large cast of characters, but Kwan does a fantastic job. If you enjoy juicy family drama and heartwarming friendships, I recommend giving this a read. It’s also set in Singapore which was a first for me to read about and definitely convinced me to add a trip to Singapore on my bucketlist. 
||YA Fiction||
We All Looked Up by Tommy Wallach: I read this book in two days when I was fifteen and it immediately found a permanent place in my heart. This book is about the potential end of the world from the perspectives of high school students in a style reminiscent of The Breakfast Club. I remember reading this and thinking “wow, this dude just really gets it” because Wallach perfectly captures my teenage angsty self. This is also a fitting read since it seems like the world is ending these days. I also recommend Thanks For the Trouble by Tommy Wallach because it’s an incredibly unique, intriguing, and just plain weird story. Wallach enjoys ambiguity in his stories, so if you’re into that kind of negative capability, then his books might just be a good match for you. 
The Illuminae Files by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff: This is technically YA sci-fi, but this is my list and I’m putting it here anyway. I’m personally not much of a sci-fi reader, so I don’t remember why I thought to pick up this series, but I am so glad I did. Illuminae has pretty much every sci-fi trope you can think of all wrapped into one marvelous multi-media kick-ass space story. The books themselves look thicc, but don’t let that turn you away. Despite the books having many pages, the story is told through emails, security camera footage logs, journal pages, text messages, and many pictures which makes for a speedy read. I recommend the Illuminae Files for those who don’t read sci-fi, but are willing to give it a try. 
Emergency Contact by Mary H. K. Choi: I read this book at pretty much the perfect time in my life and I think that’s probably why I enjoyed it so much. The book is about Penny and her journey as she begins college at UT Austin and the anxieties/challenges that come along with that. Friendships, mother/daughter relationships, romance, drama, and a whole lot of social awkwardness. I’d recommend this to college students and or those about to go to college because I think most will find this book quite relatable in at least some way. The book reassures us that we are not alone in our awkward transition stages of life. 
All For the Game by Nora Sakavic: This series is about a fictional sport called exy. Yes, that’s right, I’m recommending you books about a sport. Exy is sort of like lacrosse, but like better, more aggressive, and more drama. The series is about the main character, Neil Josten, who is on the run from his mob boss dad. Neil finds solace in exy and is actually not that bad at it. He goes to college, joins the Palmetto State Foxes exy team, and it’s all uphill (downhill?) from there. This series has unforgettable characters, lots of drugs and violence (don’t read if that triggers you), lots of gay, and lots of exy. For a book series about a sport, All for the game is amazing and I recommend it to everyone looking for a binge read. Note: I’ve heard physical copies are hard to find, but the ebook version is available through the kindle app and probably other places too. 
||YA Fantasy||
Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas: oooooookay here we go. This series makes me weep just thinking about it, that’s how much I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that just hit me. so. hard. So many emotions. The series follows Celaena Sardothein, an assassin, and essentially her journey to becoming herself. Vague, I know, but I seriously cannot give anything away. SJM’s worldbuilding is next level and her characters are probably my favorite aspect of any and all of her books. I’ll also recommend her A Court of Thorns and Roses series here for the same reasons even though it’s been rebranded as “new adult fantasy.” Celaena is probably my favorite main character of all time, and I cannot fully express how much her story means to me. Throne of Glass is easy to follow and great for getting into the fantasy genre if it’s something you’ve never read before. Please give these books a try, I am begging you. 
The Remnant Chronicles by Mary E. Pearson: The first book of this trilogy easily has one of the most shocking plot twists I have ever read. If that doesn’t pique your interest, I don’t know what will. Sorry. The Remnant Chronicles is a sort of milder fantasy than Throne of Glass, but fantasy nonetheless and super underrated. I’d recommend this series to people who enjoy stories about the politics of fantasy worlds, romance, and friendship. I let my little sister read my copies and she got through them in less than a week (I think) and could not stop raving about them. 
The Raven Cycle by Maggie Steifvater: I think magical realism is a better genre for these books, but I’m putting them here under YA fantasy anyway. Fight me. Above anything else, you will fall in love with these characters. Set in Virginia, the Raven Cycle is honestly strange (in a good way) and tells the story of a group of friends’ quest to find some sleeping Welsh king. While the series is mostly about finding that damn king, there is a healthy amount of romance, swearing, clairvoyance, yogurt, latin, and all around good times. Steifvater’s writing style is unique, and with that it is admittedly a bit difficult to get into at first. But please stick with it! I promise it’s worth it! One of my favorite series ever, highly recommend. 
||Short Stories||
Here is a list of short stories I enjoy. Not gonna do a whole synopsis for each, but take my word for it and pls read them.
-Tall Tales from the Mekong Delta by Kate Braverman
-Two Kinds by Amy Tan 
-The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
-Jealous Husband Returns in Form of Parrot by Robert Olen Butler
-The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by Ursula K. Le Guin
-Girl by Jamaica Kincaid
-The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe
-The Secret Goldfish by David Means
-The Lottery by Shirley Jackson
-A Temporary Matter by Jhumpa Lahiri
-The Cavemen in the Hedges by Stacey Richter
-The Bad Graft by Karen Russell
-Eveline by James Joyce
I hope these recommendations are helpful in contributing to your summer reading and on-going TBR list. This is probably not what you were expecting when you simply asked “book recommendations?” but here you go. Happy reading, whoever you are. 
:)
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beyondmistland · 6 years
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Westerosi Worldbuilding Wednesday: Hidden History of the North: Lost Lore (Part II)
 Letter #7: The mountain clans were the first to bend the knee to Winterfell. In exchange they were promised protection from their enemies, chief among them House Blackwood and the Ironborn.
 Letter #8: The bloody war between House Stark and the sorcerous King of the Ravenwood lasted nearly two generations before Winterfell finally emerged victorious.
 Letter #9: Moat Cailin was built through the combined efforts of the Marsh King, the Red King, and the King of Winter after an army led by Andahar I got past the Neck.
 Letter #10: The most infamous King of Winter prior to the War Across the Water was undoubtedly Cregan the Lout, a monstrous giant of a man said to become an equally monstrous wolf whenever there was a full moon. (Many Maesters believe his black reputation has more to do with the fact that people at court frequently disappeared during his reign rather than anything supernatural.)
 Letter #11: When House Glover rose in rebellion and then refused the unusually generous terms offered by Gaven the Proud, they were reduced to the rank of master as punishment for their crimes against the crown.
 Letter #12: The nadir of Stark power came during what smallfolk call the Bad Times and Maesters the Twenty Years' Trial.
 Letter #13: This dark period began with Eddard the Fool. A vain and frivolous man, he surrounded himself with fools and lickspittles who encouraged him to make war upon the Red King, already then known as Royce (I) the Ruin. Unwisely, he heeded their advice. Marching out the gates of Winterfell with an army composed entirely of Stark levies King Eddard linked up with Jon Umber, King of the Last Hearth, at Long Lake before entering the Lonely Hills. Alas for the King of Winter, his campaign ended much quicker than expected for the Red King had long been anticipating conflict and to that end had made preparations accordingly. Thus, the Three Kings' War came to an end less than two years after it began at the Battle in the Lonely Hills, where Royce I ambushed the Stark-Umber host after spending months killing their outriders and foragers, starving them of food and water, and leading them into traps.
 Letter #14: Amongst the slain were both the King of Winter and the King of the Last Hearth. King Eddard's son and heir, Elric (the Alchemist), was captured defending his father's corpse from a dozen enemies. Rather than have him flayed however, the Red King granted Elric his freedom in exchange for the promise that the elder of his twin sons, Ellard, would wed the Dreadfort Princess, Mariah. A year later Elric died of a sudden illness (though many to this day suspect that it was, in truth, poison by one of the Red King's agents).
 Letter #15: Upon donning the Crown of Swords, Ellard shocked his court by revealing that he had wed (and impregnated) the Lady Robyn Ryswell. When word reached the Dreadfort Royce I's response was swift and certain: If the King of Winter did not set aside the Pale Mare in favor of his daughter there would be war. Ellard responded by sending back the messenger short a tongue so that the Red King could see how he dealt with "empty threats". Thus, began the Cruel Wooing, which lasted little over a year before coming to an end at the treacherous Battle of the Whetstone, where King Ellard's host was attacked from three sides and driven into the river.
 Letter #16: The King of Winter survived the carnage, albeit at the cost of all his blood-brothers. (Though an informal brotherhood, Maesters have taken to calling these royal companions the Wolfguard.) With the Red King hot on his heels, Ellard rode hard for Winterfell, where he procured a fresh horse before riding out the Hunter's Gate with a wet nurse and his newborn daughter in tow. (Queen Robyn had died in the birthing bed after a grueling, three-day labor.)
 Letter #17: His younger twin brother, Brandon (the Bad), was thus left with the choice of whether or not to surrender Winterfell without a fight. Upon seeing the size of the army coming over the horizon, the prince made up his mind, striking the banners. What then followed was less pleasant than expected.
 Letter #18: Royce I declared Brandon the rightful Lord of Winterfell and wed his daughter to the prince, who was powerless to stop the Red King from occupying the Wolfswood after placing a bounty on the elder Stark brother's head in what came to be known as the Wolf Hunt. (Brandon died a year later after falling off his horse though many to this day suspect his death was, in truth, unnatural given that it occurred mere days after the birth of his only son and child, Rickon.)
 Letter #19: For the better part of a generation the Red King ruled Winterfell in all but name, his men terrorizing the countryside in an effort to find Ellard and his daughter.
 Letter #20: They never succeeded for the smallfolk not only sheltered the pair but also struck back against the "skinners" whenever they could despite the ravages of an onerous five-year winter. And so the corpses began to pile up until a petty lord fallen on hard times betrayed the rightful King of Winter, who was presented to Royce I in chains.
 Letter #21: Rather than simply take his head, the Red King had Ellard gelded so that he could serve as a proper fool for his nephew.
 Letter #22: Though he performed this unhappy task without complaint for more than two years many could not help but look askance at his habit of carving wooden hooks by the hearth at night, particularly when he began muttering about how these "sons" would avenge his mutilation.
 Letter #23: When first told, Royce I gave a rare laugh, believing the Stark king had gone mad.
 Letter #24: Little did he know how wrong he was for one night Ellard snuck into the Red King's chambers with the help of a blacksmith and pinned him beneath his bed sheets using those selfsame hooks, after which he set the whole tower aflame before fleeing into the night. (By this point Royce I had sent most of his surviving host home. The few who did remain with him at Winterfell died that same night at the hands of the household.)
 Letter #25: Woken by the screams, the Dowager Queen quickly fled the castle along with her son and a guard by the name of Walder.
 Letter #26: When they arrived at the Dreadfort the new Red King promised to support his nephew's claim to Winterfell and to that end raised a fresh host. This army was then stiffened by the arrival of men from Blackpool, Oldcastle, and the Last Hearth. All told, the Red King commanded an army ten thousand strong.
 Letter #27: The King of Winter gathered swords about himself as well though in the end he commanded only eight thousand, his chief supporters being House Glover, House Cerwyn, House Mormont, House Talhart, and the mountain clans.
 Letter #28: The two armies came together north of Castle Cerwyn in the midst of a heavy snowstorm and though the struggle lasted well into the night neither side was able to claim victory.
 Letter #29: As a result, Ellard and the Red King exchanged missives for nine days. On the tenth, they at last came to an agreement.
 Letter #30: Ellard (now known as the Eunuch) would be Lord of Winterfell for the remainder of his life. In return, he agreed to acknowledge Rickon as his heir. (These terms would be sealed by the marriage of Rickon to Ellard's daughter, Serena, once the former came of age.)
 Letter #31: Thus ended the Great Battle of Winterfell. (Anywhere between four to six thousand men lost their lives that day, making it the bloodiest battle in the history of the North up to that point.)
 Letter #32: Ellard would devote the rest of his middling reign to rebuilding Winterfell.
 Letter #33: Rickon was a very different sort of man and so he devoted most of his reign to conquering the petty kings that had betrayed House Stark earlier. (Ulwyck Umber met a particularly gruesome end, having been torn apart by horses on the King of Winter's orders. As a result, Rickon is known in the chronicles as "the Ripper".) (Over a hundred years would pass before a Bolton of the Dreadfort again wed a Stark of Winterfell and just as before, the offspring of that union was one of the North's more infamous kings: Brandon Ice-Eyes.)
 Letter #34: Three hundred years after Rodrik Stark won Bear Island in a wrestling match, Dorren the Glam seized control of Skagos early in his reign only for that dreadful island to rebel once he grew old. The uprising lasted for a whole generation, coming to an end only when three champions of House Stark defeated three champions representing House Crowl, House Magnar, and House Stane.
 Letter #35: In the aftermath of their great victory at the Weeping Water, the Hungry Wolf turned upon his erstwhile ally with a vengeance, slaughtering the Red King's men, seizing his ships, and compelling him to do homage at the point of a bloody sword.
 Letter #36: During the blood-soaked reign of Theon the Hungry Wolf, Winterfell's writ extended as far south as the Fingers for a time. (This partial conquest of the Vale did not even outlast the King of Winter, who was more interested in conquest than consolidation.)
Letter #37: His grandson made common cause with Robar II but was unable to land in the Vale until after the Battle of Seven Stars due to a series of storms sweeping the Narrow Sea. (According to a translation of certain runic records at Winterfell by Maester Halys, the Grey Wolf may very well have intended to betray Robar II after they had dealt with their common foe so as to claim the whole of the Vale for himself.)
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caeliri · 7 years
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All Things; Peace - pt. 2
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All Things; Peace pt. 1
Hallowhearth was haloed by Summerglen’s only graveyard, a sprawling, hilled yard of stones dappled in moss and worn by the ages. No plot was unmarked, though all were in a state of poor tending; the young Dame had only begun work to repair and revive the graveyard when the call for deployment took her attention from her estate and turned it towards the southern isles.
Seeing them, now, brought a sudden rise of shame in Caeliri as she pulled open the wrought iron gates that barred the interior gardens from the graveyard, and her eyes shot down to the tips of her toes. So far, she’d allowed herself a measure of forgiveness for all her many errors, because she was new to this, because the expectations levied on her shoulders were many for her age, but Light, she felt sick now to think how far she continued to fall from the mark.
They deserve someone better, was all she could think, even as she drew a deep breath and pushed the gates wide open until they clattered and stuck. Anyone better.
Weaving through the flower-speckled graves, Caeliri muttered the words she’d read again and again and again and again, hoping they would stick;
“A tree is more than wood for the hearth, and so too are we more than flesh and bone for this life; flesh may turn to soil, and bone to dust, but those we love will live eternal, in every breath of the wind and ever glimmer of sunlight--”
Beyond the ivy-wrapped iron, the citizens of Summerglen stood huddled around the stone arch that upheld the gate. They wore the colors of silt and soil, browns that ranged from stone to chocolate, to match the earth that swallowed the deceased. Some wore gowns, others trousers, their clothing stripped of what little finery they owned. Their dress was modest and Caeliri made an effort to match; no gallant gown, no medals, no armor - she wore simple trousers, thigh high boots with a heel that sunk into the dew moistened earth, and a shirt that, for once, covered the pale expanse of her belly.
For a moment she hesitated, feeling a gurgling anxiety rise in her belly, but she stepped forward--
And felt a hand on her shoulder. “Let the servants open the gate,” Liadove’s voice caused her to start, and Caeliri’s ears shot straight up; she hadn’t heard him approach, nor seen the Firestorm servants - in their usual uniforms of gold and blue and blazing white - arrive with him, but the two men moved like hawks to the gate, blurs of blues with swift, sure hands that had the gates unlocked and parted to allow the mourners passage before she could even offer protest.
“I thought your disappointment might melt your boots to the hearth’s floor,” Caeliri breathed, unable to help the corner of her mouth from quirking upwards as she flicked her eyes over to her Captain of the Guard.
“In the end, the choice is always yours,” Liadove offered, “I’m only here to serve your will, Dame Caeliri… and assure no blade meets your throat beneath the veil of night.” At that, he tightened his grip on her shoulder; she could feel the fondness in his fingers, and it brightened her smile. “My opinion matters little--”
“But it matters,” Caeliri offered, bowing her head politely to the mourners as they wandered into the graveyard, letting her voice dip low to mask their conversation beneath the idle murmurs of the new arrivals. “I just don’t always agree.” Lifting a hand, Caeliri squeezed Liadove’s, before pulling away from him.
Gathered about the fresh dug graves, the crowd arranged itself without direction; the families took the front, the rest of the mourners filled in around them organically, until the gathered formed a large mass that roamed over the hill. A somber cloud slithered through their ranks, even as the pale mist of morning began to wane; the harrowed, near haunted look in their eyes made her gaze wander away, the shame still searing hot beneath her skin.
Her order.
Her will.
Her right.
Her responsibility.
From the corners of her eyes Caeliri could see fleeting figures in the fading mist, and her brow furrowed slightly. From afar, she could not ascertain if they were men and women wandering from the proceedings before they truly began, or the machinations of her own sullied conscience playing ghastly tricks on her.
Or, perhaps worse still, they were neither - since the evening she spent with Elleynah in the ruins of Azshara, when both their dreams had been filled with songs and screams, there was a sense of… presence that never fully left her. It lingered, never quite the same, an ever shifting sensation of something Else and Other just astride her every step, and though she’d thought she heard whispers even here in Hallowhearth when silence should have held the manor in it’s sway, dismissing it had been all too easy… thus far.
Swallowing tightly, Caeliri edged around the gathered villagers, her steps measured and placid; a farce, opposite entirely to how she felt, but what was practice for if not for these moments? What good were masks if they didn’t conceal what dwelt beneath?
It was an effort to put the thought of shadows and spirit from her mind, especially with the grassless gravemounds that dotted the yard, but there was room for doubt and reason enough to dismiss the possibility of phantoms for the logical explanation; Hallowhearth was open to all, home to everyone, today. It was tradition when one of their neighbors was to be given back to the earth, and with the manor unoccupied for a half-century and access to the ancient halls denied… it was little wonder some curious souls would wander from the funeral to gander at the gilded rooms and oft-forbidden finery. Summerglen was six-hundred citizens strong, and hoping that every person would take interest and be invested in the funeral services was far-flung and foolish.
Of course.
That was the answer.
The logical answer.
The only answer.
Her careful path brought her not to the front of the crowd, but the back, to the very last person at the farthest edge of those who had gathered to offer their condolences, and her hand slipped into her pocket to retrieve a glassy, teardrop shaped stone. It was no bigger than a gold piecce, though not nearly quite as round - it was by no means a rare or fine crystal, either. Though it’s facets were perfect - Ashalyn Amberstar, the jewelcutter, would have never let an imperfect stone leave her workshop, no matter it’s intended use - it was hardly a thing of grandeur on it’s own, and it’s worth came not from the raw material from which it was forged.
The woman before her offered her a small smile, the hand not laid on the heavy swell of her belly held forth to take the small stone.
“Dame Caeliri,” she murmured, her voice low and pleasant, the gentle bow of her head sending wheat-colored wisps of hair sweeping across her forehead, the braid that ran in a circlet of silken strands across her head unable to hold strands so fine.
“Miss Heartblossom,” Caeliri’s greeting was fond, even if the title was formal - few folk in Summerglen had been so open-armed to her as Halea Heartblossom… though, being married to her Captain of the Guard may have influenced the woman’s warmth, Caeliri chose to believe it was an earnest affection.
Stepping back, Caeliri bowed her head politely as Halea brought the stone to her lips and murmured softly against its roughly faceted surface, her words lost beneath her breath - they may have been a prayer, or a fond farewell, but they went unknown to all who stood beside her. They were words meant for her and the deceased alone, and when she spoke her peace, she handed the stone on to the man beside her.
Hand to hand, lips to lips, the crystal slipped through the crowd, its faces kissed with hymns and hopes and memories alike, at times passing palms without words spoken from the one who bore it last, at times lingering longer for those who wished their final words to weigh as much as the hurt in their hearts, and as the tear-shaped stone was passed, Caeliri quietly made her way to the front of the crowd, her head high and steps as sure as they were ever going to be. Beneath Deyaenus… unique guidance, she’d learned, at least, how to address a crowd - to draw air from her belly, to speak from her gut, to seize her voice and sling it as far as it could go, to touch the ears of many - and as she found her way to the forefront of the mourners, she drew in a deep, deep breath, and let the prayers she’d practiced slip from her lips;
“Today, we bid farewell to a sister of Summerglen, whose life was lived beneath these ancient boughs and who skin was kissed by spring eternal. Unto the Light they go, not soft, not somber, but with revelry -- to join those who have gone before them, and left the path lit. There is naught but joy and love for them now…”
She stumbled, unsure of how to continue - there was a line… a line she forgot. A twinge of panic clattered through her chest, and her heartbeat hastened, thundering hard against her ribs in painful thumps. Her tongue traced over her lips, the stall - she hoped - seeming intentional - a moment to contemplate, to let the weight of her words be tasted - but as her eyes drifted to Liadove, there was naught but a raw and clawing fear circling her sea-green irises.
Several feet away, Liadove stiffened, his own face failing to shift, but the subtle cementing of his features plain enough; he knew that she was flailing, and more so, he knew it meant she was about to deviate from the ancient script.
“I… won’t tell you not to weep.”
A pause - a murmur through the crowd; it was but a moment of rising sound that was swiftly quelled.
“There is no shame in it; what tears you have to shed, whatever their root, be it anger or sorrow or longing, let them fall free to wet the earth beneath your feet, to feed the soil so that it may flourish freely.”
Silence hung over the gathered.
Panic-stricken, Caeliri let her eyes flit over the faces of those at the foot of the grave, who stood before the loose-packed soil in shades that matched the dew-drenched earth. Bewilderment beset their faces, but in at least one there was a glimmer of unbelieving relief. A glimmer that soon slipped softly down the hard-cut cheeks of a face that had seen ages far beyond her own, and caught in the grey-peppered hair of a once scarlet beard.
One breath wasn’t enough to still her hammering heart, but it was enough to speak on in the words the mourners knew well;
“Those we love, we lay within the earth, but though their bones lay beneath our feet, they move unburdened beside us, always. A tree is more than wood for the hearth, and so too are we more than flesh and bone for this life; flesh may turn to soil, and bone to dust, but those we love will live eternal, in every breath of the wind and every glimmer of sunlight--”
At last, the stone made its way to the man who stood before her, his face now moist as the misty grass beneath their feet. His hands, war-torn and warped by work, held fast to the stone the longest, so fiercely that his knuckles turned white and his entire arm began to quake, and for a moment the young Dame feared her step away from tradition had stoked an errant spark of rage within the elder.
The stone never found his lips - but he swept it through the tears that trickled down his cheeks, and relinquished the stone to Caeliri.
When once more the crystal was in her hands, it was warm, it’s facets heated from hot whispers and clutching palms alike as it traveled from one mourner to the next… and wet, still, from the fresh spilled tears. For a moment she paused, looking at the man who handed her the stone, caught between the old, childish desire to seek approval for her action, and the knowledge that she could act without approval - that she should act without hanging on the hope that every action would net her positive affirmation and assurance that her choice was correct - and in weighing her options let the silence linger a little too long.
A wash of color crested on her cheeks, and Caeliri was thankful that the next part - oft saved for a member of the priesthood, when the holder of Hallowhearth was not Light-blessed - made the closing of her eyes near mandatory, if not at least understandable.
With the crystal clasped between her scarred palms, Caeliri reached into the hollow chasm of her chest, to the place where the Light seemed to live inside of her, and drew upon the unyielding font of warmth. It came to her with the same ease as breathing, rolling beneath her skin in washes of warmth not unlike tame and timid sea-water tickling the shoreline. A golden glow blossomed in her palm, and passed from flesh to faceted stone, until the Light was captured at the crystal’s core. With every wish and memory sealed within the tear-shaped stone, Caeliri turned toward the grave, and the small hollow above the engraved name.
‘ELARINE MIRTHLIGHT
BELOVED DAUGHTER, DEFENDER OF SUMMERGLEN
DIED VALIANTLY IN COMBAT AGAINST THE BURNING LEGION’
She pressed the stone into it’s slot, feeling it click snuggly into its proper place, but her fingers lingered on the stone, slipping slowly to the words etched into its surface. Guilt gripped her heart, and though it was… improper to some, she was sure, her head bowed until her forehead met the cold surface of the gravestone.
“I’m so sorry, Elarine,” she murmured, her own final words to a woman she’d only known by name, “Light bless you, always.”
Caeliri lingered but a moment before rising, unconcerned with the moist patches left on her knees, or the grave dirt that clung to her pants. Her hand fell idly to her pocket once more, to the six stones remaining.
Seven soldiers; seven graves - and six more to go.
@stormandozone | @airiannagrace | @felthier
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ephemeralem0tions · 7 years
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Stow Away PART 4 - Levi: No Regrets
So this is part 4, which means part 5, the last part, will be next week. I’ll already give it away tho because I can’t contain myself T.T If you are looking for the ‘aftermath’ of Stow Away, or the period wherein they go back to motherland and who knows what will happen :P, then the very last chapter is the one you are looking for. But in the meantime, lets sail the Levihan angst ship for now otay :)
Theme: Captain Levi and Stow Away
Rating: PG
Warning: Curse Words, Eye Water? Maybe, Graphic depictions of violence (does this count as nsfw?)
AO3 version overe here x
Send a request here >>> ASK
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 5
He looked at her boastful smile as she waved to him, ignoring the crowd that started pooling around her, singing her the praises she deserved. She got what she wanted, from day one of her training to the last. She was assigned to the research fleet, being able to graduate with the highest ranking just a cherry on top of the icing.
“Levi!” she marched towards him, a few petals scattering off the ground, leaving a trail on the path she carved. A small medallion hung from her left chest, signifying that she indeed finished military training with flying colors. She could have instantly become a General if she decided to fight in war, but he knew she never wanted any of that.
His gaze returned to her smile again, one that matched the happiness in her eyes. It had been a while since he saw her genuine joy. He winced at the thought of her looks when rage over took her the moment they lost Farlan and Isabelle to the Titans. He thought he was most intimidating when he gave off an angry aura, but she beat him never the less.
“I pray that the left troop had killed him off while I back up the hell around here” he heard a disgusting, boisterous laugh. His gaze directed to her shattered goggles on the floor, her head whipping to several directions, desperate to see a thing. Anger boiled inside him, as if it couldn’t become any more hotter. She looked so beat up, but never giving up either way, just like she always did.
“You’ll pay for what you have done to all my comrades” she hissed, the Titan’s cackle getting more louder by the moment.
He watched, as her grip tightened around her blade, her enemy, alas stopping right in front of the huge bonfire caused by all the bombs thrown in the area. She dug the weapon through her opponent’s flesh with all her might, his feet padding faster through the ground, wanting her to stop the monstrosity.
No this was not the woman he taught and watched grow into someone more competitive when it came to skill. Her carefree nature totally left her as hatred surrounded her once happy eyes he liked seeing the most. Fear encompassed him as he made his way to her, wanting to stop her madness.
“Hanji!” she dropped down to the ground, dropping her weapon in the process. She looked so broken, crying, sorrow taking over her rage.
“Levi!” she returned to him. He knelt down and looked at her clearly as she bowed her head down, trying to hide an unfathomable fact from him. He grabbed her shoulders and made her look at him straight in the eyes. He found guilt, sorrow, sadness and a dying hint of fury mirroring her brown orbs.
His thoughts drifted back to his original agenda, the reason why he went from the right to the left flank, killing every terrorist that came in his way. He was just taking his usual walk when his insomnia took effect. Hanji was not there to train nor just to talk with him under the moonlight due to her final test. Isabelle and Farlan were already soundly sleeping in the barrack when the Titans appeared. He suddenly remembered that he was here to look for them, and wondered why Hanji was here instead of the other camp.
“Where are Isabelle and Farlan?” she froze up, his eyebrows were furrowed and his frown becoming more evident. “Where are they? Please tell me” she cried even more, hiding her face from him yet again. His heart started thumping faster, then stopping then fast again inconsistently. He suddenly felt constipated, awaiting for the next things he was about to see. No it could not be good, if she had lost her confidence to tell him, then it could not be good.
She raised her arm up, finger pointing to one particular direction. He gathered his thought first, before he followed his gaze to where she shown. She started to shake, as he froze. There laid the people he treated as family, beheaded and the other, partially burned. His throat ran dry, eyes suddenly getting pricked by the tears that raced down to the ground. For the third time around, he lost the people who were dear to him. First, was his mother, second was his uncle who disappeared, and now his friends who he grew up with and treated as brother and sister. He felt disappointed at himself, the blame directed to him and only him.
“I’m sorry” she choked out, coughing as she cried her own tears” I’m sorry” she cried out to him again. “I’m sorry” then he knew, he wasn’t the only one blaming himself, she was blaming hers too.
“Its not your fault” he hushed her, his arms making their way around her, to keep her safe. She looked at him again in the eyes, searching for something.
“But, I should have stayed, then maybe they’d be still alive” his heart broke, hearing her regrets and her hatred for herself. No he did not want her to feel all those. She was the only remaining important person to him right now, and he didn’t want her to feel agony and remorse.
“Don’t” he whispered and brushed away her tears. “The only thing we’re allowed to do, is to believe we won’t regret the choice we’ve made”
“Levi!” she waved a free hand in front of him, the other preoccupied with a bouquet, half tarnished after all the excessive movement she had been doing since she stepped off the small make shift stage. “You don’t seem too happy, upset that I’m leaving so soon?” she teased, his brow arching up at her.
“You wish shitty glasses” he huffed, earning a small chuckle from her.
“Grumpy as always”, her playful aura changed into a serious one. “But seriously, will you be fine?” she asked him, concerned. It had also been news during the ceremony that the newly graduated troops are no exception from the next expedition, to give them a fresh experience. She’d be leaving in a few days for God knows how long.
“I’m more worried about you actually” he sighed.
“Don’t worry about me” she tilted her head towards the left, accompanying it with a small grin. “I’ll just remember how to dance, and know that nothing is fair in war so I should look out like always”
“Our self advices really sound like shit” he growled, contemplating his, and her, admittedly, greatly helpful battle mottos.
“Yeah, like the sound of you groaning in one of the toilet stalls when you are constipated” she laughed, quite loudly, earning a few weird stares from others while he cringed. She was really an abnormal girl, but he couldn’t call himself normal either.
Remembering his real agenda, he took the small leather guard that was tied at the back of his waist while she doubled over the laughter. He grabbed her ponytail, gently but securely at the same time. He pulled her face towards him, so she could look at him straight in the eye.
“Always stay safe, four eyes” as much as he wanted to protect everyone who is important in his life, he had already well known that he could not always be there for them. He had already learned his lesson when his mother, Farlan and Isabelle died. He could not let her be gone as well.
He loosened his grip, revealing the lacquered wood that was imprinted with tiny, intricate silver swirls. The blade was no less than its grip’s design, it may look plain, but the steel that was used to make it was one of the strongest and sharpest amongst all weapons.
“This” she silenced afterwards, admiring the dagger he just handed out to her. Then she looked at him with sympathy. “I can’t possibly take it”
“And why not?” he retorted.
“Because its yours!” he rolled his eyes at her statement. It seemed to him that the smartest woman among the soldiers, also had a loose screw sometimes, not that he didn’t already know long ago. “It has its sentimental value to you I can’t just have it”
“Its a duplicate you dummy”, her mouth turned into an ‘O’ shape in realization. Truth be told, the knife was a replica of the one his Uncle Kenny gave him before he was left all alone in the slums. It was his companion, his sole definition of safety for years, even after finding the comfort of Farlan and Isabelle.
He didn’t know how he thought of giving Hanji the same blade, but it felt right. He considered her proximity one of his safe havens, after they weeped in front of each other during the tragedy. A mystery on how they were the only troops alive aside from those that were able to escape to safety. He wanted her to be safe, and so, he gave her the same thing that kept him from harm in the long run.
“Thank you!” he found himself enveloped in one of her bone crushing hugs. On normal occasions, he would have thrown her over his shoulder, or wiggled his way out then run as fast as he can to hide, while she tried to catch up to him like a dog catching its tail. But this time, he stayed right in her warmth, even returning the favor and wrapping his arms around her waist, a product of height difference, the only part he can reach.
“Just make sure you’ll return after your voyage” he whispered.
“Of course I will” she returned. “I promise”
"Levi!" She waved at him, a tiny spec in the distance, quickly running towards him, while he rolled his eyes and kept his usual scowl on his face. He was on the mandatory jogging sessions in the morning just like always, yet he was aware that it was the day she would be leaving for her third expedition.
"Shitty glasses what are you doing here, aren't you supposed to leave at damn five in the morning? Took a quick crap or something?” he greeted her, while the grinned wickedly, mimicking his stance and jogging along side with him.
"Yeah, quite a long shit actually" he tripped at her words, her chuckle growing ”I'm just here to say goodbye"
"You talk like you'll never return four eyes" he hissed. He was used to her leaving, then returning after a few months. But he could never get used to saying goodbye, deeply upset that he won’t see his safe haven for quite a long time.
"Of course I'd be back!" she assured him. "Just not leaving for five months without you knowing. Plus you'd be graduating in a few more weeks, I figured I should say good luck for your final assessment and congratulations for being a General” He froze on his spot, hearing that he would be graduating with a rank even before his finals.
"What do you mean General you four eyes?" he whispered, disbelief evident in his eyes. The woman could be fooling him, like she always does for him, yet never played a successful joke on him ever since he joined the military. If this was another prank, she had him good, and would succeed for the first time.
"I'm not supposed to tell you, but Erwin had plans to make you a General” He knew she wasn’t playing. Her last task involved sailing with the Commander, and he knew she would not lie about such important matters. Before he could even confirm things that are too good to be true, she already had her back turned away from him, sprinting back to the ship where she would set sail in a few moments.
"Oi shitty glasses come back here!" He growled, her laughter ringing out towards him through echoes from the horizon.
"I'll be back I promise!” she screamed. He watched her, leaving a small smile on his face as she made her way up the galleon. When she promises something, she never broke it. She had always promised him that she’d return every time she went on a journey, and she always did.
News had gotten out to the barracks that the troop sent out on an expedition a day ago had already been spotted near shore. His heart raced, rushing along with his feet as he hurriedly ran towards the docks, fear creeping up his spine.
Silently, he hoped that the galleon just had a minor problem and needed to turn back, but his heart broke, limbs frozen and hearing suddenly deaf despite the many murmurs of the people around him. Only one single wooden raft emerged from the horizon, the sky in deep grey and the ocean seeming a bit too quiet and serene.
He shoved his way to the front as the boat docked, ignoring all the angry screams coming down his way. His sight searched desperately for the eyes he loved the most though never admitted. Yes he knew it now, he cared for her and found safety in her not just because she was a dear friend, but because he loved her.
Moments they spent together suddenly flashed before his mind. The way he slowly turned her into a strong and amazing woman, from just brain, to also brawn. The way she saw him at his best and his worst, how she spent her free time with him during training and even after. How she would visit him after her expeditions and be around him even if sometimes she just annoyed him. How he would assure him of her return every time she left. Now he would just look for the little things he only realized now, that mattered.
He desperately looked for her brown irises, any sign that she was there, alive, breathing and alright. He searched in the small crowd of twelve that all looked devastated, yet he never found her. His gaze wandered off, towards the most familiar face he saw in the crowd. He rushed towards him, showing a stoic but evidently concern facade.
"What Happened? Where is she?" he gripped the boy's frail shoulders despite him being taller. He was desperately hoping there would be a second batch of boats that had her with them, that she was alive.
He wasn’t sure how to react when Moblit slouched forward, looking as tired and as guilty as ever. His eyes were slowly run over by salty tears, sadness taking over his emotions.
"Sir Levi" the boy cried, tears dropping like the rainfall that decided to accompany their sorrow.
He dropped his grip on the poor boy, shoulders slumping forward and head bowing down. as if he had lost all his energy, he dropped to the ground, knees hitting soft sand that was beginning to get wet by the rain and his tears. He had lost her, the moment he knew his love for her, it was too late.
“We’ve searched for the fourth time now Erwin. No galleon, no other survivors, no girl” his eyebrows creased even further upon hearing the muffled voices. He knew it was sanctioned for suspension if he eaves dropped on any of a Commander’s whereabouts, but he never cared.
“Then search for the fifth time” the Commander replied.
“It would be pointless!” another one screamed. “We found no boat, some of the ship fragments that resurfaced were just that. No sign of life” he pressed.
“Still, search” he heard a sigh.
“Alright then” the man hissed, probably getting annoyed. “But this will be the last time” he growled.
“Thank you” he made his way to the side of the door as the Commander dismissed his company, footsteps making their way closer towards him, then out of the room without even noticing his looming figure.
He gave a few moments for the Commander to recollect himself, then entered the office. Mike, who was a Corporal under Erwin’s fleet was looking out the window behind the table. Erwin sat on his chair, arms propped to the wooden desk, and chin resting on his clasped fists. The two men acknowledged his presence, whipping their attentions towards him as he placed a single peice of paper on the desk.
“What is this?” Erwin asked him.
“You know what it is” he returned. It had been the fourth time he filed the document, after the four times the search party had failed. As expected, the Commander sighed and put his paper aside, probably about to reject it like the first ones.
“The request you are making is not an easy one Levi” he stared, disinterested despite the man in front of him being a superior. He had utmost respect for Erwin, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be courteous when he had practically lost someone important over an unexplained situation. “You are a valuable asset to the military, the rank you are asking for means you’ll be degraded. You will not be able to fight, a waste in my opinion”
“I don’t care about any of that bull crap” he hissed “If they can’t find her, then I’m finding her”
“Please think about it first” the man pleaded.
“No” he answered firmly.
“Just please” he still kept his stand. “Just give it one more thought. This is the last time I’ll be sending out people to find. If all else fails, I won’t reject the most immediate wish you will make”
Although he didn’t want to waste time, he knew he couldn’t persuade his superior so easily. He creased his forehead even deeper and placed his palms over the desk, going closer to intimidate the Commander although it didn’t seem to work.
“Keep your word Erwin, This is the last time I’ll let you send aimless brats across the seas” he hissed, before turning around on his heel and leaving the office, closing the door harshly with a bang.
He whipped his knife from his side, letting it spin momentarily on air then grabbing it, before lunging for the Titan in front of him, the small crowd of soldiers that were watching from outside the cell hysterically running around and looking for the Commander. Although fuming with anger, he stopped just under the culprit’s chin, managing to leave his throat clean, and the person very much alive.
“Where is she?” he growled, more of demanding for an answer rather than asking.
“Levi” Erwin’s calm voice automatically made him back away from the captive. This was the product of the fifth search, a lead, but no Hanji.
He retracted his blade back to its spot, hidden around his thigh. He hissed, stepping aside and giving the Commander some space. Mike, and the man who conducted all the searches whom he now known as Flagon — Another Corporal like him and Mike — just a few inches behind them.
“We found some heinous things along with this culprit sir” Flagon stated, sweat dripping from his forehead as if he was reminiscing such a disgusting scene. “We have also retrieved Ms. Ilse Langnar’s body and a few things after finding them in a secluded island near the area. She was beheaded, but he kept her corpse safe under a huge tree and actually guarded it”
“Did you find out why?” Erwin asked, the usual stoic and unaffected look still plastered on his face.
“No. He had never said a word about the incident nor about Ms. Langnar. We did try to interrogate him at the ship before we reached shore, but all he did was moan or growl incoherent words” He wasted no time, without any word from is superior, he grabbed the Titan’s hair and kicked his knee towards the culprit’s shin, earning a loud growl in pain.
“L-Levi!” Flagon uttered softly, taken back by his actions. Erwin and Mike couldn’t care any less, they just watches as he continued his fury, beating up the prisoner a few good times before inching his face closer to the now battered man.
“Where is Hanji?” He snarled again, getting more pissed by each second that passed by. “There were only three of them amongst the intelligence division that boarded the damn boat. She had shitty glasses and a bird nose tell me if you’ve seen her” he hissed, receiving only moans in return. He dropped his grip and balled his fists, punching the man’s face till it was black and blue. Nobody dared stop him, not like he would let them anyway.
“He has no intention to talk” Mike spoke, evidently sniffing the air in the room. “It smells like dishonesty, even if you get something out of him”
He grabbed his dagger yet again, gripping it tightly within his palms, knuckles turning white due to all the sorrow and rage he felt.
“Hold it Levi, we must let the jurisdiction decide upon this” without listening to his superior’s words, he drove the blade through the Titan’s throat, blood sputtering right to his clothes as he mumbled a small ‘tsk’. Gurgling sounds accompanied his assault, the slowly dying body thrashing on the chair then suddenly going limp as blood pooled on the hard cold floor. His gaze turned to the mess below, mercy and every once of patience leaving his system.
“These Titans aren’t human Erwin, they don’t need a fucking trial” he hissed. “They don’t need to be disciplined like a human, they kill just to gather territory and have fun. They don’t deserve to live”
A small white envelope was handed out to him by a subordinate. Erwin’s short note about fulfilling his promise and a finally signed and accepted request laid before him. He sighed, accepting the blessings the Commander had given him, encased within the file.
He was finally going to become a Captain, driving a ship instead of leading troops and going to the field as a General. Erwin had graced him with the S.S. Wings of Freedom and had given him the condition that his service was to be used for trade and loading purposes. He had also been informed that Mike was to resume his vacated position and was already packing for his trip to Germany for a gala that was happening in two days. Although Erwin had already briefed him about the first assignment he was to receive as a Captain, another file clearly stated the task at hand. He was to acknowledge the fleet that was assigned to him, and sail to Greenland the following morning.
So this was the fate he chose. Letting all opportunities others could just dream of, slip by right at the tips of his fingers. But the important thing was, he was doing this to find her. No matter how much he thought, his decisions feel right. He was never going to doubt himself, he will borad his boat, and face the seas with no regrets.
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 5
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