#one of his add-ons implies he was in boy scouts at one point

[serialreporter]

i really want him to be able to play an instrument, but i'm not sure what one yet.

#☼ why do i keep collecting shitty fucked up guys fr. ﹙ ooc. ﹚ #its a staple of my muses that they know at least one instrument. typically the one heard in their theme music #and the only instrument i can sorta distinct when listening to his theme are trumpets LOL #which i mean. makes a lot of sense actually. #one of his add-ons implies he was in boy scouts at one point #lmfao the idea of him playing the trumpet is sending me actually

[antebellumite]

(since i sense you may be having an atticus finch moment rn) is go set a watchman "canon" to you? i always liked tkam but i never read gsaw (even though someone gave it to me when it came out) because i got a weird feeling about the circumstances of it being published among other things. never talked to anybody about it so figured i'd ask a certified tkam enjoyer

i am having Such an atticus finch moment that i have three fics in the works for him

ohhh boy so hear me out.

warning: i'm rereading tkam as we speak and its been a while since ive read gsaw

in my own personal head-interpretation of to kill a mockingbird, in which the irl reality of its publication is disregarded, gsaw is canon in the sense that it's the alternate universe of to kill a mockingbird, with the point of divergence being the tom robinson trial.

tom robinson is found guilty: atticus experiences Character Growth and becomes and remains the folk hero Defender of Rights and dilf we know today

tom robinson is not found guilty [or at least, not found guilty via the defense atticus uses in gsaw]: atticus basically remains on the natural course he was in the beginning of tkam to bigotry and Racism TM

tldr: gsaw, on its own, is not a good book, and nor is it fully canon, but it does serve as great contextualization to the person that atticus is in tkam and who atticus could have been.

at the beginning of the book and throughout the trial, atticus finch is clearly a very White Moderate in our Modern Terms, in the sense that he might disapprove of the racism exhibited by the citizens of maycomb, but he also is more than content to not do anything about it. his worldview is essentially: "man it sure sucks that my neighbors are prejudiced and more than willing to sentence an innocent man to death, and but i guess i'll tolerate it and spend time around them because they're good people at heart [to other white people]." you know how one of the most memorable lessons atticus teaches to scout is to have empathy for others? my argument is that atticus's practicing of that is what makes him to give too much leeway to the bigoted members of the community around him.

we see this with ike finch, maycomb's "sole surviving confederate veteran" and stonewall jackson fetishist. he makes his appearance early on in the book, prior to the robinson case even being introduced. according to scout, he comes by at least once a year to "rehash the war" with atticus. while i can assume this means that ike is representing the confederacy and atticus the union in this conversation, considering that in the immediate paragraph after, atticus states "this time we aren't fighting the yankees, we're fighting our friends. but remember this, no matter how bitter things get, they're still our friends and this is still our home." it implies that in this american civil war replay, either both of them are identifying with the confederacy, or ike is and atticus is more than okay to go along with it. and in addition, atticus's apparent determination to remain on good terms with the people of maycomb no matter how bitter it got adds questions to just what he would have considered bitter enough for the people of maycomb to no longer remain his friends. if the mob at the scene at the jailhouse actually managed to lynch tom robinson, which they were probably going to do, until scout saved the day, would that have been "bitter enough" for atticus to reconsider being friends with murderers?

actually the fact that he adds in 'and this is still our home' makes me think he was planning to leave maycomb entirely if that scenerio actually happened but i digress

and then you get to ms. dubose, who serves as another aspect to how atticus views the racism of his town. when ms. dubose dies, he calls her the most bravest person he'd ever known, for having the courage to die clean of her morphine addiction, and also a "great lady". which, i understand, in part, is because she Just Died and he's talking to Jem and Scout who are children, but the way that atticus talks about it makes you feel as though he's implying that her courage serves as either recompense or excuse for a. the racism and b. the whole thing where she essentially verbally harassed jem and scout whenever they came by for the horrid sin of walking where she could see them.

of course there's also maycomb trial in general. atticus obviously knows that he cant win-- the famous 'just because you're licked doesn't mean you can give up' quote-- because he understands the prejudice of the town. but i believe that behind the quote, atticus still had faith in the judicial process, just not in the people who were in charge of it in maycomb. its part of the reason for his appeal-- to get robinson to a higher court where the people there could be more open-minded.

so in essence, atticus at the turning point of his story [ the trial ], is someone who's

1. overly lenient and sympathetic view of his maycomb neighbors allows him to excuse much of the harmful rhetoric and actions they perpetrate

2. considers racism to be, while Bad, a certain type of bad that is ultimately forgivable/excusable. i think there's also evidence in tkam that he basically also thinks the same thing for other forms of bigotry but i'm not going to look for them.

3. has trust in the judicial system

so from there, we have the tom robinson trial.

i like to think that what acting as tom robinson's defense attorney did for atticus was that it forced him to actually reckon with the racism of maycomb as directed towards an actual human being rather than a Nebulous Construct. when tom robinson got declared guilty despite being innocent, it showed him the actual harmful effects of what the people of maycomb believed, on an actual human being, who was subsequently presumably murdered via 17 gunshot wounds. it showed the failures of a system that allowed for tom robinson to be murdered and sentenced for a crime he didn't commit in the first place.

in gsaw, without tom robinson being convicted, i don't think that lesson would have hit so hard. to gsaw!atticus, robinson being declared not guilty is proof that the racism of maycomb is ultimately Not That Harmful, proof that the system ultimately Works As It Should, and it allows him to sink deeper into interactions with more extreme racist individuals, and eventually become the verison of atticus we see in gsaw.

in addition, gsaw!atticus's defense for tom robinson that gets him acquitted is that the robinson's presumed rape of mayella was consensual, whereas tkam!atticus reveals that the rape didn't happen between robinson and mayella in the first place (although, you know.) which implies a contrast between gsaw!atticus and tkam!atticus where tkam!atticus was focused on exonerating robinson's public image in order to then acquit robinson, but gsaw!atticus was focused on acquitting robinson head on, even if it meant attacking mayella instead.

what this would mean is that gsaw!atticus might not even have had all that much of an interaction with tom robinson, and therefore wasn't able to do that whole tkam-trademark Understanding and Seeing Him As A Person, thereby Removing his past Blinders to Injustice TM TM TM.

and this leads to the changes in atticus from tkam and gsaw. they're still the same person, but with a different turning point.

#thank u for asking!!! #atticus finch #to kill a mockingbird #go set a watchman #fic purge #long post #what if the trial turned out differently is such a potentially insanely juicy concept i need to rip into it #i understand why it isnt for very important Reasons relating to the Real World #but WOW #anyawys this is my reading and i am not a very Big tkam-er #more knowledgable tkam enjoyers please feel free to add on or correct anything

[cdmagic1408]

"Mighty Mom" Detail Scout! 2.0!!! 🔎 ✨ 2️⃣

~ Advent Calendar Edition ~

* Click here for the first edition post! *

On December 22nd, Onward's Mighty Mom was found in the 2022 Disney Advent Calendar. That same day, I released a YouTube video where I read the story aloud! 📖

From flipping through it the first time last month to putting that video together, I realized...this version of Mighty Mom has EVEN MORE details! ✨ 🔍

So now I present to you: the Mighty Mom detail scout...THE SEQUEL!!

~

First things first, there’s the FRONT COVER...

May I just say it’s EPIC! Very awesome looking! 🤩

We got all three Lightfoots together! Lookin badass and ready to handle anything that comes their way! Barley lighting the path with his torch, Laurel gripping her battle ax in her amazing protective armor, and Ian clutching his staff with the Danger Detection Spell in use!

And let's not forget the dreaded Giant Spider playing (as TV Tropes calls it...) the evil overlooker in the background!

Basically, it screams quest and adventure! I LOVE IT!! ✨✨✨

~

Oh! And a BACK COVER with a PLOT TEASER!

Yep, I'd say that sums it up pretty well 😎

~

Now onto the story itself...let us start at the very end to mix things up, shall we?

The thing about the ending is...it's slightly different! Compared to the first version, which ended on the more hopeful note of oh..."let's plan our next adventure!" this version ends a bit more comically!

It's definitely implied Ian and Barley are much more scared of spiders now after being trapped by a giant one, but Laurel on the other hand has conquered her fear! Which is good cause that was like her internal conflict and everything... 😄

But...yeah...don't think this is the only time you're gonna face a giant spider, boys... (*cough* *cough* IYTM chapter 29 😉)

~

I also couldn't help but notice that Barley's love for quests and the days of yore is expanded upon here... 😏

...and there...

Now I definitely get why Barley looks so hyped when he sees that minotaur security guard...and why Ian looks a little worried...

my point? the authenticity is GOLD ❤️‍🔥

~

We've even got an expanded illustration of the mall's play area!

and boy is there a detail or two to spot on this page...

I don't know if it's just me, but that loooooooong green slide on the left looks suspiciously like Blazey... 👀 other than being long and green, it's definitely the tongue slide and the happy wild-eyed expression that sells it 🤪

Oh! and at the top of the small ball pit next to that satyr kid riding the dragon...young Ian, is that you? 😂

And speaking of that satyr kid, it's the very same kid Barley plays with in the bigger ball pit on the next page! (yes, I'm putting that picture in too cause I know how much you love Barley with kids @itsme-star) and now that I'm really looking at it, I'm thinking he wanted to give that little kid another fun ride after swinging on that dragon and if that's the case...awwwwww that's so sweet 🥺

Lastly, I get the feeling that that spider jungle gym was meant to warn our favorite elves of the dangers below...but considering how modern and harmless it looks, I don't blame em for not taking that into consideration lol

~

This was the first illustration that gave me the impression that there was more to this story than what we saw back in April...

I'll say the debris falling definitely adds urgency to the situation of the tavern needs to fixed and put back to its former glory 😅

But also...

The three of them high-fiving is sooooooo adorable! I already thought they looked great in those construction hats and goggles, but this is serotonin if I ever saw it! 😍

~

And last but certainly not least...this book was in the advent calendar's day 22 slot!

I would like to give credit to our fellow QM, @aloftmelevar who has cleverly pointed out a couple times—this time being no exception—that Onward is the 22nd film in Pixar's movie library!

Whether putting this story in day 22 for that reason was done on purpose...who knows? 🤔 But I personally would like to believe that it was!

~

In the end, now all I can think about is this: both versions of the story have different adjustments to the scale of the illustrations that we see, so there has to be full scale artworks of all of them, right?! 😲

Where those would be...I have no clue...

Guess after finding this advent calendar, that's my next Onward treasure hunt! 😉 😉

So anyway, there you have it, Quest Masters! The second detail scout of Mighty Mom!

We'll have to see if a third detail scout comes to pass if there's a potential third version of the story out there somewhere, but as I said in my last Mighty Mom detail scout post, I hope we get lots more Onward short stories featuring our beloved elf bois for years to come! In advent calendars, short story collections, step-into-readings, whatever the case may be, I WILL READ IT!

But for right now, I can honestly say that I like the Mighty Mom story even more now than I did on the day we discovered it! It's like the more you read into the details and piece together the context clues, the more fascinating and enjoyable media ends up being as a whole! 💖 I've found that with Onward itself, and now that I see that in this story too, there's no doubt I'll find it in any Onward story 😊

#onward #pixar onward #onward mighty mom #onward detail scouting #detail scouting #cdmagic1408

[ldh-headcannon]

Hello, I hope you're well and that request is still open! Can I ask if the SWORD leaders are the jealous type and how would they react if their S/Os receive attention from someone else? It can be a simple crush or perhaps the other person is really in love with their S/Os too. Thank you so much in advance!

Here it is! So sorry for the delay as always. I did add a little bit of extra headcannon for how I think people join the Rude Boys when it comes to Smoky's. Also just a heads up, I have a couple OCs sprinkled in this one, and they are all named after characters from a certain Japanese movie. In fact it was one of the first Japanese films I watched. And it was what got me into the whole genre that High and Low fits under. So 10 points to the people know what that is lol.

Anyway, sorry for the rant lol. Again please feel free to leave feed back

Warnings: Swearing and implied smut in both Murayama's and Hyuga's part

Cobra:

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again

Cobra isn’t the jealous type

He trusts you so much

Just as much as he trusts Yamato and Noboru

He honestly gets more protective than jealous

He knows that he can trust all of Sannoh with you

They’re good guys

But other dudes?

I mean, come on

They could be skeezy af

Yeah, your man isn’t gonna take that chance if he can help it

So let’s set up the scene here

You two are having a date night

It doesn’t happen very often but ya know, sometimes you just gotta have a night out together

Anyway, you two find yourselves at a bar that you two aren’t really known for visiting but ya know, why not check it out

You two are having a good time together but Cobra excuses himself to use the bathroom real quick

And that’s when some rando (We’ll call him Tokio) decides to approach you

He asks you if he can buy you a drink

You hold up the drink you’re currently sipping

“No thanks. My boyfriend has me covered.”

“Oh really? I don’t see him anywhere.”

You raise an eyebrow as an almost challenge

Tobio continues to insist cuz he can’t take a hint

But soon enough Cobra comes back from the bathroom

And when he sees this stranger up in your business

He gets a little mad

So he will walk up to your table

He will try to be peaceful about the situation first

He isn’t one to want to make a scene if it isn’t necessary

So Tokio will notice him and recognize him right away considering how Cobra has been apart of both Sannoh and Mugen for some time

Cobra will just size him up and ask, “What are you doing?”

You’ll answer before the guy even has a chance

“Oh you know. He’s just hitting on me even though I’ve mentioned that I have a boyfriend as soon as he walked up.”

Tokio’s eyes go wide while Cobra will continue to stare at him

Tokio will quickly mutter out an apology before bolting out the door

Cobra will just give a small shake of his head at the situation before checking if you’re ok

Rocky:

RIP to whoever decided to flirt with you in front of Rocky

I mean, don’t get me wrong, the dude doesn’t get jealous too quickly

Again, more likely to be protective than actually jealous

But when it does happen?

Straight up ruthless

Like, actually a little scary

And it would be something you intentionally initiated

Like, Rocky is a busy person right?

I mean the man runs a whole club AND a scout group to protect as many women as possible

I mean, not that I know how to do any of that but those gotta be some HEFTY time consumers

So there are gonna be days where he is swamped with work

And sometimes on those days he doesn’t have time for you

So you decide to pass the time at Club Heaven

You were just dancing by yourself when this guy (He shall be named Shun) asked if he could join you

And since you’re bored and lonely, why not just dance with him

You’re a strong, independent human being, and you know when to tell him no

So you two talk and dance

You mostly talk about how you’re bummed that you can’t see Rocky at the moment

And they decide to keep you company

Again, it’s all innocent

And not that you really noticed but Rocky has been watching you from the balcony

Just watching

Making sure you’re safe

And as soon as Shun decides to get too friendly

Like, he gets brave and puts his hand a little too high up on your thigh

You remove it quickly and remind him that though you may be upset, you still have a boyfriend that you love very much

Before you can really finish your statement

Rocky will appear right in front of you two

He will pull them up to their feet so fast

His glare set behind his glasses

You and Shun you start stammering out an explanation of what was going on

But Rocky just kinda isn’t really listening, but still waits ‘til you’re done talking

“I don’t care if you two were just talking. They touched you.”

He will direct his attention to Shun, who he is holding up by the collar, “You better leave. And don’t even think about stepping foot in here again if you want to keep standing.”

Shun will run out of there so fast barely giving himself time to utter out an apology

Rocky will then grab your hand and ask you to stay by his side for the rest of the night

Murayama:

Here we go

We finally found a jealous one

But he will insist that he isn’t jealous. He just wants to be there with you

But we all know better

He’s definitely the most jealous

Especially if he feels like your attention hasn’t been on him for a while

He can be needy and clingy like that

And if you are distracted by someone else for too long, he will get super pouty and sarcastic

Why you may ask?

Cuz this dude is a straight up man-child!

You should know this already

There’s a day where Murayama was distracted talking with Seki and Furuya

So you decide to talk to Todoroki

He’s kinda having a rough day so you let him rant to you for a couple hours

And when Murayama finds you two and he will have a pout etched onto his face

He tries to hide hide it

But he can’t 

He will ask you two what you’re doing before sitting next you

Of course Todoroki is gonna notice Murayama’s instant clingy behavior

And of course he’s gonna mess with your man

“Hey Murayama. Can’t you see that I’m trying to talk with them?”

Your boyfriend wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer

“Yeah. That’s fine. You can talk to them.”

Todoroki will continue, “It’s a private conversation.”

Murayama doesn’t move

Just stares blankly at Todoroki who just raises his eyebrows as a challenge

Murayama finally comply when you ask him to leave

But he will have a look of disappointment on his face

When you meet up with him later though he will be super clingy

Boy won’t leave your side

He might even take you to a more private area and remind you why you love him and only him

Moral of the story: Don’t make him jealous unless you want a very pouty and possessive Murayama

Smoky:

Ok so Smoky, when he gets jealous it cuz he starts seeing people he’d think you’d be better off with

Like he doesn’t really get jealous as he does get insecure if that makes sense?

For instance

Let’s say that it’s about that time of year that new volunteers to join the Rude Boys pop up

So Smoky, Takeshi, and Pi are all kinda sitting and judging as the newbies “try out”

You decide to watch with them

You throw out compliment to certain members here and there

Smoky nods in agreement as he observes them all as they show off their incredible stamina and ability to free run

It doesn’t seem like anything for him to be worried about

Until the one you have seemed to comment on quite a bit (we’ll call him Tamao) decides to send a flirty wink in your direction

At first it doesn’t bother your significant other

But after he does it like 5 more times?

Yeah it starts to bug him a little bit

Especially since you don’t exactly seem to be bothered or opposed to them at all

You just continue to comment on well he’s doing

In your defense

You weren’t even paying attention to his facial expressions

Only his ability to keep up with the others

Anywho. The recruits can do parkour but that’s only part of the job

So the question is, Will they be able to protect The Nameless Road? Can they fight?

Smoky asks them all to take turns sparring with Takeshi or Pi

Not that he’s expecting them to beat either of his friends, but it will give them a challenge

You continue your commentary

And when Tamao is up to fight Takeshi

The guy is way to confident for Smoky’s liking

Tamao gives you a wave before starting the match

Smoky watches you return the gesture

Granted he didn’t seem to notice the look of confusion on your face

But this is when doubt kinda starts setting in for your boyfriend

‘Do they like Tamao?’

‘I mean, the guy is good looking, and he’s young. Strong. Healthy’

‘Maybe they would be happier with him?’

He won’t voice any of these concerns 

Just continues to watch the fight

He will still evaluate Tamao without too much bias

It will continue until Smoky and his two right hand men are done evaluating everyone

They’ll welcome the ones they chose to join Rude Boys before dismissing everyone

Smoky will be a little distant and cold for the rest of the day

After giving him some space, you confront him about as you both get settled into bed

“Do you think you’d be happier with someone else?” He’ll ask you

You will sit right up. “What? Of course not! Why would you ever think that?”

“You seemed to really like Tamao today. And he is a strong, healthy guy who will be around for a while.”

You stare at him in disbelief

“Smoky. You are the one I love. I don’t care if there’s someone else who is stronger or healthier or whatever out there. He won’t make me happy. You do.”

He will wear a smile as he pulls you in closer to him before falling asleep for the night.

Hyuga:

I feel like he kinda puts you and himself in positions and spurts of jealousy on purpose?

Like my guy here can be a very jealous person

But he also likes the feeling of being jealous?

And he loves the fact that you get those feelings of jealousy because of him

Not in the moment of course. But right after the situation was set? Yes please

Cuz you both know what happens in the aftermath of it all

You two get BUSY

And that is something you both find plenty of fun

So I’ve mentioned it before, Hyuga loves to show you off around his casino

So it’s just like any other night for you

You have on your favorite outfit that seems to catch everyone’s eye

Cuz let’s be honest. You’re hot. And what you’re wearing shows off all of your best features

And you go through your normal routine of working around the room

Ya know, just making a bit of small talk with the regulars and get a few free drinks from them here and there

Not that you normally don’t get free drinks being with Hyuga

But if people wanna spend their money on you, who are you to stop them

This is all your normal routine so you’re used to it

And it doesn’t bother Hyuga

Most of the people there are very aware that you two are an item and know not to take things too far

But when some new guy (This one shall be named Genji) stops by?

Well, he doesn’t quite understand the rules

Anyways you walk up to Genji and you talk with him, let him buy you a drink or two

He flirts with you a bit

Which you’ve gotten plenty used to by now since a lot of the regulars will throw flirty lines

So you just handle like normal and laugh it off since it’s usually just playful drunken banter

And this continues for a bit

You notice that you and Genji have caught Hyuga’s attention

He raises an eyebrow as if asking you’re really gonna challenge him

You answer with your infamous, bratty smirk before turning your attention back to Genji

You continue to flirt with him

Kinda just waiting to see how long it takes Hyuga to intervene

And it’s taking him longer that you expected

You figured he would be done with this game after a half-hour, 45 mins tops

But it’s been over an hour and a half and all he’s done is watch so far

So you decide to kick up your flirting a notch

You’re already going to wake up tomorrow with your favorite kinda bruises so might as well earn them am I right

You let out the flirtiest giggle you could must, a suave little hair flip, all before resting your hand on his shoulder

And wouldn’t you know it that is exactly what it takes to break Hyuga’s patience

You don’t have to wait long before he shows up at your table

He will grab Genji by his collar and bring him to his feet

“Do you know that you’re chatting up what’s mine? Now I can’t have that can I?”

Genji will try to stutter out some kinda excuse

But he doesn’t get much of a chance before Hyuga punches him right in the face, promptly knocking him out

Hyuga will turn to you and help you out of your chair

He’ll wrap one hand around your neck, squeezing against the pressure points

Not to cut off your air supply but to give you that choking sensation

“I think you took this round a little too far doll. I think I need to take you to the back room and remind you who you belong to.”

P.S

The names are all from Crows Zero (2007)

#High and Low #high and low story of sword #High and low reactions #high and low headcannons #high and low oya high #high and low sannoh #high and low white rascals #high and low daruma ikka #high and low rude boys #high and low cobra #murayama yoshiki #high and low rocky #high and low smoky #high and low hyuga #story of sword #sannoh rengokai #sannoh hoodlum squad #white rascals #oya high #rude boys #daruma ikka

[titan-fodder]

Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @whats-her-quirk​ for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks​ for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax​ who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from. 

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra -  pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4  Y E A R S  B E F O R E 

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones. 

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?” 

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes. 

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews. 

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists. 

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes. 

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt. 

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further. 

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…” 

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes. 

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into. 

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin. 

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes. 

“Great. The boy scout’s here.” 

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.” 

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife. 

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish. 

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off. 

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer. 

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?” 

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it. 

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?” 

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him. 

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye. 

And then, it stops. 

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you. 

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago. 

“Was that…” 

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart. 

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field. 

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused. 

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers. 

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him. 

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.” 

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves. 

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them. 

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you. 

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance. 

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma. 

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle. 

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place. 

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in. 

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid. 

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore. 

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule. 

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then… 

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you. 

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation. 

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic. 

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper. 

"Not really. Survive, I guess." 

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand. 

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could. 

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days). 

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections. 

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them. 

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it. 

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person. 

2  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

 “Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1  Y E A R  B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium. 

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility. 

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder. 

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing. 

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd. 

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to. 

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes. 

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself. 

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is." 

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow. 

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run. 

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy. 

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong. 

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?" 

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain. 

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite. 

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend. 

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth. 

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb. 

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself. 

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings. 

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?" 

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd. 

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?" 

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows. 

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!" 

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over. 

"Hange!" 

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?" 

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis. 

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?" 

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

*

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached. 

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated. 

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects. 

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts. 

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him. 

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply. 

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time. 

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years." 

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in. 

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?" 

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science. 

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong. 

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?" 

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?" 

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare. 

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long. 

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames. 

6  M O N T H S  B E F O R E 

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up. 

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting. 

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night. 

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike. 

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can." 

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect. 

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park. 

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however. 

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild. 

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently. 

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves. 

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor. 

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over. 

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight. 

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information. 

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face. 

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?" 

"Yes," Erwin answers first. 

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage. 

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves. 

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias. 

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough. 

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin. 

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales. 

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?" 

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach. 

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage. 

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret. 

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights. 

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick. 

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back. 

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline. 

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too. 

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly. 

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case. 

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter. 

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been. 

Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction. 

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him. 

S I X  W E E K S  B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow. 

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared. 

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind. 

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel. 

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry. 

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement. 

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch." 

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you. 

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain. 

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you. 

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud. 

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall. 

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. 

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans. 

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you. 

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers. 

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him. 

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts. 

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

*

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along. 

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer. 

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing. 

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place. 

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen. 

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses. 

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption. 

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears. 

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here. 

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride. 

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense. 

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off. 

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest. 

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly. 

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious? 

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife. 

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses. 

“Maybe so…” 

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance. 

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you. 

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right. 

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him. 

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him. 

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips. 

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless. 

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?” 

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake. 

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking. 

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock. 

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit. 

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips. 

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs. 

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you. 

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss. 

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his. 

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot. 

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots. 

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god. 

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length. 

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him. 

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally. 

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit. 

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. 

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles. 

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes. 

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch. 

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist. 

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time. 

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course. 

E - D A Y 

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes. 

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence. 

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement. 

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up. 

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening. 

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map. 

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself. 

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand. 

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun. 

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered. 

1  M O N T H  A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out. 

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising. 

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike. 

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing. 

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm. 

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last. 

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw. 

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month. 

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head. 

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see. 

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!” 

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor. 

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further. 

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it. 

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips. 

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth. 

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement. 

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria. 

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?” 

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking. 

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely. 

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes. 

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock. 

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same. 

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal. 

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child. 

4  Y E A R S  A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights. 

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter. 

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you. 

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close. 

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding. 

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?” 

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face. 

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask. 

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference. 

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that… 

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin. 

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal. 

#aot x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #mike zacharias x reader #snk fanfic #the smut pile collab

[theglowyscorpio]

all set | eren x reader

a/n: this is a story in the making, currently available at AO3 and Wattpad. If you like it, please don't hesitate to give me some kudos, leave a comment or maybe follow me on my social media! <3 Any feedback is highly appreciated since I'm just getting started!

pairing: eren yeager x female reader

tags: mature content, alternate universe (modern setting), college/university, recreational drug use, implied sexual content, M/F, F/F, the author is not religious lmao

word count: 4.3k

current chapters: 2/?

playlist: this one was made with a particular playlist in mind. they are really great songs that help to convey this chapter, so I hope you have a time to check them out! :)

a. slomosa - kevin b. upsahl - drugs c. rosenfeld - like u d. kaiba - overdose e. lil kapow - tinman f. bodega - how did this happen!?

***

all set

I lost count of how many parties I went to this week. There was one at Shina, another at... Sasha's. Wait, was it? Or Ymir's? Honestly, both their houses look fairly similar and we always see the same faces over and over again, regardless of where we are getting wasted. Definitely two at my house. The timeline is blurry at this point. If my liver could talk, it would spit out "Screw you, Eren." and I wouldn't be able to disagree.

Classes will start next week so everyone is acting like we're going to stop doing all this for the rest of the semester. That never happens.

I barely enter Reiner's house and the music is already piercing my head. My ears will soon tell me to go screw myself too. The bass was loud. But it was good.

— Hey, finally — Reiner says, giving a hard slap in my back. I can't even get mad at him because he probably didn't mean for it to hurt. Fucking strong bastard.

— Sorry. Lost track of time.

— You know where the things are — he leaves me behind and disappears through the noisy music.

It's hot inside. August has been particularly cruel this year. I'm using a black t-shirt, which is luckily pretty thin, and my black Adidas pants that are somewhat breathable. My hair is in a bun. I will probably be sweating soon, though. Reiner's AC won't do miracles with this amount of people since it is specially packed today. I guess I might see some new faces tonight, huh.

This fact already makes things more interesting.

I walk through the room and then arrive in the kitchen. Connie and Sasha are there.

— Eren!! — I barely open my mouth to talk and Sasha is already giving me whatever weird drink they made. Their drinks sometimes are... unusual, for the lack of a better word. Most of the time they are simply pure shit. They call it scout's fuel, always the same name regardless of what's inside. Maybe that's why my liver hates me so much.

— Thanks — I'm already used to the goddamn gasoline taste — I guess you both want to get us wasted tonight.

— It's our personal mission, so enjoy the fuel — Connie says laughing, raising his plastic cup. I love this duo – who doesn't? – and I can't help but laugh with them, even though it tastes so bad — Everyone is already here, come on — I follow them and find all the familiar faces I've seen all week: Bertholdt, Historia, Ymir, Mikasa, Annie, Armin, Jean, everyone.

The girls look hot, even though I'm used to them. Either way, I avoid hooking up with my friends since the last time didn't work so well. It's better to avoid Mikasa today.

We all sit together while drinking. I light a joint I had already prepared at home and say — Am I crazy or is Reiner's party bigger than usual? —, releasing the smoke a few seconds after. This one is the best grass we could get around our area, I've saved it primarily for today and now I see that might have been a great decision on my part. I'm glancing through the room and looking for some girls, might share this shit with one - or a few - of them later.

— Thank god, I was tired of seeing your ugly faces every fucking time — Jean says. The girls look at him and he rushes to add — I mean, the boys, of course. It's always nice looking at all of you, ladies.

It's not enough to avoid Annie's kick anyway — We can say the same of you, horse face.

Reiner arrives at the perfect time and explains — Since the new semester starts Monday, news about today traveled fast and we got a lot more company than usual.

— Do you know all of them, Reiner? — Historia asks — I've talked to a bunch of them tonight and there are people from all over the campus and from all years as well — Historia always looks pretty, her blonde hair shining even in the low light of the party. Guys make a line to talk to her at all parties so there's no surprise that she's already familiarized with the whole scenario. I wonder what Ymir thinks of it. Probably followed her during this little field trip.

— Hell, no — he grabs the joint of my hand and sucks deeply — I know some of them and some are Bertholdt's friends but there are some random people.

— I bet Reiner knows a lot of the girls — I take my joint back from his fingers — I assume they aren't Bertholdt's friends, though — and grin.

— Hey, I don't see you with any new company either, dude — Bertholdt tries to grab my weed as well, but I avoid his advances. He instead grabs my cup and drinks all of it, leaving me empty. He makes a funny face at the taste. Suit yourself, man, I think to myself, laughing on the inside.

— Yeah, but I'll work on it in a sec — I tease him knowing that he can't handle much of Sasha and Connie's fuel. He always knocks out before everyone. I hope he realizes he needs to stay awake to try anything with Annie. Someday. He simply never gets there.

Hange arrives almost falling over Ymir and spilling her drink on the floor in the process — I think we should all make a toast and make this last party a wild ride!!! — her yelling stabbing us louder than the music.

— Bitch, you are this fucking drunk already? — Ymir says to her, holding Hange's weight on her back — What the hell did the gasoline duo do to you?

— Okay okay, enough with the questions, let me fill your cups because this is the night! — Sasha says, just pouring all that mystery liquid that soon will go straight to our heads — Also, Reiner, where's the food?

We raise our plastic cups and Connie yells — To the new semester! — and we drink, feeling the immediate burn on our throats. It's hard being a scout.

— I need to get laid today — Jean says as he lays his back on the couch — Gonna arrive for the classes pretty motivated next week — he then rests his left arm at the back pillow, behind Mikasa's head.

— You should start roaming, then — her cold delivery puts Jean's subtle attempt at flirting six feet under the ground, as usual. It was pretty damn quick, but I could notice Mikasa glancing at me and then looking the other way. Yeah, I think I need to start roaming soon, too.

— That sounds great, then let's do that!!! — Hange grabs Jean by the arm and they disappear amongst the crowd.

— When all this fun ends, I'll be the one who will probably have to take him home after he gets slapped by some girls — Armin and Jean live with me so we normally go back together. Armin is the responsible one between us, which is not exactly hard considering how Jean and I are — Gonna at least drink some beer before that happens.

— I'll go with you, this drink sucks — Annie says, finishing the drink anyway and following him. We always drink the last drop of it, we never learn.

The girls went dancing, the music was exceptionally good today. A lot of bands I already liked plus some I have never heard before. I need to remember to ask Reiner for this playlist later. Connie was already surrounded by a different group, everyone likes to talk to him. He is popular. The rest dispersed as well and I could hear Hange's screams far away. This is going to be a night for her, indeed.

I start walking around, meeting a lot of people from my classes and others from the campus in general. I talk to all of them and drink a lot in the process, which feeds my need for nicotine every time. I grab my pack of cigarettes and while smoking, I see Levi.

— I must be dreaming — I say, letting the smoke leave my lips with a smile. It reaches him and looks at me with a deadly expression. He is smoking as well, but he only admits one specific brand of cigarettes and hates all the others. Levi usually doesn't show up at these "brat" parties, as he likes to say, since he's a few years older than us. I normally see him at Shina's, which is a popular club slash bar near our university. He's the owner so we all met him there, after going so many times. Shina has the best parties and the best drinks of all the clubs near us. And it couldn't be any other way, since Levi is a perfectionist. There's also a small stage there, where indie bands perform from time to time. My band does some gigs there sometimes.

— Hey — he replies, as cold as ever. He's Mikasa's cousin, so they have the same expressions and hard-to-approach vibe — Already high, I see.

— Always. In fact, today I hope to be higher than usual. What miracle brings you here?

— Some people from the staff decided to come here today so there are fewer brats to piss me off — he drinks what's probably a high priced whiskey and continues — and there's a new girl at the club so we have been showing her the area for a few weeks now.

— There's a lot of new girls here today — although I know Levi doesn't give a crap.

— So? — yeah, he doesn't.

Levi is a pretty successful business owner and even I have to admit that he's hot – is not only common knowledge but a mutual agreement between everyone –, so girls are always trying to get him, but he doesn't screw most of them. He doesn't fuck brats, period. He says he doesn't have the patience. That makes the girls even more desperate. He has the highest standards of every guy I know. When he was still in university – the same we all go –, he screwed not only the hottest girls but also the professors - which went after him and not the other way around. At least that's what I've heard. I think Levi never had to actively look for any girl, to be honest.

I can only laugh at his reply. That's just so him.

— If you want more stuff than what's already in your system, Floch is over there.

— I want, actually. I was going to look for him — I see Floch's red hair among some folks. Floch is usually as busy as Connie but with less than half of the charisma.

He finishes his cigarette, blowing its last white smoke into the air, and we both hear a loud HELL YEAH!! coming from all the other way across the room — Tsk, is that Hange?

— Pfft, it was before, I think it's Sasha now — he doesn't laugh at my reply. He never does. I think hell would freeze while heaven catches on fire.

I think about the music again. It's so good today, what the hell — Hey Levi, don't you think this playlist is too high quality for a Reiner party? I don't get it, his music taste is always pure trash.

— That's from our new girl — he drinks the last drops of his whiskey and starts to leave — You might find her around here — he then suddenly stops and looks at me — Don't get your hopes up, though.

I am not able to ask what he meant by that because he leaves too quickly. Time to look for Floch.

— Hey, Flo-

— Here.

— You didn't even let me finish.

— I know what you want. You are not in the mood for cocaine so you want MD instead, blah-blah-blah-blah. Is that kind of night — he pauses for mere seconds — Am I wrong, Eren?

— Nope, right as usual — Floch is the main person you go to when you need drugs. I mean, good drugs. He looks like your standard rich boy – which he is, by the way – that can do no wrong, but you can get the best stuff from him. I've always found this funny. The weed I have today was his work. He knows my taste well.

Reiner's frat house is huge, so there's plenty of room to walk. I'm approached by a bunch of girls on the way but for some reason, none of them piques my interest. I am pretty set on going after something new today and I have no problem getting laid. It happened every single day this week and it truly happens anytime I want. Which, okay, boosts my ego a little bit. Maybe a lot. I might even have hurt some girls in the process. I was never slapped though, unlike Jean. So that's a win in my book.

I see a few of my friends again, mainly Historia and Reiner, and they are talking to a girl I've never seen before.

She has long black hair and short messy bangs, the kind that goes a little above the eyebrows. I didn't know black hair was my thing until now. Her face has the perfect features, at least for me. She's wearing a sleeveless white top that is so tight that hugs her figure perfectly and makes her breasts look amazing. That type of top that shows the girl's side boob, and I'm a total sucker for those. It is also short so you can see a bit of her waist. And I don't even have to see her ass because I already know it is probably too damn good. Her light blue ripped jeans are cool as well and she has black sneakers. I like her style. She has a bunch of tattoos - a lot on her right arm, one on her left hand, and probably some that I couldn't see because they were behind her clothes. I intended to, though.

Fuck, she's hot.

Historia looks mesmerized talking to her, which is a very privileged view from where I stand because, as I've already said before, she is also beautiful. But she isn't exactly hot. This girl is. Way too much. Oh, and Reiner is there too. Whatever.

I can see a lot of guys want to approach her but none of them do. I went for it. Wasn't this night supposed to be wild?

— Hey, Eren! Guess what, Y/N is the new DJ at Shina! I was telling her how we go there all the time.

— Hi, Eren, nice to meet you — she says, with that kind of smile that people who know they are hot make. I do that too.

— Hey, Y/N — I say. And as I told you seconds before, I'm good with that type of smile as well so that's what she gets — Levi told me he came with the staff and a new girl, so I suppose that's you.

— Yeah, I'll start there next week.

— I talked to him about the party's playlist because I knew it couldn't be Reiner's.

— Yeah, it's Y/N's. She prepared it for the party when I invited the guys from Shina yesterday. We were in the same high school. — Reiner says that looking at me with a face that shows "See that, dickhead? I've known her for some years now".

— It's pretty good! I can't wait for the next party at Shina's to see your set! — Historia was always an angel.

REINER, WHERE'S THE REST OF THE ICE, MAN??, someone screamed far away.

— Shit. Catch up with you later, Y/N.

Too bad, huh, Reiner? He gives me a look that I can't quite figure out what it is, but I know for sure it wasn't a look of support. In the fucking slightest.

— I think Ymir is calling me as well, sorry!! — It was painfully obvious that Ymir wanted to make out with Historia for some time now. They never did. I think only Historia hasn't realized yet that Ymir is thirsty for her for god knows how long.

After Historia left, there was only me and her — So, by any chance, do you go to the same university as us? You look our age but Levi said you are new here — I tried asking this without looking at her body, but looking at her face was even worse. Her eyes were piercing me in the best way possible.

— I'm not exactly new, I'm from the same uni as you guys, but I took a gap year — she takes a sip of her drink — You probably never met me but I'm in the same year as you all are now.

Since Reiner knew her from high school, he also knew she was at the same university all along and never told any of the guys. Smart fucker.

— So that makes you a year older than me — I smirk at her.

— I guess it does — she smirks back as she lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke at me.

Ok, looking good so far.

I'm pretty high at this point, the MD and the music are making me horny, so I don't even bother to pretend that I'm not looking at her body. I'm looking at everything.

— You took something, didn't you?

— Do you want some? I can show you later where to get the best stuff. Anything you are in the mood for.

— I'm all set — she shows me her tongue and I see the acid. The view makes my own tongue feel lonely, maybe I should use it to steal that from her mouth. I hope she's horny as well.

We talk a lot about music since it's something that we both enjoy. She's passionate about it, I can tell. She asks about my band with true interest. Doesn't sound like small talk. She touches her hair and it makes me want to stuff my face in it. She has the smile that makes you want more. Her voice has the same effect.

The loud music allows us to talk near each other's ears. I hope she moans as loud as her playlist. The girls usually love my hair for some reason, either if it's in a messy bun as it is right now or if it's loose. They all love my green eyes too. She can see all that with somewhat detail since we are so close, even though it is a little dark here. If I take you to a room you can see me better, I almost blurb it out. I can see her too and that kills me.

She looks receptive to me but normally at this point I would be already hooking up with the girl. This time it isn't happening. I never have to work so much. I think I understand why the other guys didn't approach her before. She's a little intimidating to talk to, and that comes naturally to her – it doesn't seem to be on purpose. I flirt with her the way I normally do but she is hard to get, she hits every ball I throw. I remember what Levi said before. Oh, right.

But I'm vibing way too much at this point, I think if I touch any part of her I'll get hard immediately.

— This gap year you've mentioned... Did you go anywhere specific?

— I know it will sound cliché, but I went to Europe.

— Where in Europe?

— Everywhere — she says — I went down — the corner of her lips forming a smile  — And up. Everywhere. — and I can swear she sounds flirtatious as hell. I want to bite her lip.

— That sounds... Awesome. — I think she wants to bite me too, or at least I hope she does — Was there any particular reason to leave? If that's not too much to ask.

— Hm, I was kinda... — she stops to think for a few seconds as she holds her hair up and makes a ponytail, looking at the ground, the cigarette glued to her now closed lips. Her neck became exposed, it looks soft as hell and I can't wait to bruise it. She releases the smoke, that flows into the room, and looks deep into my eyes, as deep as I want to be inside her right now — ...stressed.

I reach my limit at this point.

— I can help you with the stress if you want.

— Really? — she's looking at me with the same teasing look and I'm doing the same, so we both know that's not a question I have to answer. Her tongue quickly passes through her top lip, her mouth forming a little wet smile — I don't think I need any help though.

I threw the ball and she hit a home run. My team was out.

I was not expecting that.

We hear some of the guys from Shina calling for her — Oh, they are calling me — Y/N looks at me again and says — See you around, Eren — giving me the same fucking grin I wanted to bite before.

She walks away and I see that her ass is, as I suspected from the very beginning, too damn good.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

After this, some time has passed. I look at the clock. Yeah, maybe a lot. I couldn't tell before because I'm drunk and drugged. I see most of my friends, all fucking wasted. Armin is holding up pretty well, Bertholdt's is knocked down for God knows how long, Mikasa probably smoked way too much weed (who am I to judge?) and looks dead on the couch. I don't see Ymir, Historia nor Reiner - there are too many people in this house to keep count. Sasha's eating something in the kitchen, I can't see what it is, but certainly, she got hungrier than normal after smoking some pot Connie gave her. Connie always holds his drinks well, he's still talking to a lot of people. I pass in front of one of the bathrooms and Hange is there, getting everything out of her system. Oh, and Ymir. There she is, holding Hange's hair, looking as pissed as ever. Levi probably went home hours ago. Jean is making out with some chick, he's going to score tonight. To be fair, he always does, but never with Mikasa.

I saw a lot of pretty girls today and I went for none of them. They tried and I shut them down, even the ones I normally fuck. There's someone I want to taste tonight and she's nowhere to be found. The guys from Shina are missing too, so I know I won't see her today anymore. Damn.

I'm not pissed at her but I'm pissed at the situation.

— Armin, I think I'm going to take off, are you coming?

— Yeah, I'm already pretty tired — he gets up — Jean's probably going to stay here.

— Yep. Probably. — Am I pissed that Jean's getting laid? Even though I could have as well? With someone else, at least? My mood feels off.

— I'm going with you too, I've lost count of how many assholes I had to shut down today. I think I even punched a few — I don't have to look to know that's Annie speaking — You were right, Eren, is it especially crowded today. In the shittiest way possible.

— Then let's go.

— Wait, I need to get my bag first, I left it in Reiner's room.

— I can get that for you, wait up.

— It's a black one. Small.

I sign a thumbs up for her and climb the stairs. I am hundred percent sure I'm going to see someone fucking there but that's the usual. I'm pretty sure I've already seen some people screwing in the corner of the living room minutes before. No one cares.

I open the door and see Y/N in her underwear, putting her white top back on. She does indeed have other tattoos.

— Hey there! — she says smiling, as she also puts her jeans back up, making little jumps so they pass through her ass. Her hair is not in a ponytail anymore.

I say hi in a confusing way.

— I came here to get my friend's bag — I look around for milliseconds like I don't know where the hell I am until I see Reiner lying - clearly naked - under his sheets. Can't be anyone else, with that bleached hair and huge biceps.

What? Ahn?

Hey... Wait a second.

Historia? Clearly naked as well? What. The. Hell. I guess she's not exactly the angel I thought she was?

They are sort of awake, sort of sleeping, kinda like on a different planet. You know, the type of thing that happens after a really strong fuck? That sort. They look exhausted. They look destroyed. And not in a bad way. AT ALL.

— Oh, I saw a bag before. Here you go — she gives me Annie's bag. She's all dressed now. She notices my confusion, I'm too high to act any other way — I've told you I don't need any help — her eyes piercing mine for the hundredth time tonight. Her smile hurts now. Ouch.

She grabs her sneakers and walks towards me and the door:

— I'm all set.

She leaves the room as I hold Annie's bag.

Yeah. I was not expecting that.

***

Thanks for reading (if there's even anyone here lmao). Chapter 2 will be uploaded later but it can be read now at AO3 or Wattpad.

#eren yeager #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #eren x you #eren x reader #aot smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin x reader #smut #eren #aot #ao3 #female reader #m/f ships #f/f fanfic #f/f smut #m/f smut #eren jaeger #snk x reader #snk #snk eren #aot fandom #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fandom #tw drugs #all set

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 17: Dirty Little Secret

CW: Creepy whumper, whumper POV, implied whump of a minor, implied noncon references

“Well, Kelly, you’ve spent an hour talking politics, is there anything else you’d like to hear my thoughts on today?” Governor Oliver Branch sits easily in the padded chair behind his desk. It’s a deep, dark burgundy with little brass accents, and not that he intends to tell Kelly Donahue this particular bit of information, but it very comfortably holds the weight of two.

“Well, let me check.” Kelly smiles at him - bright, perfectly-applied deep pink lipstick, camera-ready stylish-but-demure blue dress, legs crossed politely at ankles, sensible heels. Shellacked hair. The cameraman, on the other hand, is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and looks like he’s ready for a beer at the bar downtown.

Oliver would rather be at the bar, too.

Still, he’s just as camera-ready as Donahue - had his boy get his favorite suit out, a charcoal gray so dark it’s nearly black, while they played Interview. Baldur loves the game - one of the only times Oliver allows him to speak, when he pretends to be a reporter asking Oliver questions, and Oliver loves the sparkle he gets in his eyes.

He loves extinguishing the sparkle, at the end of the game, even more.

The color of his suit is carefully chosen to pop against the chair, and he hasn’t worn it on TV before. It’ll go over well, he’s sure of it. Even Nancy had nice things to say.

The tie he’s wearing - a burgundy that matches the chair with a brass-colored tie pin, just to hammer the coordination home - was wrapped around Baldur’s wrists this morning. There’s a delicious little thrill to wearing it now, knowing that some of Baldur’s sweat is still in the silken fabric. 

He takes a breath, thinking of the way the boy knows how to beg, and how delightful it is to read in his eyes how much he would like to beg for it to stop, but is too well-trained to do anything but beg for more.

The shameless scandal of it all, if they ever found out, always adds an edge to their moments together. Baldur is, of course, as close to a relationship as Oliver has had since he decided to run for Governor.

Got a little annoying to keep paying to keep rumors underwraps. Didn’t cost so much more to simply buy himself someone no one else will ever know about. An easy financial decision, nothing more.

A financial decision that knows exactly how to do that thing with his hips-

“Are you open to some questions about your personal life?” Kelly cocks her head, and her hair doesn’t move an inch. Oliver can’t help the way his eyebrows raise, very slightly. Whoever does her hair… Oliver would very much like to offer them double their wages at the studio to get them to do his hair instead.

“Oh, of course, Kelly. You know, I’ve always been an open book to my constituents, since I ran for city councilman and read my own ‘don’t ask about’ file out loud during a meeting.”

A nice bit of theater, that. He claimed to have gotten it from his opponent, but really… Oliver had written the damn thing himself. No one knows your dirty little secrets better than you do, after all. 

“Yeah, I remember - I was there for that.” Kelly laughs, tucks a bit of hair behind one ear.

Oliver blinks, looking her over. He thickens his southern drawl, one of the things polls routinely find his constituents find endearing about him. Just a good old boy from Charleston, somehow finds his way to California to settle down for good. Really, it adds a hint of sincerity to all is falsehoods. “No. Impossible! You’re hardly old enough, my dear.” It sounds like idle flattery, but for once, it’s all genuine. Oliver’s been governor of this great state for nearly a decade, and was city councilman for quite some time before that, and Kelly can’t possibly have been out of school-

“I was a senior in high school,” She says, almost shyly, apparently guessing at his next question. If he were a different man, he might flirt with her. But what’s the point, when he has someone - something better, hidden away just behind that door? 

“What led a senior in high school to attend a boring old city council meeting? Sure you weren’t such a good civic-minded young citizen as all that?”

She giggles a little, then glances over her shoulder, mouths something at the cameraman. Oliver can guess what. Edit that out.

Kelly Donahue doesn’t want the episode to be aired with her giggling like a schoolgirl at a bit of idle flattery. Well. Everyone has their things they like to hide, don’t they?

She has her giggle. Oliver has a teenage boy locked in his bedroom.

He almost wishes he’d had Baldur hide under the desk for this, instead. Imagines speaking with Kelly, all sincere interest and open honesty, while petting through Baldur’s soft, shining hair, hooking fingers into his collar to pull him up against Oliver’s leg… He thinks about hosting a perfectly normal interview while Baldur is drugged to dozing, right there. 

He’s done it a dozen times with field trips and one-on-ones. Flirting with disaster - with the absolute chaos that would ensue if the boy were found - is exciting in ways that nothing else in Oliver’s life ever has been.

Baldur’s so very good at holding so very, very still for him, and feeling that boy shaking with energy he isn’t allowed to expend, fighting all his own instincts... Oliver had his youthful indiscretions, and there is no drug, no girl, no boy, no drink… nothing in his life, absolutely nothing, feels as good as knowing that Baldur’s entire body is begging him to move - and one word from Oliver means he can’t.

And if he does - if he breaks the order, if he cannot help but disobey it… well, then Oliver gets to do his favorite thing on Earth. He gets to tell Baldur it’s time to play a game.

Then he gets to hurt him, and hear the way he cries.

There is no power on earth like the power you could hold over another human being’s very nature, and all for a bit of money changing hands in discreet ways. Thank God for shell corporations, or he’d be in prison by now.

“Oh,” Kelly says, blushing a little, interrupting his thoughts. He ticks his smile a little wider. “I was there to argue about something with the Pledge of Allegiance, actually.”

“Ah, yes. The Young Republicans Club. I remember that whole mess.” Oliver waves on hand, gives a soft laugh. “If you’re still in contact with any of them, I do hope you’ll give them my absolute apologies for stealing their thunder that night. I promise you, Kelly, Scout’s honor-” Oliver crosses his fingers up in a little salute. He was never once in his fucking life a Boy Scout.  A little money changes hands, a few documents are forged, and now he was an Eagle Scout who led community service. Funny how that works. “-I had no idea what any of the topics were going to be, I was too nerved up that night, really I was.”

“Oh, that was years ago.” She waves her hand a little, but her own smile has widened in response to his. “It’s not a problem. I was just… honestly, I didn’t see it at the time, but it was a privilege to see that kind of political theater in action.”

Oliver’s laugh is bright, and loud, and he wonders if the boy can hear it, through two doorways and a hallway’s worth of distance. If he’ll listen for the sound of his Sir’s laugh, to try and gauge when it’s over. If he’ll be waiting at the door to the bedroom, waiting to be allowed out, to be given permission to do… well, anything.

“Theater? I am wounded, Kelly. I was merely being honest-”

“Now, Oliver, I know a bit of showing off when I see it - I do plenty of it on my own.” Kelly laughs, too, and they are such good friends, Oliver and the journalists who come here to interview him. He’s a boring bit of story, honestly - a reliable progressive governor of a reliably progressive state. No wife and no kids, no scandals, no weekend indiscretions. 

Governor Oliver Branch does his job and does it well. His legislature likes him, more or less. His constituency adores him. He’s been re-elected in a landslide. There’s been talk about Presidential aspirations, although Oliver’s never thought any higher than the Senate.

Senator Oliver Branch. 

Now that sounds lovely, doesn’t it?

He’ll have dumped the boy by then, of course. No loose ends. The boy has plenty of skills to find himself a new keeper. Even if he doesn’t, he won’t be Oliver’s problem anymore, will he?

He’ll buy another, then.

He and Kelly chat, the interview going off without a hitch. It’s softballs all the way through, easy-to-answer questions, because no one has any difficult questions for him these days. No, Oliver is a good governor in a good state doing good things with good intentions.

Oliver smiles. The questions are easy and his approval ratings are high. There’s been some discussion about a Presidential run, although he’ll of course be bashful and refuse such an idea. His character can’t take the scrutiny, he’ll say, and everyone will laugh. 

All great men have things they’d rather hide, after all.

Although perhaps not things quite like this.

Down the hall, behind a locked door, Oliver Branch’s dirty little secret sits wearing only one of Oliver’s button-ups, knobby knees curled up to his chest, collar buckled snugly around his neck.

The boy rocks and rocks, staring through the tiniest gap in the drapes over the balcony door, watching the clouds move in the sky and wondering what it would feel like to go outside.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes

#whumptober2020 #whump #box boy #chris the strawberry blond romantic #oliver branch is gross #implied noncon reference #torture references #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whumper pov #captivity #implied whump of a minor

[thejudgingtrash]

My unpopular opinion: Chiron is a horrible teacher, protector, whatever. He’s as bad dumbledor. He often manipulates children and put them in danger? Also is RR really trying to tell me not one single demigod from before percy’s generation made it to adulthood? Not even demigods of minor gods? If not then why haven’t we heard from them, why weren’t they called to fight in the war so that literal children didn’t have to? I have more but I’m not brave enough to post them lol

Fuck, I gotta check my asks more often. Too much stuff laying around and oh please people! Send your stuff in! Don’t be shy! It’s so interesting to see what’s on your mind! Let’s have that conversation and ask me!! :D I mean a bunch of people agreed and disagreed with my stances (Part 1/Part 2), let’s see how I feel about yours!

Anyway HERE WE GO BOYS! LET’S GO LESBIANS LET’S GO! 

LET’S HAVE THAT WHOLE DAMN ESSAY!

Chiron is clearly a self insert from Riordan. I mean come on…

That’s a solid Chiron if I see one. Which is pretty ironic as Chiron’s the shitty teacher who we all know and love. Got something to admit, Riordan? You as a former teacher? HMM?

Hiding incompetence under the disguise of the gentle old wise teacher is definitely something that Dumbledore and Chiron share. Chiron is the old centaur who lived for aeons and helped out the most famous heroes of their times, so shouldn’t modern times be considered to be an easier job for him? He’s barely present, highkey vague and has absolutely no problems with tossing children literally out into the open across the entire fucking US and A to clean the gods’ bathroom messes.

Had the heroes been in their 20s like in the original myths (or even older) it would’ve made more sense to let them find their own ways. It would be rude,  but somewhat okay. You could expect adults to find the way and connect the dots. But this is just messing with a bunch of 12 year olds because you can at this point.

Chiron is that supposed sweet teacher that just fucks up. We all had one, you know the one. Seems gentle and nice and but has clearly chosen the wrong job. Don’t know if that’s the trauma of living that long and/or seeing kids dying constantly that’s hitting him in the back of the head.

I have the feeling that people are projecting their teacher fantasies on to him just like step-father fantasies that include Paul. Because we want a guide who is trustworthy, we want an authoritative figure that we can share our concerns with and who guides us to solid solutions without betraying our trust.

But like I said, he’s essentially sending out kids to deathly missions and encouraging deep traumas. Yes, we can partially blame Chiron, but most of the blame goes to the gods who enable and encourage this weird dynamic. Would all of them straight up cut the bullshit and mostly resolve their own issues without using their children as pawns, it would’ve been easier for everyone involved. Additionally, there are many kids in camp to keep busy, look after and care for. I don’t know how many there were pre-TLO but I’d assume the number was in the hundreds? Of course, in larger cabins are camp counsellors that help out and guide next to camp schedules. But since Percy’s the only kid in the Poseidon cabin I guess that thought went south? Percy being the special kid would actually mean that there should be a focus on him unless you’re going for the “I’m neutral” spiel. Chiron knew from day one that Percy was walking Poseidon seed, come on.

Also like I somewhat implied, seeing people die left and right might have impacted Chiron to make him feel indifferent/despressed (could also be a stretch, who knows). Which isn’t an excuse, but might explain some takes. Explaining the same stuff for millennia in its essentials is probably getting tiring.

I think this is the third time that I mentioned it on my blog but showing and telling are the most powerful story telling concepts/fundamentals and you see Rowling and Riordan constantly failing at that which is concerning. Instead of Chiron (or Dumbledore) just simply getting down to the point and telling and explaining stuff briefly, he only eludes, vaguely formulates and it is simply confusing especially for a child in a brand new environment who just lost his mother (if we’re speaking about TLT). This does nothing but add more stress in such a fragile situation especially when a new and bigger threat makes its way.

There’s also the discussion on how much of Greek myth Percy actually gets. He has the basic/ obvious knowledge which many tend to forget. He doesn’t come in with no knowledge. He had Latin classes back at the academy, he studies with Annabeth, he knows some of the monsters. What he simply doesn’t know, is the magic of it all. That is the most confusing part for him.

The actual magic is not explained, which it doesn’t have to be in all of its entirety, but needs to be addressed somehow and gradually.

Percy asking a simple question like how the camp stays sunny and covered 24/7 and how the wardens work and Chiron casually sitting here like you a stoopid one

doesn’t help.

What many people forget: Magic doesn’t erase logic. Even in a magical setting, unless clearly stated, there has to be some kind of logic to connect the dots. It doesn’t need to be a clear cut A to B, but it should be comprehensible for both the readers and the characters in a particular situation. And that’s just not happening for Percy as the character. This also sets up the premise of Percy being ”stupid” which he isn’t. He is surrounded by incompetent teachers and staff that don’t bother telling him how things work and assume that he’ll just manage.

Yeah. Both Dumbledore and Chiron are awfulness in a sweet calm disguise.

Onto part two of the ask. I have had so many talks with people on that exact problem. It simply boils down to one issue:

Rick Riordan‘s inconsistency in world building and setting. The story telling doesn’t make any sense.

So kids are dying like flies before 18 but many are also super famous and in powerful positions? Many are historical figures that made it well over 18? Make that make sense. Also was WW2 supposed to be kicked off by some 12 year olds with that logic? The biggest man made catastrophe of the modern era boiled down to a bunch of fighting kids? No. We all know it. Just simply no. I actually don’t mind the WW2 background but Riordan should’ve given it another thought and be a bit more sensitive…? Like the whole fascist gang being team Hades? Uhh… sure…. nope.

Also the same logic applies to Civil War? You’re telling me a bunch of kids were supposed to have started this stance? Who was for and who was against slavery then? What in the actual fuck? Using children as child soldiers to stand in for these large complex historical issues that stretch over years and show many of humanity’s horrifying sides is just….eh.

No. This whole thing about campers dying as soon as they reach the magic number of 18 are either bedtime stories to scare the kids or toughen them up orrrr my guess, Riordan actually managed yet again to fuck up his own lore.

It’s the same logic with New Rome. You have a whole city full of adults but have a few kids run that bitch? You did your ten years of service as a child soldier and then do one of these?

As if adults magically exit this world. Like is that the reason why Percy’s been 17 for a whole damn decade? Because otherwise he gotta hand riptide in and all of the boys scout medals he has collected so far? Adults would’ve had the experience and expertise to win those fights but it would break the magic and charm of the books that a bunch of kids are saving the world for the younger demographic. Let’s do not forget that the targeted audience of the books are middle schoolers. Makes somewhat sense with PJO but with HOO Riordan really shot himself in the leg. He should’ve matured the OG characters at least.

(Also speaking about the actual myths again. A good chunk of them died in their 20s/30s/40s. Odysseus guided as an old man. The heroes weren’t twelve and dipping by the age of 16. The Trojan war went on for 10 years for example. So whereas the real Perseus lived a longer life and had a somewhat happy ending in comparison to his peers, he wasn’t the only one that made it into adulthood.)

Riordan mixing up his own lore is just a shame. Yes, it’s human and he already gets a lot of flag for other stuff. I also get it as a writer with my fanfic where I really have to scroll up to search tiny details that I’ve embedded and not noted down. Perhaps it’s my inner capitalist speaking, but for I’m way more forgiving towards a free product, a gift like a fanfic, rather than something I’ve paid actual money for when it comes to this. The process of publishing a book is large. You mean to tell me that there was no editor at Disney that bothered to fact check? Riordan got a check from us all and doesn’t even bother looking up his own stuff. A little bit more effort, Ricardo. Please. You have an entire damn wiki you could use to check for free if you’re too lazy to read your own books/don’t use authors softwares. Like what?

It’s stupid. You know it, I know it. And as you can see, I fully agree with you.

#ask #ask me anons #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #chiron #chb #rr crit #rick riordan #hoo #heroes of olympus #my rants #camp half-blood #dumbledore #pjo hot takes

[ackervida]

Flames of Nirvana, ch 1

Hello there, everyone! I’ve wanted to join the fandom and the Levi love bandwagon for the longest time, and since quarantine started I was like why not. So I wrote this bad boy (all day every day for the past month and a half might I add) and I hope you guys like it! The story is all written out, and updates will be every Sunday.

TW: This story will contain strong language, canon-typical violence, implied/mentions of rape, mentions of suicide, abuse, suicide attempts and explicit sexual content. It is manga compliant up until chapter 128, so there will be spoilers!

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23990044/chapters/57707902

Summary: In the heat of a never ending war, Levi finds himself recruiting a compromised spy. But the war outside is nothing compared to their own inner battles, and hand in hand, they find the strength to conquer them one by one. And the world follows.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Chapter 1

Levi swirled the tea in his cup pensively. It was still so strange to him, how the Marleyans drank their tea – sweetened and diluted with milk, leaving little room for the subtle, herbal flavors. He’d spat it back into the cup the first time he tried it, and in the following months, the Eldian Captain adopted the habit to request his tea plain, as much as it attracted odd glances from shopkeepers.

This particular teashop, however, was quite to his liking. Quaint, small enough to be peaceful, yet spacious enough to allow him to blend in with the other customers without being recognized, despite the telltale scars on his face. The tea itself wasn’t exactly what he remembered from home, but it came with free cookies and the Eldian old lady who usually brought his order was sweet, bubbly and never disclosed the fact that she knew exactly who he was.

Levi’s identity wasn’t as much of a problem as it used to be when the remaining Scouts permanently relocated to Marley’s capital, but there was still a level of dissent among the Marleyan citizens. After all, Eren’s near genocide had yet to be forgotten, and the new war put a wholly new strain on Marleyans’ views on Eldians.

Taking a tentative sip of the hot brew, Levi sighed. In his own way, the Captain had wearily come to terms with the fact that Eren had turned into a lost cause, yet he still couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe the idiot wouldn’t have done what he did if he’d been aware that peace still wouldn’t be an option. Yes, the Colossal titans would have crushed Marley.

What would have happened once they reached Starke?

It didn’t matter now, Levi mused. Whether the Starkans would have been able to fend off was irrelevant. What mattered was that this technologically superior nation suddenly entered the war and helped the Jaegerists seize control of Paradise Island; now, they’d joined forces against Marley and Hizuru, seeking the so-called spread of ‘civilization’ and ‘evolution’ through conquest.

Any hope that Levi might have had about seeing the carnage come to an end had been squandered.

“Is the tea not to your liking, my dear? I was excited to get this new mix, but I know you’re a fussy one,” Matilda, the shopkeeper, stopped by Levi’s table. Her mouth and eye crinkles spoke of a lifelong determination to smile, even though Levi knew better than to assume she’d led anything but an easy life in the Eldian ghettos. She’d never spoken to him of family, and the Captain had never asked.

“It’s not bad,” the brunet replied, taking another sip. His prosthetic fingers felt strange around the steaming mug – they couldn’t feel heat. “What was it called again? Robos?”

“Rooibos,” Matilda smiled, wordlessly setting another plate of sugar cookies on the table. Levi lifted a hand in protest, but the older woman shushed him quiet. “It’s on the house. If you’re worried about your silhouette, why don’t you share them with the pretty young lady back there? She’s been looking at you since you came in, and I don’t want to be insensitive but you do look like you could use some company.”

She winked to indicate precisely what kind of ‘company’ she was implying, and subtly tilted her head towards a table on the opposite side of the establishment, where a lone young woman was eating a bowl of soup. Levi met her E/C eyes as soon as he glanced her way and was inwardly surprised that the girl didn’t immediately avert her gaze. Instead, she held his stare for a few intense seconds, after which her eyes suggestively flitted to the seat in front of her.

Levi served the oblivious, but well-intended shopkeeper a half-hearted scowl, yet the Captain rose from his chair, having understood that the woman’s interest was not in any way hormonal or sparked by recognition. Matilda still leapt for joy – after all, Levi normally arrived and left alone, except for the rare occasion where he agreed to bring Hange or his former squad with him for an unnecessarily obnoxious lunch break. The bubbly shopkeeper took great care not to forget the cookies, setting them between Levi and the mysterious lady with a much too enthusiastic smile.

“So what’s your deal?” the brunet got straight to the point, leaning back and crossing his legs. Contrary to what he was expecting, the young woman broke into a quiet fit of giggles.

“You’re as charming as I’ve heard. You really must be the famous Captain Levi Ackerman.”

Though relieved that she hadn’t said it loud enough for the entire shop to hear, Levi snorted in annoyance. He really didn’t want to blow his only precious break with one of those air wasting assholes who liked to coat their point in useless pleasantries.

“Oi. Just spit it. What the hell do you want?”

The girl gave him a cool smile that lasted just a second too long for it to be natural, before resuming her eating. “Well, I… you don’t know this, but you saved my family when you coordinated the evacuation from the outskirts during the Rumbling. I wanted to thank you and… maybe treat you to some lunch?” she asked shyly, curling a strand of hair behind her ear in what appeared to be a coy gesture. However, Levi got a glimpse of the device attached to her ear and understood her message. She couldn’t be straight with him – she was being listened to.

The Captain downed the rest of his tea and politely asked Matilda to come over. “I guess I wouldn’t mind it. I’ll have what she’s having.”

He endured the conversation the girl seemed to produce out of thin air and ate his cauliflower soup diligently – even though, whoever she actually was, she was weird as fuck for liking something so bland. He figured that some of the questions she was asking were being dictated to her through the earpiece, so Levi offered vague or fake answers, silently hoping that whatever her plan was, she would get on with it faster.

“Oranges, you say? I don’t think I’ve ever had them,” the Captain commented almost absentmindedly, yet the woman’s eyes lit up with genuine joy and what seemed to be relief.

“Really? Never? You can come by my parents’ orchard anytime and you won’t leave without a full basket,” she laughed. “Actually, here, I’ll write you the address. If you have the time and, of course, if you want to… you can visit me. All the exotic fruit in the world won’t be enough to repay you, but this is the least I can do,” she opened her little bag and ripped a piece of paper from a notebook, scribbling furiously. “Not to mention… I’ve really loved your company. You seem to be a very gentle man, Levi. Can I call you Levi?”

“Be my guest,” the brunet replied, stuffing the paper in his pocket without looking at it and leaving their consumption’s worth of cash on the table. “You can make it up to me with that fruit basket,” he said when the girl began to protest, making her flash another one of those fake smiles. If she hadn’t made it obvious, Levi doubted he would have been able to tell, yet now that he knew that all her reactions were fake, he couldn’t help but dislike that forced smile on her otherwise beautiful features. Questions about who was employing her and what she was trying to gain from her interaction with him were swirling in his mind at miles per hour, way more interesting than any mundane topic of discussion.

The Captain made a point of ignoring Matilda’s cheeky grin as he led the young girl towards the exit and reciprocated her goodbye wishes. As she walked away, sundress flowing with the wind, Levi remained there for a while, a foot in the shop and a foot outside. After making sure no one was observing him, he fished out the note.

Once he read it, his hand flew straight to his own earpiece.

“Hange, get all the brats ready. We’re moving out as soon as I get back to base.”

“It’s still warm,” Hange said, her hand gripping a coffee mug. “They must have just fled.”

“Shit,” Levi cursed in frustration, dropping his rifle. The information the woman had given him was true – upon breaking into it much too easily, this produce farm was indeed a concealed military establishment belonging to the Starkan army. The note had also informed him that the Starkan commander, Victor Baal, would be present, so Levi had prepared an entire assassination operation at the speed of light – which made the complete bareness of the place even more of a disappointment.

It was also annoyingly pristine and unassuming at a first glance. The small room they were in looked like nothing more than a quaint, family-style common area, with hand-crafted rugs, a large wooden table and an attached kitchenette, where the coffee kettle still rested on a gas stove. Levi’s former squad, now led by Jean, as well as Reiner, Pieck and Annie had needed to very nearly demolish all the hidden chambers in order to discover the vast array of training areas, supplies and, most importantly, technological equipment.

“They appear to have left all equipment behind, including fuel and computers,” Armin confirmed as he walked back in, Jean, Connie and Mikasa following suit. “There is a massive storage room below us, fully equipped. At least that’s a good thing, right?”

“If they’re not laced with explosives that’ll paint the walls with our brains, then yes. Terrific,” replied Annie, who had given up any and all exploration upon realizing they’d been outrun, and was lounging casually on one of the chairs. Mikasa glared at her for the sarcastic way she’d talked to Armin, but the blonde merely rolled her eyes as if to say there was no other possible response.

“I already asked Magath to send tech support our way. Until then, if there’s nothing else, I suppose we can’t do much other than try not to get too depressed,” Hange sighed, rubbing her temples. Despite her words, the cat-and-mouse chase this war consisted of was really jarring – they’d finally gotten a good lead, they were so close, and they blew it.

All heads in the room whipped up, however, when one of the doors slammed against the wall. Reiner barged in, along with Pieck, both of them wearing distressed expressions.

“All of you need to come down to the storage room, now!”

“There’s weapons, Reiner, we know already-“

“I found a trap door,” Pieck interrupted. “We haven’t opened it fully yet, but… it smells like death.”

Upon walking into the spacious area, where the walls were laced with rifles and carefully attached explosive devices, as well as labeled boxes piled neatly behind pillars, the soldiers collectively covered their faces with their elbows. They were all used to the smell of corpses, but this level of decay and putrefaction could make anyone dizzy. Connie gagged almost instantly, not even reaching the top of the staircase before spilling the inside of his stomach.

“Do you need him for this?” Mikasa tilted her head towards her retching teammate while addressing Pieck. The brunette shook her head no, so Mikasa turned towards him fully.

“Connie, go and bring some wet rags. Take your time.”

“And clean that up,” Levi mumbled under his breath, upper lip curled in disgust. “Only other stench we need now is someone’s shit.”

Hange only graced her friend with a patient look, coughing into her fist. Her bespectacled eyes were inspecting the floor intensely, focusing on the small dent in the tiles. She hadn’t been in this room before, but it looked as though Reiner and Pieck had moved the asymmetrical tiles around in order to create the opening.

“How did you start opening it?”

“Better yet, how did you even see it?” Jean asked Pieck, holding the collar of his shirt over his nose. “Is that what happens when your face stays real close to floors for a long time?”

Severely unimpressed, the brunette merely pointed at the tiles lining the floor. They varied in shape and shades of grey, almost forming a pattern and yet not quite.

“If you press on them with your… hands, these tiles move. Also, the Starkans’ army symbol is a grey wolf. I figured I’d try arranging them to get that shape and… I got that small opening.”

Levi clicked his tongue. “So we’re going to have to play puzzle here?”

“No,” Armin replied, walking around the room with his eyebrows deeply creased in thought. “Based on the stench, and since we know that Starkans burn their bodies like we do, I think whatever is down there is a mass grave for prisoners and traitors. It would then have to be impossible to open from the inside, but-“

“Easy to access from the outside,” Hange finished his line of thought, very quickly deducing where Armin’s hypothesis was headed. “Also – have any of you found a possible way for an entire platoon to escape without being seen?”

Reiner huffed negatively. “You’re saying that’s what they used to flee?”

“That’s right,” Armin nodded, sharing a meaningful glance with his former Commander. “That makes it even more important for this trap door to open easily and quickly.”

The blond man crouched to the floor, his sky blue eyes gazing back and forth between the tiles with dashing speed and the wheels in his brain vigorously turning. No one spoke for a few pregnant moments, and they all held their breaths when Armin gently touched one tile, then pushed it with all his strength, huffing with the effort.

A loud machinery noise echoed in the room, and they all had to regain a sense of their footing as the floor moved with them. A gaping hole appeared in the floor, in the place of a grey wolf’s howling mouth.

“Holy shit,” Connie, who’d just begun his descent down the stairs, gaped. Instantly, though, he had to cover his nose and mouth with one of the wet towels he’d procured, promptly throwing the rest of them to his teammates as the stench became very nearly unbearable.

Levi turned his flashlight on and took the lead, overcome with a sense of impatience – after all, if the Starkans had escaped through this passage, there was still a chance they might be able to catch up if they moved quickly. “Let’s go.”

The first thing the Captain stepped on was a pool of moisture, and then something squelched beneath his foot. So much for shit being the last thing they needed. There seemed to be lightbulbs on the ceiling, yet inconveniently they weren’t functional. Levi pointed the light towards the wet floor and, unsurprisingly, he was met with floating bones, as well as feces and decomposed flesh that had not yet fully disintegrated.

It was a good thing Marley never had sewage overflows, though it might be a good idea for them to check for corpses – or the enemy - from time to time.

“They seem to have gone either forward or backward. Reiner, do you have any clues?”

“I’m not exactly familiar with the sewers, but my guess is they went towards the ocean. The other way leads to the water filtering facilities.”

“And they never mentioned having to filter human bones?” Jean replied bitingly. Out of all of them, he had the hardest time warming up to the idea that now they were working and living with their former enemies, still holding a grudge on Reiner in particular.

Reiner sighed. “No. But since a Starkan spy is what got us here in the first place, it’s safe to assume they have spies in plenty of other places, and they’re not as helpful as the one Captain Levi met.”

“I wonder what’s going to happen to her,” Armin voiced sadly, trying his hardest not to stare at the decay around him or reply to his own question.

Levi kept silent, but the matter was twisting his gut as well.

“Do you guys hear that?” Connie asked quietly, bringing the team to a full stop. Indeed, from a few meters away, they could hear… moaning?

“Oi! Is anyone alive in here?” he broke off into a sprint, despite his comrades reaching out to stop him. Mikasa darted to run after him, yet she yelped after tripping on a very sturdy obstacle. Her reflexes prevented her from falling, but she gasped loudly when the flashlight revealed what had tripped her.

A battered man wheezing for air.

“Hange, I need the first aid kit!”

“Me too!” yelled Connie, who was trying to bring the body of a woman into an upright position, wincing as she broke into a violent coughing fit.

“Same here,” Annie called out, her arms fully submerged as she lifted another breathing person from the filthy waters.

The soldiers scrambled to offer first aid, at the same time trying to figure out if there were any more survivors that needed it. Something caught Levi’s peripheral vision, causing him to leave Mikasa and Pieck to tend to one of the victims by themselves.

“Levi, is there anyone else?” Hange questioned, but the Captain didn’t reply, cautiously approaching a patch of rippling water. He turned the flashlight to its brightest setting, and the breath promptly left his lungs.

The woman from the teashop made eye contact with him immediately, just like last time, but now her bruised, swollen eyes showed despair instead of quiet confidence.

“…Run,” she choked, her voice barely coming out. Levi could see the extent to which she’d been beaten – no, tortured – even through the water and dim light. Her plea almost failed to register.

“Dammit. All of you, grab the survivors and head back!”

“-evi… no… run, now,” she begged again, and this time Levi fully understood the urgency in her tone. The entire corridor was slowly becoming brighter. Squinting, the Captain realized with utter horror what the source was – the bulbs on the ceiling weren’t light bulbs. They were concealed grenades. And they were all exploding.

“Move OUT!” he barked, just as the sound of the explosions caught up with the light. Levi threw the girl over his shoulder, momentarily unable to care about the state of her injuries, and ran back along with his comrades. A string of curses left their mouths when the corridor boomed, almost throwing them up into the air from the force of the sound alone – there was no way they’d make it in time.

The last grenade exploded, and everything turned white.

“Good call, Reiner,” Hange breathed, slumping against the carcass of the Armored Titan. Reiner simply nodded, not having the energy for anything else – protecting everyone from the explosion without bursting through the ceiling with his titan form had momentarily winded him.

“Oi! Are you alright in there? There was an earthquake in the entire capital!”

That was Magath’s voice, and it was safe to say most of them had never been so happy to hear him.

Thankfully, he’d had the insight to bring a medical unit as well, which promptly began stabilizing the four survivors they’d managed to collect. No one wondered if there may have been any more – there was little point in doing so, after all. Even the foul smell had been replaced with grenade fumes.

“They knew we’d figure the trap door out,” Jean sighed, holding a pack of ice over the minor head bruise the explosion had gifted him with. “Dammit. Every enemy we face, it seems like they’re always a step ahead.”

“And yet they obviously didn’t expect Reiner to have such good control over his titan form,” Pieck countered. “I really doubt they were planning to leave all this equipment intact.”

“That may very well be so, but so far it looks like we’re going to have to learn how to use it all,” Hange mused, feeling a rifle up. The tech support unit had, so far, confirmed her fears – this weaponry was more advanced than anything produced in Marley. Their allies from Hizuru would be of great help, but although they could measure up to the Starkans regarding their technological prowess, the two countries had very different methods and approaches. “Add to that the modifications we’ll have to make so we don’t end up being predictable… it’s going to take a lot of time and resources before we can actually use any of it.”

“Maybe not,” said Levi, surprising Hange to a degree. He’d been so quiet ever since they’d escaped the sewers – she knew something must have happened in there for the brunet to become so uncharacteristically lost in thought, and the scientist knew him well enough. She glanced his way inquisitively.

Despite his indifferent façade, the Captain’s eyes were fixating on the four survivors still receiving medical attention. The woman from the teashop in particular, though he had yet to reveal to his comrades that the small, nearly broken form currently getting bandaged from head to toe was the one who’d revealed this place to them.

“Maybe they can help with that.”

A shared look of surprise was shared amongst the group, with Magath silently snorting through his nose. “You think they’d be willing to help us?”

“Is that so far-fetched? We saved their lives, and their previous employers obviously haven’t treated them very well,” Levi said casually, arms crossed and back leaning against the wall. He then eyed his former foes pointedly. “The Starkans have been one step ahead of us all this time, and these four might be our one good chance to finally penetrate their defenses. Plus, it wouldn’t be the first time someone had a change of heart.”

Magath, Reiner, Annie and Pieck averted their eyes, the Captain’s point obviously striking a chord. Hange, however, was not entirely convinced, yet she didn’t question her dear friend’s suggestion in front of everyone else.

“One of them is conscious, sir,” a doctor came up to Levi, and the Captain turned around so fast Hange thought he would strain a muscle. He noticed that the other woman they’d rescued was sitting up against the wall, and the brunet’s shoulders minimally slumped, but he still approached her with a confident stride.

This time, Hange did dart after him.

“Don’t you think we should at least get them to a proper infirmary before asking them to join us?” she whispered aggressively, grabbing Levi’s arm. “Or maybe figure out who the hell they are in the first place?”

Levi raised a brow. “No and no. They’ll have the mental clarity to think of more reasons to refuse once they recover, and it doesn’t really matter much who they are. They’re Starkans. That’s already an advantage for us.”

“Kiyomi won’t like this at all.”

“Kiyomi should have admitted the Starkan forces were overwhelming her troops in Shiganshina before they seized control of the city. She may just have to deal with this as a small compensation, not to mention she isn’t due to visit for two months.”

Hange sighed. “Why are you so convinced about this?”

He didn’t verbally reply, but his eyes involuntarily flitted to the young girl from the teashop. Both of her arms had needed to be popped back into place, all of her fingernails and toenails were missing and there surely must have been a lot of internal damage that he couldn’t see, based on the severe bruises littering her entire body. Hange followed his gaze and drew in a sharp breath.

“…Is that her?”

Levi let her draw her own conclusions and knelt in front of the conscious woman. She seemed to be about his and Hange’s age, maybe a tad older, with a dark complexion, a sturdy build and the curliest black hair the Captain had ever seen. Her plump lips were dried out, with a deep cut that reached her chin and had needed stitches. It would likely leave a long scar. Levi felt a pang of sympathy – after all, he was lucky to have regained his eyesight, but the marks on his face would stay with him forever.

He opened his mouth, no doubt to very directly get to the point, yet Hange beat him to it.

“Hey there. How are you feeling?”

As always, she backed him up even when she didn’t necessarily agree with him. Levi gave the scientist a brief, but grateful look.

Dark brown eyes moved from one to the other, and the woman put in an enormous amount of effort to lift a brow. “…Like I almost died surrounded by shit.”

Levi let out a snort, and Hange shook her head, rubbed the bridge of her nose and rose to her feet. “I’ll… leave you with him. I think you’ll get along.”

She walked away, likely to inform their other comrades about what the plan of action was, which left Levi to grace the woman with a nod meant to inform her that he meant no harm.

“A long ass scar… short as all hell… oh, fuck me,” she chortled, bursting into strained laughter. Her Marleyan was a bit choppy and not at all as perfect as the teashop woman’s, but then again she didn’t seem like a proper type of person. “Don’t tell me you are who I think you are.”

“I am. And you are?”

“Anya. Anya Murphy. How the hell did y’all manage to find this place?”

Levi sighed. “With some… help.”

Anya squinted in thought for a couple of seconds, after which her face formed a grimace. “Shit. That’s what they were questioning that poor little thing for, huh.”

“They?” Levi prompted her further, to which Anya sighed, wincing at the sting of her injuries. He couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like she’d been whipped.

“I don’t know how much the doll told you, but this is where the counter-espionage unit operated. So any and all unlucky bastards who did something behind big daddy Victor’s back would be dragged here, have all information tortured out of them and then be thrown in the sewers to die. Today was supposed to be me and a few others, but they’d barely gotten started when Victor dragged her in. Beat the hell out of her, she still didn’t talk. Then he got a call and ordered everyone to leave everything and flee. That includes me,” she said, gazing left and right. “And whoever else you managed to drag out of that hellhole alive.”

“So Victor Baal works directly with his counter-espionage unit?” Levi asked, ignoring the dread settling in his stomach. Increasingly, he felt like somehow this near failure of an operation was his fault.

Anya groaned in his face. “Listen man, I ain’t born yesterday. I am gonna work with you, I didn’t kill my entire fucking squad because I love Baal or his cocksucking Jaegerists. But for fuck’s sake, let me breathe, will you?”

In Levi’s book, that was a by-the-book success. Only when he agreed and rose to his feet did he notice the entirety of his former squad staring, with equally stupefied expressions.

Well, except Mikasa. She was more amused than Levi had ever seen her – at least since Eren died.

“Fuck are y’all looking at?”

“N-Nothing,” they stuttered collectively, reverting to their brat persona (as Levi liked to call it in the safety of his own mind) and scampered away. If the Captain was amused, he didn’t let it show – he’d never once reacted to anyone talking shit in his face, yet the brats still had the impression he would wreak havoc on the realm if such thing happened. It was funnier than it should be.

“Adam has agreed as well,” Hange appeared by his side.

“Who the fuck is Adam?”

The scientist gestured towards the older of the two men they’d rescued. He’d apparently gone right back to taking a nap after speaking with Hange, which was understandable considering the massive concussion he must have had, as well as his age. He looked well into his fifties, if not early sixties.

“Adam Tesla. He worked as a military engineer for the Starkans. He wanted to retire, but then realized that his wife had died without him being notified, and his two daughters were sold on the black market – he’d thought that producing weapons for the military would offer his family protection from Baal’s regime, but the army had conveniently ‘forgotten’. So he hacked all of their systems trying to find his daughters’ location, and ended up here.”

“You got all that from him in such a short time?” Levi asked in mild surprise, masking the sheer disgust the man’s life story evoked in him. For a nation that justified its ambition for dominance through a supposed spread of ‘modernity and civilization’, that sounded awfully primitive.

“You have your talents, I have mine,” Hange nudged him, her face turning serious after only a second of playfulness. “We should really head back now and let the tech team relocate all this equipment. I’ll take care of the other boy when he wakes up and you can talk to your spy.”

Levi sighed. “Right.”

Levi instantly knew the girl was awake, since she announced it by breaking into a very violent, rattling coughing fit. He tried not to wince – based on the medical report, she had several broken ribs. Breathing must have been painful as shit, let alone coughing.

Predictably, she keened in pain, gasping for air. The Captain rose from his chair and approached her bed, grabbing the glass of water from the nightstand. He pulled her up into a sitting position and went to make her drink immediately, but he was left blinking in stupefaction when she spat the liquid in his face.

Levi sighed.

“I’m not poisoning you. You need to drink water so you’ll stop coughing.”

At the sound of his voice, the girl opened her E/C eyes. They were bloodshot and squinting, yet he could tell that recognition hit instantly. She accepted the water this time, her features contorting in discomfort as she swallowed, and took a heaving breath while Levi carefully rested her head against the cushioned headboard.

“…Sorry,” she said hoarsely, watching him wipe the liquid off his face with a napkin. The Captain was a bit taken aback by the fact that she decided to speak Eldian, but somehow that made him involuntarily release some of the tension in his shoulders. It had been so long, after all, and even the former Scouts had taken to speaking Marleyan nearly 24/7 since it had become the norm.

“Don’t sweat it. I should have expected it.”

She hummed noncommittally, flinching as she tried to adjust her position in order to face him better. He couldn’t quite pinpoint the expression on her face, perhaps because almost half of it was bandaged, but it was something akin to deep regret – a stark contrast to the fake, but bubbly smile she’d greeted him with in the teashop.

“Did you all… make it?”

“Yes. And three other survivors we managed to rescue.”

“I see…Thank you,” the girl muttered, averting her gaze. “You didn’t have to… but I’m glad you’re all safe.”

Her Eldian was as perfect as her Marleyan, he couldn’t help but notice, but then again Levi figured he shouldn’t be so surprised – she was a spy.

“What’s your real name?” he changed the subject. He got the feeling that she required a much more delicate approach than Anya, so the Captain tried not to comment on matters which could very easily upset her further. It was plain to see – whatever had been done to her had left her in pieces.

“F/N L/N.”

Silence reigned for a while. Levi’s initial plan had been to make sure all four agreed to join their cause first and then deal with whatever happened afterwards – and yet, ever since he’d locked eyes with her in the sewers, there was a gnawing feeling in his chest that bothered him no end. No doubt, it would continue to eat at him until he received an answer, so the Captain decided to just throw it out into the open.

However, F/N spoke sooner than him.

“There is something you want, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and Levi realized she’d been studying his features. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll give you all the information I have.”

He sighed. “Before I get into any of that, I want to know one thing. How did the Starkans find out about what you did?”

His gut instinct had been right – F/N’s wistful expression turned into complete heartbreak. She closed her eyes and heaved a deep, yet uneven breath. Levi couldn’t take it back, however, so he simply waited for her to reply.

“I wasn’t sure at first… I planned every little thing and I was so, so careful. But I think I messed it up at the end,” she spoke, gazing into his eyes with a fragile inquisitiveness. “I should have kept you nearby until you were completely out of range. You said something through radio station after I left, didn’t you?”

Levi’s eyes widened minimally. He offered no reply, but he was beginning to understand the crucial error that had been made. That reaction was all the confirmation F/N required anyway.

“There were signal interceptors installed throughout the shop. I assume that your team employs codification, but it would only take the Starkan tech units a few hours to decipher it at most. I’m so sorry,” she shook her head, visibly ridden with guilt. “Your comrades almost died because of me – and for nothing. I guess Victor managed to blow up the base too.”

“…Shit,” was all Levi managed to say, his form hunching in the chair, forehead leaning into both of his hands. A wave of remorse and frustration washed over him – he hadn’t taken her seriously enough. He’d been approached by so many frauds in the past months, but that wasn’t an excuse. He’d allowed his mind to wander during their exchange, thinking of possibilities and motives, yet not safety. Only the contents of the note itself had revealed the actual significance of the risks this girl had taken, and then Levi had been too focused on acting upon the chance he’d been given to consider the danger of compromising her.

His gaze roamed her up and down, this time taking everything in. Joey, the other boy, had been lucky enough to get out of there with no injuries, and the other two had patterned, methodically attained wounds – whipping, stabbing injuries. F/N had been treated with no such methods – Levi had seen plenty of wounds before. He could reconstruct the entire incident if he put his mind to it: they’d started by ripping her nails off. Then they’d broken her arms. Then, in sheer anger and impatience, followed ruthless, aimless beating.

She’d trusted him with important information and that’s what she’d received in return.

“…The base and all of the equipment stayed intact,” Levi voiced. That seemed to snap her out of her haze, for F/N blinked in mild surprise.

“Oh.”

“The tech and engineering units have already begun their work on the equipment. We’re converting the establishment into a base of our own. All Marleyan employees in charge of water filtering are going through security checks. We managed to save three people who would have otherwise been dead and forgotten in filth. All of that is thanks to you. You have no reason to blame yourself for what happened.”

F/N stared, tears welling up in her eyes at his words. She wanted to say something, but her throat was too tight. Instead, she blinked the moisture away from her eyes and offered a small nod. Levi rose from his seat, fully intending to leave at this point – after all, it was the middle of the night and he needed to process this information so he could be functional once sunrise rolled along.

“Levi?”

He turned around.

“You really are a gentle man.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot levi #aot x reader #captain levi #captain levi x reader #snk levi #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #attack on titan

[rahimaldemir]

How many runners does the Tower have?

One of the first dialogue options in the game is with Salma Togan where she explains why Crane is being referred to as ‘31,’ but after the dialogue has ended and you begin to walk away from her, she adds an extra “Thirty-one infected and only seven runners left...”

This means, after Amir’s death at the beginning of the game, the Tower has seven runners. And we know Amir was a runner because during the same dialogue, Salma mentions “one more runner gone,” very strongly implying Amir - the only person we’ve seen die so far - was the runner that was lost.

During the second story mission, First Assignment, Crane sets up traps for Brecken and his team to utilize during a night run. That team consisted of Brecken and three other runners and the run was the one seen in the Run Boy Run cinematic trailer. All three of these other runners die.

This leaves the Tower with four runners before the addition of Crane:

1. Brecken 2. Jade 3. Timur - who we know is a runner due to the fact that the subtitles refer to him as ‘Runner’ in the cutscene in between Airdrop and Pact with Rais.

There are a few options for the fourth runner:

4. Rahim - I usually put Rahim in this slot because I fully believe he’s a runner, but let’s say he’s not one or isn’t listed as one because he’s stuck manning the radios and helping Alfie with things around the Tower.

Or 4. Ayo - Ayo is another option for this position. He oversees the runners, scouts, and guards of the Tower and works somewhat as a dispatch for them. He can be found on a radio giving orders during the mission Prodigal Son when Crane goes to ask him about Kristov’s whereabouts. Ayo also is present during the same cutscene between Airdrop and Pact with Rais with Timur, implying his importance during making decisions concerning runners.

EDIT 01/07/19: @insanedestiny09 kindly pointed out that Volcan is the fourth runner. He can be found in one of the safe zones outside the Tower as one of the agility challeges, and when Crane speaks him he says:

“It drives me nuts that people consider you the best runner in the Tower. It’s always been me! Volcan!”

Obviously making him one of the Tower’s runners.

Conclusion?

During most of Dying Light, after the addition of Crane, the Tower has a whopping grand total of five runners.

(Kristov was the sixth runner, but he only ran one mission before giving it up to make weapons with his father, Alexei, at the Tower after Prodigal Son.)

#dying light #dying light game #kyle crane #jade aldemir #harris brecken #rahiim aldemir #timur #ayo #kristov #alexei #salma togan #prodigal son #first assignment #airdrop #pact with rais #aldemir siblings #world building #stills #mod post #mod speaks

[lycosa83]

Posthumous review of “The Order”

Show: The Order

Genre: Supernatural Drama

Network: Netflix Original

Premiered: March 7, 2019

From Buffy the Vampire Slayer down through The Vampire Diaries and the host of its descendants, few television genres can claim the same degree of bloated over-extension as the tangled web of productions known collectively as "the paranormal drama." Whether we’re talking vampires or werewolves, ghosts or witches, or all of the above, you can’t throw a stone anywhere in TV Land without hitting someone baring fangs or weaving a magical incantation while tenaciously necking with a gorgeous co-star in between P.E. and Chemistry 101. Netflix, of course, had long ago planted its bi-colored flag atop this mound of fecund dollar returns, with The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina and Stranger Things but the more circulated shows in this genre falling under its established corporate stamp. And into this nexus of internet savvy, media business, and supernatural fantasy they toss yet another original series: The Order, created by Dennis Heaton, which premiered on March 7th and aims for a slice of the lucrative paranormal pie with an attractive cast and a little twist on the supernatural drama which adds some pop to its wardrobe. Okay, so I’m a little late to the party — as in, nearly a month late — and I'm sure everyone who’d been hellbent on watching it had probably binged it the very weekend it came out.  But to the one or two of you out there who missed the memo, or have been buried under Netflix recommends for the past several fortnights, if you’ve missed this little morsel in your lists, it may be worth taking up now and giving the old college look-see.

Synopsis

We're introduced to Jack Morton (Jake Manley), a baby-faced freshman who's “fresh” in every sense, standing over his mother’s grave while he reads aloud a letter fulfilling his apparent lifelong ambition of getting into the illustrious Belgrave University, a school with old money rules and more than a few dark secrets. But for Jack and his maternal grandfather (Matt Frewer), his acceptance isn’t a cue to start a four-year binge of parties and student life. They are men on one peculiar mission: enter Belgrave, infiltrate a secret and powerful fraternal society centered in the campus known as "the Order," and find a way to strike at its mysterious leader Edward Coventry (Max Martini), who also happens to be Jack’s biological father and the supposed nefarious scoundrel behind his mother's demise. But there’s more afoot than mere skulduggery from an oligarchic secret society; the Order hides a darkly magical secret, and as Jack falls deeper into a web of supernatural intrigue, he gets locked in a paranormal conflict way outside what he signed up for.

The Good

The best thing The Order has going for it is a delightful and irreverent sense of humor. Unlike the flood of supernatural series spilling over Netflix and other stations’ time slots, The Order approaches the supernatural with a casual air and a delightful sense of whimsy that somehow avoids reducing or trivializing its inherent danger. Jack doesn’t stumble into the paranormal ring as a hopelessly naive newcomer; though the world of magic and werewolves slips a teensy bit outside his grandfather’s preparations, Jack takes it, if not quite in stride, than with a great deal more grace and wit than the average schmoe. I know “likeable” is about as bland and nondescript a compliment as you can make of a character these days, but the glove definitely fits, and watching him bumble his way through college is more joy than irritation thanks in no small part to Manley's effortless charisma. Jack's misadventures merely sets the beat to this deliciously off-key drummer, where the supernatural gets introduced and incorporated with all the flare and gravitas of a dorm inspection, and several tense moments defuse on a cheeky quip or turn of the phrase. Rather than grounds for pulling my hair out, these moments of lightness add flavor to the broth, like the comically PC tour of the modern college campus where freshmen receive both a rape whistle, and a “how not to rape” pamphlet. The show knows not to take itself too seriously, and yet avoids falling into the trap of (overt) self-aware pastiche like the million or so similar series gunking up the airwaves and interwebs. In that happy medium, The Order finds a contrasting voice to the myriad of dark, paranormal, Grimmified fairy tales littering the market.

The Bad

Unfortunately, this lighter shade does come with a few bad palettes. For one, there’s the all-encompassing cheese factor to consider whenever anything like this series pops up. The dialogue, while whimsical and pleasant most of the time, can veer into the obnoxious on occasion. This mainly comes to the fore with Jack’s awkward and janky “romantic” slog with Alyssa Drake, a fellow Belgrave student, campus tour guide, and his eventual superior once he joins the Order, who's played by the generally charming Sasha Grey. Their dynamic fells forced and stiff, like two neophyte thespians reading their lines and the implied emotion thereof on each others’ foreheads. I know they’re supposed to be in college, and trust me, I remember just how little the maturity level of an inbound freshman can differ from the high school knuckleheads they evolve from. But their chemistry sizzles with all the pop of a damp towel, and as entertaining as they are separately, they looked the polar opposite of dazzling at every turn of their screen time together. Thankfully, this little gaffe remains the only stink I’m willing to point out. Adjusting your expectations for this series (it is a paranormal teen drama/thriller, after all) means letting go a bit of the critical scalpel and suspending any comparisons to genre titans and path breakers, like the aforementioned Buffy or The Vampire Diaries.

The Ugly

Good lord, you may as well call this show Your Mileage May Vary: the Series. Though The Order is low-key and innocuous enough to escape the type of hard-nosed scrutiny that leads fans along divisive extremes, so much of its content can be a hit or miss for practically everyone. Is Jack a funny, enjoyable main lead, or an irritating, bland, cookie-cutter protagonist; does the mystery of the plot invite intrigue and speculation, or is it a snooze fest out of place with the rest of the story?  The fact that it doesn’t take itself as seriously as other shows of its kind, while a supreme strength in my eyes, may invite legitimate accusations of derailment due to breaking the atmosphere and heaping piles of cheese atop it. Seriously, there’s something for everyone to love or hate in equal measure, with only your mood to decide which way the windsock blows at any given moment.

To Bing or Not to Binge

Knock yourself out and Binge to your heart’s content.  Yes, the show’s derivative, and yes, it's a hot ticket to Cheesyville at its very worst, but that’s as close to a nadir as you’ll likely get. There’s no ground to break here or new paradigms a-shifting; just good, old fashioned comedy-drama, with a refreshingly irreverent eye on the paranormal. Speaking as someone a little miffed by the borderline apocalyptic tone so many of these series flash like a Boy Scout badge, I find it The Order's fresh humor and fresher protagonists must welcomed divergence.

#the order #review #shows #netflix #original #supernatural #werewolves #witches

[yoon-kooks]

Pink Cheek Syndrome- pt.1

Pairing: Jimin x Reader 

Genre: angst, fluff, implied smut 

Word count: 6k 

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Summary: As a wedding photographer, you profited more from the reckless decisions made by those blinded by the mere idea of love than from those who had actually found it. As a romance novelist, he profited more from the romanticized expectations of love than from the actual reality of it. And although you were a self-proclaimed aromantic, there was something very appealing about the romantic boy with a notebook who had unintentionally crashed your photoshoot on that chilly winter morning. 

Pink Cheek Syndrome (n.) a phenomenon that occurs when a couple gets married without being in love, to the point where blushing cheeks must be photoshopped into their wedding photos in order to hide this reality.

A/N: i hope you guys enjoy this new series! 🙈🙈🙈💖

Click. An arm around her waist. Click. Giggles and teasing. Click. Lopsided smiles to hide the nerves. Click. And a look into each other’s eyes with a more natural smile that followed. Click. After your final pre-wedding shot of the morning, you gave the couple a thumbs up and jogged up to them with your DSLR to give them a quick peek at some of the photos.

“Ooh, I like that one!”

“Isn’t it pretty with the sun in the background?”

“This one’s definitely my fav—wait, Babe! Why is your face like that?”

“So cute!”

You did your best to drown out the baby talk between Seokjin and his soon-to-be wife, but their voices only went octaves higher with each word they spoke. You’d think that after a few years in the business, you’d have already grown immune to the coos of lovers. But alas, you still couldn’t stop yourself from cringing. And to make things worse, your partner had the day off, so you’d have to endure it all on your own.

“We have to go get ready for the ceremony now. See you there, Y/N!” the bright-eyed bride waved at you as she and Seokjin headed in the direction of the dressing room, hand in hand.

As soon as they were out of sight, you dragged yourself back to work. In the two hours you had until the ceremony began, you’d scout out the venue and take a bunch of pictures of the scenery before the guests arrived. You groaned as you unfolded your tripod, not because you disliked your job, but rather because you knew to anticipate the same old love story that, in your opinion, didn’t carry as much weight as a wedding should. In other words, you had become numb to the idea of marriage and true love.

That being said, there was always something refreshing about an empty outdoor venue, and this one was no different. Was it the pink flower arrangements that accented the long walk down the aisle, or perhaps the birds chirping into the cool and crisp winter air? Or maybe it was the emptiness itself.

You snapped a bunch of close-ups and medium shots before backing up to get a long shot of the entire scene as a whole. As you looked through your camera’s viewfinder, you caught a glimpse of a blonde boy sitting off to the side, under the tree with the chirping birds. You zoomed in closer, using your camera as a telescope. He was dressed in a clean black suit and tie, probably around your age. And he was too busy writing something in his notebook to notice your lens pointed in his direction.

Lowering your camera, you slowly approached the boy to shoo him away while you continued to take pictures of the supposedly empty venue. You had a job to do, and you certainly did not appreciate this kid making a cameo in all your photos.

“If you’re here for Kim Seokjin’s wedding, you’ll probably wanna go grab coffee or something because the ceremony doesn’t start for another two hours, you know.” You waited until the boy turned to you before snapping a picture of his face. For evidence, and perhaps for science, as it didn’t seem possible to have both mochi cheeks and a sharp jawline at the same time.

“Aren’t you early as well?” He clicked his pen and closed his notebook, getting up and hopefully out of your way.

“Yeah, but as the photographer, I’m supposed to be here early to take pictures of the venue.” You lifted your camera in case the boy hadn’t already noticed it from when the shutter went off in his face. His eyes focused on the cute little bunny charm that hung from the camera’s base.

“Are you the photographer Jungkook recommended?”

“Yep, I’m his kind partner who gave his lucky ass the day off for his friend’s wedding.” You gently stroked the bunny charm Jungkook had bought for you. “Are you a friend of his too?”

The boy nodded and extended a hand out to you, “I’m Jimin.”

You hesitated for a moment. Your first instinct was to not shake his hand, as you were still a little mad he had intruded on your empty venue shoot. Your second instinct, the one you ended up following, was to take his hand since he was one of Jungkook’s friends, “I’m Y/N.”

His hand was surprisingly warm for such a chilly morning. And you would’ve left your hand in his, but you couldn’t help but notice the notebook in his other hand.

“Were you drawing something earlier?”

“Hm?” Jimin’s eyes widened until you pointed at his notebook. “Oh, I was just doing stuff for work.”

“You’re working even on your friend’s wedding day?” you asked, wondering if you were too generous in offering to give Jungkook the day off from helping you shoot.

“Yeah, but this is a nice and peaceful place to gather my thoughts, especially before everyone else arrives.” He looked around the venue with bright eyes. “And it’s not everyday that we get to spend time in this type of romantic setting.”

“That makes one of us,” you sighed at your inevitable fate as a wedding photographer. “Wait, what kind of work do you do that makes this place worth working in? Because I can’t relate.”

Just then, you felt a thud against your back accompanied by a shriek. A pair of hands held you in place at the hips, preventing you from turning around to see behind you. “Kookie, I know that’s you.”

“Aww, Y/N you’re no fun…” Jungkook released his grip on you, only to sling his arm over your shoulders and looked at the other boy. “Since when did the two of you know each other?”

“Since about a minute ago, before you showed up.” You finally turned to your friend who was surprisingly well put together compared to when he’d attend a wedding as the photographer. His soft brown hair was gelled back just enough to reveal his cute forehead, and he even wore the fruity cologne you had given him despite him saying he’d never use it. “And why’re you here so early when you have the day off?”

“Hiding from my date,” he said in a quiet voice, choosing to look towards Jimin than at you.

“Why do you need to hide…? Wait! You have a date?” You shoved Jungkook, beyond shocked and a tad bit offended. “Why didn’t you tell me!”

“I would’ve just asked you to come with me, but you already agreed to be the photographer.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “And besides, Hobi took the time to set me up with this girl, so I didn’t really have a choice…”

“Okay, but why are you hiding from her?”

“She’s too pretty…” Jungkook whined. “And I’m kind of scared of her…”

“If she bothers you so much, why didn’t you just come without a date? What’s wrong with being dateless?” You crossed your arms, not willing to give your friend any sympathy over the fact that his date was too pretty.

Jungkook didn’t answer, and instead looked to Jimin for help. The older boy, still trying to make sense of everything, gave a simple response, “Who’s he gonna dance with if he has no date?”

You glared at Jimin for not being on your side of the argument, but before you could say something back, Jungkook jumped off your shoulder from the sound of his ringtone. Once he checked the caller ID, he groaned and regretfully waved bye before heading out to pick up his date.

Once again, you found yourself alone with Jimin, still unsure as to whether he was an enemy or an ally. With a quick interrogation, maybe you’d figure it out. You raised an eyebrow, “So where’s your date?”

“I don’t have one,” he chuckled. “Like you said, what’s wrong with being dateless?”

“Who’re you gonna dance with then?” you quoted him, too surprised to formulate your own sentences. After Jungkook had made a big deal about having a date, you just assumed all his other friends had dates as well. Moreover, the boy in front of you was definitely handsome enough to find a date with ease, so you wondered exactly why he had opted to come alone.

“I’m more of an observer than a dancer, so I’ll probably just watch Jungkook make a fool of himself on the dance floor from the comfort of my seat,” Jimin explained, although his fit body said otherwise. In your professional opinion, he had the perfect physique of a dancer—his upright posture, slim figure, thicc thighs, and not the mention the abs you imagined him hiding under his suit. It was a pity that he wasn’t a dancer or even a stripper, you thought to yourself. But maybe he’d still be able to put his nice body to use, even if it wasn’t on the dance floor.

You checked your watch to make sure you were still good on time before proposing something to the boy, “You know, I was about to kick you out of here so I could take some photos in peace… But! Would you like to be my model for today?” Otherwise, you really would have to kick him out, and you weren’t quite ready to do so yet.

“Me? A model? I mean I know I’m good-looking and all, but-”

“You don’t really have to pose that much. I just wanna take my usual pics of the empty venue, and then take the same exact pics again, only with you in them.” You looked at the boy who would certainly add a significant amount of beauty to your shots. Of course, you wouldn’t use these shots as a part of Seokjin’s wedding photo collection, but the artist in you wanted to be selfish. “I think it’d be a neat and chilling concept.”

Jimin looked at you, whose eyes reflected a genuine spark of inspiration, and then down at his notebook of work and supposed responsibilities. “I suppose I have some time to kill.”

-

“Hide behind one of the vases and peek out from behind the flowers.” You directed the blonde boy towards the huge white vase propped up on a five-foot stand. “And make a mischievous face towards the camera.”

Jimin did as he was told, although his “mischievous face” looked dorkier than anything. Still, you took the pictures while holding in your laughter, thankful your tripod was there to keep your camera from shaking with your body. As a bonus, you zoomed in close to his face to secure a new meme background for your phone.

“Are you making fun of me?” he called out to you, while at the same time still trying to maintain that same facial expression. You had to admit he was kind of cute.

“Of course not. That would be unprofessional~” You let a giggle slip as you gave him the okay sign.

And after about an hour of taking photos, you finally had Jimin sit on the step just before the altar. He held a white gardenia bouquet while staring out into the distance with a thoughtful yet captivating expression. The sunlight reflecting off his cheeks revealed a soft flush of pink that drew your eyes up to his. You watched as he blinked slowly with each breath. The cute puffiness around his eyes made him appear innocent and youthful. And yet, his killer gaze gave him a mature and mysterious aura that was certainly luring you in, whether you were aware of it or not.

Click, click, click. Even after you hit the shutter button, he remained in the same pose and so did you. Slowly you backed out of the camera’s viewfinder, and instead admired the boy through the unfiltered lens of your own eyes. It was only a few silent seconds later that he looked back at you, wondering if the photoshoot was over. And it was.

The end of the shoot only brought you back into reality where guests were beginning to arrive. Moving your tripod and equipment out of the way of others, you took just a moment to glance back towards the altar, although Jimin had already disappeared amongst the growing crowd.

Without even checking the last few photos you captured, you shook the image of Jimin’s killer gaze from your mind and continued on with your job.

You snapped your usual round of photos: guests taking their seats, family members catching up with one another, and friends gossiping. As you went around, you found Jungkook’s circle of friends, conveniently all with beautiful dates—except Jimin, although that didn’t seem to bother him much by the way he smiled and laughed with his friends. Sitting next to the very happy Jimin, was the awkward Jungkook who refused to even look at his date when he spoke. You felt bad for the girl, who only smiled softly and was too polite to ask Jungkook for more attention. If it were you sitting next to him, he’d certainly feel more at ease. But that wasn’t the case.

Though on the job, you discreetly whipped out your phone and sent the boy a quick text of encouragement.

11:54AM Y/N👯 “wtf kook at least talk to your date lmao”

You watched as the boy felt the vibration of his phone, almost relieved to be occupied by something other than the girl next to him. After reading your message, Jungkook looked around until he spotted you and didn’t hesitate to give you the finger.

11:55AM Y/N👯 “whats the point of having a date if youre not gonna talk to her -_-”

11:56AM kookie🐰 “im trying my best ok!!! leave me alone”

You looked back up from your phone and aggressively motioned for him to interact with his date. He mouthed profanity at you as the older boy occasionally looked up from his notebook to observe all the bickering. When you caught Jimin’s eye, you mouthed the words, “Take care of Kookie,” to him, and he gave you a thumbs up.

-

The ceremony itself wasn’t too bad to shoot without the aid of Jungkook. You swiftly moved from place to place to capture the walk, the vows, the rings, and the tears all from the best angles. And just when the couple said their I do’s, the wind was subtle enough to create a beautiful rippling effect in the bride’s gown and veil, thus the kiss at the altar was a soft, yet striking scene. That being said, not even that would be the most impactful shot of the day.

Immediately following the celebration of sealing the couple’s fate as husband and wife, everyone moved onto the reception, which in your experience, you always preferred more than the ceremony itself. It was a time where everyone would get drunk and loosen up rather than remain romantic snobs. The pictures you would take there didn’t need to evoke a certain amount of “love” or “foreverness”. You didn’t need to rely on your subjects to look or feel a certain way. You could produce high quality photos regardless of the situation. You had all the liberties of an artist. All you needed to do was capture the moment in front of you. Point and shoot.

When you finally had a moment to take a break, you looked for Jungkook just as you’d normally do if he were there as your partnered photographer. It took a while, but your eye caught a totally not sober boy with his head leaned over the back of his chair and his wrist pressed against his exposed forehead. Next to him again was not his date—in fact you had no idea where the fuck she had gone (you wouldn’t have been surprised nor mad if she left Jungkook to find a someone with more balls)—but rather, Jimin texting away, not even giving two shits about his drunk friend.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.” You peeled Jungkook’s arm away from his face and gently pressed your own hand against his rosy cheek. The boy looked at you with heavy eyelids and giggled. “I told you not to drink too much. We have to edit a bunch of these wedding pics tomorrow morning, you know.”

“I’m fine, Y/N, I’m fine~~~ And I talked to what’s-her-name… she’s waaaay prettier than you, hehe… nice gurrrrrl…” he slurred before closing his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Kookie…” you mumbled, although you did feel a little bad at how wasted he was. Your fingers continued to stroke his face as you took the empty seat next to him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him,” the boy on the other side of Jungkook spoke.

“Really? Because last time I checked, your eyes were on your phone,” you said, wondering if it was because he had no date or a sober Jungkook to talk to. You turned your camera back on and showed the boy the most recent photo you had taken, which was of Jimin laser-focused on his phone with a tipsy Jungkook in the background. “And I have receipts.”

Jimin smiled at the candid pic of him and his friend. He had such a charming smile, it was almost contagious. “Can I see what other pics you’ve taken?” He was fascinated by your work, your art.

So you showed him—nearly everything on your camera, in fact. As you scrolled, the boy didn’t say too much, but his wide eyes and duck lips said it all. He too was captivated by the breezy kiss scene, and by everything else you had taken. And it wasn’t until you reached his special photoshoot that you realized your break was over. But just for a second, the two of you admired that one photo together. That one photo of Jimin and the white gardenias.

“I’m really handsome, right?” He covered his big smile with his tiny hands, hardly trying to conceal a potential praise kink.

You didn’t give him the validation he wanted until you scrolled to the extreme close up of his meme face. “Yeah, real handsome, Jimin,” you giggled, getting up from your seat to leave.

“Y/N, wait~~~! Drink with me~” Jungkook tried to give you one of his empty wine glasses.

“I have to get back to work, Kookie. And you really shouldn’t be drinking anymore alcohol tonight.” You took the glass away from him and handed it to the other boy. “But feel free to get Jimin drunk~!”

“Ew, noo! Drunk Jimmy always cries while reciting love poems and shit. Whatta funny dude.”

You shot a smirk at Jimin. You’ve heard of emotional drunks or violent drunks, but a lovesick drunk? “Is that true?”

“They’re not love poems.” The sober boy smacked the drunk one with his notebook.

“What are they then?”

“…Lines from a romance novel.”

“Gross,” you shook your head in disappointment. Clearly the boy was not your type.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“Listen,” you pulled Jimin aside as if you were a wise old grandparent giving advice. “I know we’re at a wedding, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: love is overly romanticized in fiction. Don’t trust it.” The boy didn’t know how to respond to your cynical remark, or maybe he was just taking it all in. Regardless, you had won the argument, and with that, you blew a devilish kiss in his direction and ran off to finish your job.

That was perhaps the last time you would’ve seen the blonde boy. Sure, you would’ve always had the option to ask Jungkook for the other boy’s number, but you expected neither Jimin or yourself to have the desire to pursue anything further. Surely it was just a one-time exchange where you’d forget the boy after a few days, just has it always had been with anyone else besides Jungkook. After all, it had been quite some time since you’d last given love a second thought.

But of course, it seemed as though the world had other plans that would inevitably eat away at your personal beliefs regarding love.

-

8:03AM Y/N👯 “kookie wake the fuck up and get your ass over here now”

8:05AM kookie🐰 “im calling in sick whoops”

8:07AM Y/N👯 “like hell you are”

8:07AM kookie🐰 “i cant get out of bed tho😪 is this what they call a hangover?”

8:08AM Y/N👯 “i gave you a day off yesterday and this is how you repay me😔”

8:10AM kookie🐰 “fine if you want me to work, you come here”

8:11AM Y/N👯 “isnt your roommate home or something? bc i dont want him bothering us😠”

8:13AM kookie🐰 “he always wakes up early and goes out for a few hours. its fine Y/N”

8:13AM Y/N👯 “ok but you owe me coffee”

You groaned while throwing a bunch of shit into your bag before heading out the door with your car keys. For as long as you’d known and worked with Jungkook, you had never been to his place before. Your house had always been the place where the two of you edited photos, as you had a spare room set up as an editing studio, whereas Jungkook only had a spare room for his roommate whom you had never even met.

When you arrived at his place, you rang the doorbell and when the boy failed to answer after exactly twenty rings, you simply opened the unlocked door and walked inside. “Kookie, are you still alive?”

“No.” You followed the whine all the way to the room in the back. Jungkook was sitting up in his bed shirtless with pointed eyebrows and wild hair, looking not nearly as hungover as he was sleepy.

You set your bag down on the carpeted floor and crawled onto his bed to touch his forehead to play along as if you actually believed he was sick, “Are you okay?”

He only grunted in response as you sat your ass in his lap and wrapped your legs around his torso. You slid your hands up his bare chest and softly kissed the nape of his neck.

“Seriously, Kookie, you’re not gonna throw up on me, right?” you whispered into his ear and looked up at him with innocent yet naughty eyes, running the tips of your fingers down the boy’s cheek to just under his chin.

He didn’t shake his head too persuasively in response to your question, but nonetheless, his hands had already lifted and tossed your shirt aside. You were quick to lock your lips with his, pushing your body on top of him. On most occasions, the two of you would actually do some work before “taking a break”, but you were sure your friend could use a little something to put him in a better mood for editing.

♡♡♡

Jungkook brought you closer to him as the two of you waited for your hearts to slow down. You peeked at him and gave him a much gentler barrage of kisses until you finally spoke, “Why were you so drunk last night?”

“To help with nerves, I guess,” he chuckled shyly. You assumed he was talking about being nervous with his date. As far as you knew, he had never dated nor went on a date before. Whether it was because he was too shy to ever make a move, or because he felt the same skepticism about love as you did, you were not sure.

“And how’d that work out for you?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I remember saying something stupid, or I might’ve accidentally confessed or something like that…”

“I can confirm that you indeed said some stupid things.”

“Well whatever I said to her, she told me to say it again when I’m sober. Then she ran off to dance with some friends…”

“That doesn’t sound too promising, Kookie,” you giggled. “I’m pretty sure you fucked up.”

“Really? Because Jimin said the exact opposite. He said that meant she might be interested in me if I can get the nerve to say it to her while I’m not a drunk idiot.”

“Well, that’s where Jimin and I differ,” you kissed Jungkook again. “And besides, it’s not like you were into that girl anyway, right?”

The boy didn’t say anything for a long while, which surprised you because normally, he and you took pleasure in joking about pointless crushes. Eventually, you pulled back a little to inspect his face. His cheeks were bright pink.

“No way, Kookie!” you snickered, so amused that the shy boy was actually capable of developing feelings for someone. Well, you were amused until you realized you had probably just lost your sex buddy. “Wait, do you really like her though…?”

“I…I don’t know, Y/N…” Jungkook bit his lip. “But Jimin suggested that I should at least try…”

“Oh.” You made a face before hiding it in the boy’s chest, although you were starting to feel bothered by the fact that you still laid naked in his arms. You’d always thought Jungkook was as sick of love as you were, thus the two of you agreed upon an intimate relationship, minus the romance. But if he now wanted to pursue a real relationship with someone else, who were you to stop him? You weren’t his lover.

He massaged your back, silently gathering his thoughts. “You’d be okay with that, yeah?”

“Don’t worry about me, Kookie,” you spoke too softly, almost not wanting to be heard. You squirmed your body out of his grasp and pulled your shirt back over your head, though that was all you bothered to put on before scurrying off to the bathroom to wash up.

As soon as you closed the bathroom door, you leaned your weight against the sink, feeling a sort of emptiness. It wasn’t that you’d lost Jungkook—because you knew he’d still be your friend and partner-in-crime no matter what. You weren’t hurt in the sense that he would be choosing love over you. But it did feel as though the one boy who understood your issue with love could no longer relate. It was in that sense that you felt empty.

You sighed and pinched your cheeks, feeling a bit silly for making a big deal out of the fact that Jungkook may have a tiny crush on someone. Because for all you knew, the two of you could be back to daily sex in no time. But at the same time, the thought still lingered.

Just as you splashed your face with some water, you heard a knock at the door. You weren’t sure if it was because Jungkook was extra worried about you, or because of a delayed sick feeling from his hangover. When you opened the door, however, you realized it was neither.

With your naked ass hanging out from your shirt, you nearly walked right into some hipster boy with thick framed glasses and a grey beanie to cover the roots of his blonde hair. After staring at each other for five seconds, you identified him as your cute model boy from Seokjin’s wedding, Park Jimin. After five more seconds, you put together that he had to be Jungkook’s roommate, though you were annoyed that no one had cared enough to share that detail with you. And finally, after another five seconds, you realized the context in which the two of you were reuniting and promptly covered your chest and ass.

-

“Hey, you had perfect timing… you know, besides catching me half-naked,” you hummed, now fully-clothed and waiting in line at the coffee shop down the block from Jungkook’s and Jimin’s apartment. Upon meeting Jimin in the bathroom, you asked him to help you get away from Jungkook until you were fully back in your professional mindset. Naturally, he decided to take you out for a morning coffee run.

“Why? Did you and Jungkook get into an argument or something?” Jimin asked. Your eyes were still adjusting to seeing him in glasses and casual wear. Not because he looked like a cute little nerd, but because he just looked so different from the day before. And from a photographer’s perspective, it was more than just his appearance that had changed. For some reason, the aura he gave off felt purposely dulled, as if he were hiding part of himself from you.

“Nah, but he basically said he didn’t want to fuck me anymore,” you shrugged. “Sigh, it seems Kookie’s become another victim of love… And here I thought we were on the same page…”

“I didn’t know the two of you were-”

“Believe me when I say it was just sex. Haven’t you ever slept with a co-worker?”

“Umm, no?” Jimin chuckled. “Also, why did you call Jungkook a victim of love?”

“Because he thinks he has a crush on a girl he met a day ago,” you scoffed. “Bullshit, right?”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do, Mr. Romantic,” you rolled your eyes. The more you got to know Jimin, the more he annoyed you, while at the same time, intrigued you. “But for your information, love is rarely as cute as you’d like it to be.”

“Really?” Jimin challenged you. “Please enlighten me.”

“Love is shitty. Marriage is shitty. The romance novels you read are shitty. Facts are facts, Jimin. Consider yourself enlightened.”

“Well have you ever been in love?”

“Thankfully no. But as a wedding photographer, I’ve seen all the bullshit first-hand.”

“Like what?”

“Like people reciting their totally genuine vows to the supposed love of their life, only to get a divorce a year later.”

“What about all the married couples who’ve made it past their 50th anniversary?”

“What about Kim Kardashian who got married for like half a second before signing divorce papers?”

“Yeah, but she’s happily married now.”

“To Kanye fucking West. Not to mention they have a kid named North West. How happy can the woman actually be?” you were only half-joking. “Just because they aren’t divorced, doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking about it. And that goes for everyone, not just the reality stars who profit from it.”

“Okay, okay, stop roasting them and just get to the point already,” Jimin laughed. He even found your condescending nature charming.

“My point is that after being a witness to more failed marriages than successful ones, I realized love is a lot shittier than how we’d like to imagine it.” You jabbed your finger into Jimin’s heart. “And we can thank romance writers for setting our expectations way too fucking high.”

“You’re welcome.” Jimin nonchalantly took your hand and shook it, and before you could ask him what the fuck that was for, he was already ordering three coffees at the counter. As he was busy engaging with the cashier, you just stood there frowning in confusion.

Even while the two of you waited for your coffees to be made, you refused to say a word to him. The wheels in your brain were spinning…

He always carries around a notebook and called the wedding a romantic place to work in. He apparently spouts out bullshit from romance novels when he’s drunk. He got pretty defensive when you criticized love and romance. He was a fucking romantic if you ever saw one. He said “you’re welcome” when you thanked romance writers for making love unachievable. And then it finally hit you.

“You write fanfic?” you blurted out as you and Jimin exited the shop with your tray of coffees. Your handy detective skills made you feel like Bella exposing Edward as a fucking vampire.

“What? No! I don’t write fanfic!” He seemed offended by your assumption, but you doubted he’d never written fanfiction at some point in his life.

“But you’re a writer?”

“…Yeah,” he whispered.

“Holy fucking shi-”

“Shh! Don’t let the whole fucking world know!” He placed a chubby finger on your lips, and you were lowkey tempted to bite it and see what would happen.

“Why not? Are you secretly Nicholas Sparks or something?” You waited for an answer, but Jimin merely rolled his eyes and pushed you back into his apartment before saying anything more about his job as a writer.

After closing the door and setting the tray of coffees down on the counter, he finally answered your burning question, “I’m not Nicholas Sparks.”

“Oh wow, thank you so much for clearing that one up, Jimin,” you spoke in obvious sarcasm. “So what’s your penname if you aren’t Mr. Sparks?”

Jimin just looked at you for a moment and you blinked back with eyes of curiosity. “That’s classified information, Y/N. I’ve never told anyone my penname. Not even Jungkook.”

“Hmm, interesting… I bet you write kinky shit like Fifty Shades. Or perhaps zombie erotica?” You inspected the boy more closely, searching for any clues to his kinks or deepest desires.

“Either way, you wouldn’t read my work since you’re so against romance novels, right?” The boy crossed his arms. “So why are you so curious?”

“One’s work can say a lot about them as a person: their personalities, their personal experiences, their beliefs, and what inspires them,” you spoke in a softer tone. “I’m curious as to what your writing style says about you. Because for a writer, you, Park Jimin, are pretty hard to read.”

“You’re not so easy to read either, Y/N,” he confessed. “In fact, your attitude in regards to love is wild, yet somewhat justified.”

“And for just $500 a month, I’ll give you as many rants on love as your heart desires,” you joked, but truthfully, hearing Jimin’s words made you feel a certain way.

“Wait. That’s a good idea.” A light bulb suddenly went off in the boy’s brain.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Jims, but my services are in high demand so I’ve raised the price to $1000 a month.”

“Tell me about why you’ve come to despise love. Let me get to know you for my research,” Jimin ignored your monthly service fee bullshit. “That way, I’ll be able to write a romance even you would enjoy.” He wanted you to be his muse.

“Will the story involve kittens? I love kittens a lot more than humans.” You crossed your arms like a difficult young child because you weren’t just going to simply give Jimin what he wanted in order to advance his career.

“Noted!” He literally pulled out his notebook and wrote the word kitten on a blank page. “So you’ll help me?”

“What’s in it for me? Besides the $1000 a month.” You stroked your imaginary thinking beard.

“I’m not paying you $1000 a month,” he giggled. “What else do you want?”

There certainly was something you wanted out of the boy, but it wasn’t a request you could ask of him without crossing some lines.

You stepped much closer to Jimin, nearly closing the gap between your body and his, before your eyes locked with his. “Well, you know, now that Kookie has a crush on someone else, I’ll be kind of lonely at night~” Your hand ran through his hair, knocking his beanie to the floor.

“You want sex…?”

You looked at him with a teeny bit of want and desire as your hand now rested against his flushed red cheek. Seconds later, however, Jimin very delicately peeled your hand away.

“I can’t give you that either…” he said.

Just as with Jungkook earlier that morning, the rejection didn’t necessarily hurt. In fact, it was a pleasant surprise that Jimin had said no. Because it meant that, to some degree, he was beginning to understand you. 

“Not bad, Park Jimin…” You smiled to yourself. “Alright, I’ll be your muse.”

Your sudden shift in moods caught the boy off-guard, although he’d kept that much to himself and instead asked another question, “You really don’t want anything in return, though?”

“Of course I want something in return!” You poked Jimin in the cheek before switching to a softer voice again. “I want you to eventually tell me your penname. That’s all.”

“Even if it’s fifty years from now?” he asked, still unsure of your fascination with his penname.

You nodded, “As long as it takes.” As long as it takes for Jimin to entrust you with his secret.

“Deal.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts angst #jimin fanfic #sfwbangtan #bts imagines #bts fluff #jimin x reader #bts #jimin #bangtan #pink cheek syndrome

[writing-yj]

Blue Beetle x Reader: Finally

Anon: 25 with jaime!!! i love fake dating aus man i need one with my blue beetle boy (that isn't ted kord lol) also love your writing it's beautiful and congrats on the followers love ❤️

25: We’re supposed to look like a couple; act like it!”

I WROTE OUT THE ENTIRE THING OUT BUT I FORGOT TO USE THE PROMPT, IS IT OKAY THAT I DIDN’T USE IT? I’M REALLY REALLY SORRY.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Nothing, really

A/n: I’ve memorized this prompt already (even though I forgot to use it, I’m so sorry bby) I’m not adding it on the next prompt list xD It’s good to know that people love Jaime! I hope you enjoy this, m’dear!

Jaime’s hand felt warm as your fingers comfortably locked together. When it came to going undercover as a couple with your best friend, there was no reason to say no. You had no shame in showing that you were romantically interested in him; you didn’t care who knew. You weren’t entirely sure if he knew, but it wouldn’t be a problem if he did.

Unlike you, he fought tooth and nail to hide his feelings from you, but from others? They knew exactly what was going on. Almost the entire team was frustrated that you two wouldn’t get together when the attraction between you was so damn obvious. Bart regularly wants to force you two to kiss, but that was quickly shot down by Robin when he heard Bart planning it.

“So, babe, where do you want to go first?” You beamed as you cheesily used the endearing term.

“I’m not sure, babe, are you feeling hungry yet?” Jaime asked, doing the same thing, and he laughed. The strong friendship you two had made the act no problem at all. Hell, people thought you were dating on the reg anyway.

You put your head on his shoulder and his heart fluttered. “Starving, believe it or not.” 

“Oh, I believe it.” Jaime cautiously kissed your forehead. This ‘fake relationship’ came almost naturally, with some hesitation here and there.

You gasped dramatically. “Are you implying that I eat too much, Jaime? I’m so wounded!”

“You inhale food almost as often as Bart, mi amor.” Jaime rolled his eyes playfully.

His use of Spanish made you quietly giggle. “...You’re not wrong.” You admitted.

“Glad to know you agree,” Jaime scouted for a good food place along the busy street, whilst you searched for the target. No such luck, for you. He pointed to a place far down the street and said, “We’re eating over there and you have no choice, their food is the best.” He then pulled you in the direction of the restaurant with determination.

You yelped at the sudden action. “Okay, I’m coming! I’ll take your word for it!”

The small restaurant had a cozy, warm feeling to it that made you feel right at home. A wave of good-smelling food hit you the moment you came in, and your stomach growled at the same time. It was obvious that it had good food, but no one made food like Jaime’s mother could.

After ordering, Jaime picked a two-person table and pulled your chair out for you. For show, he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it while making eye contact with you. The action made you smirk with a barely visible blush, and you sat down as gracefully as possible. What was an undercover game for you two, other random bystanders thought you were two teenagers in an unbreakable love.

“And you say I’m dramatic.” You teased as you propped your head up with your right hand. “I gotta admit Reyes, I’m a little flustered; you sure know how to make a girl feel special.” You sent a wink his way, and his blush made you snicker. You were having the time of your life on this mission.

“I-I do my best.” Jaime stuttered just a little bit. “You’re satisfied with it?”

“For now; I might need more later.” You chirped and thanked the waitress who brought you your drinks. After taking a few long sips, you continued. “But really, thanks for doing this Jaime. I can’t imagine what it would be like to date anyone else.” It was one hundred percent true, whether it be going undercover as a couple or truly being one.

Jaime was internally screaming. “No problem, (Y/n); I didn’t want to waste a good opportunity.” He was nervous as heck and tried his hardest to not trip over his words.

You raised an eyebrow and smirked. You tried to say something, but it came out as an embarrassing but love-struck giggle, and it made Jaime choke on his lemonade. He smiled, too, but not after he was done almost dying.

Bart slowly and subtly looked over the top of the newspaper he was ‘reading’ and looked at you two from a couple booths over. The plan was certainly in motion, and it was going perfectly. He heard every word, and he saw the genuine meaning behind them.

“It’s working!” Bart whispered into his comm. “They’re flirting. It’s going to happen!”

Barbara and Cass were looking through the window at a safe distance and they squealed happily. They were getting you together or someone was going to die today. “Yes, yes, yes!”

However, Bart was one of the worst whisperers in the world, and you were often renowned for your excellent hearing. While Jaime was lost in his fresh-cooked food, your head snapped over to where Bart was hiding behind a newspaper. 

Bart went pale as a sheet and he pulled the newspaper back up to completely hide his head. “I’ve been compromised! She knows.” He couldn’t just run out of there; someone would notice!

“Jaime, I’m going to the bathroom; make sure my food doesn’t get cold.” You said cheerily and he nodded. You rose from your seat casually and walked over to Bart’s booth, where Jaime wasn’t able to see.

The young speedster was quite literally shaking in his shoes when you were standing just a foot away from him. You could barely see a tuft of his red hair, but it was definitely Bart’s. You cleared your throat and inncoently asked, “Hello, uhm, sir?”

“...Yes?” Bart tried to sound masculine, but it came out as a shaky squeak. 

“May I borrow your newspaper? Just for a moment; I have to check the advice column to see if my mother’s submission was printed.”

He didn’t know if he wanted to scream or cry. “N-no, I’m reading it at the moment. It’s a really good article see, and-”

“Just give me the damn paper, Bart.” Your voice dropped to it’s normal pitch.

Bart dropped the paper and looked terrified. “I’m sorry! We were just trying to get you guys together because you guys were oblivious to see that you liked each other and neither of you are going to make a move so we wanted to help and we-” His stress over the situation came out in the speed of his talking, and he was going a mile a minute. 

“Jesus Christ, kiddo, calm down. I was going to give you a ‘thank you’ but I’d rather not add to your current and unfortunate emotional crisis; wish I could help!” 

Knowing that he wasn’t in trouble, Bart left the restaurant as soon as possible and ran at full speed to safety. That was terrifying for him; the last person who made you furious, conveniently a villain, got several bones broken.

A few moments later, you walked back over to Jaime, who was already halfway done with his meal. “It’s still warm, but I don’t think it will be for long.” He gestured to your food. “It’s really good.”

“How would you know if mine tastes good? Did you steal a bite?” You asked and narrowed your eyes.

Jaime looked up at you with a straight face. “Because we ordered the same thing, idiota.”

You put your hand on your chest and feigned a look of hurt. “Jaime! How could you say that?!” You dramatically fell back into your seat. “Were all of your loving words a lie?” It came out as a whimper as you started to solemnly eat your food.

“Why would they ever be a lie, mi amor?” Jaime reached out and grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. It was such a loving gesture that it made your heart skip a couple beats.

“We are undercover for this... You’re a pretty good actor.” This was your chance to see if he really does like you back. 

Jaime inhaled sharply. You thought it was an act, and you looked sad about it. He hated it when you were sad. “W-Well, I uhm, I-” Jaime exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding and he looked down at his food. “I... I wasn’t acting, (Y/n). I meant what I said.” He was self-conscious about it, and his face was very red. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“Jaime, I have been flirting with you for months.” You interrupted him with something he was shocked to hear. “It wasn’t always friendly banter, bug-boy. I thought at least your scarab would know that.”

He hissed to his beetle, “I thought you were wrong, shut up!”

You put your hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh. So even the Scarab knew about it, but Jaime didn’t believe it. Now that you told him, he felt like an idiot for not noticing; the first thing you said when you met him was: “Well, hello there. You’re pretty cute.”

“At least one good thing came out of this mission,” He chuckled and looked out the window. “I haven’t seen anything suspicious all day.”

You grinned. “Actually, it was just a plan to get us together; I caught Bart trying to hide and watch us. I somehow scared him into confessing without even asking.” Granted, it was a smart plan, but you felt it was just a tad unnecessary.

Jaime’s embarrassed expression turned to one of annoyance. “That little-!” He stopped as he tried to find an appropriate word to describe his wicked-fast friend. “You know what, it’s fine, I have no complaints.”

“Well I’d hope not!” You picked up the fork with the hand Jaime wasn’t holding and took a bite of your relatively warm food. “Damn, you weren’t lying; this is good.”

Jaime smiled for probably the fiftieth time that day, but then his cheeks reddened greatly. “Since we, uh... Since we both feel the same way, will-” He could barely ask his intended question.

“I’d greatly appreciate it if you became my genuine boyfriend, does that sound okay?” You asked casually after swallowing your food. “I personally think that you’d be a great significant other, seeing as how today went.”

“I-I was about to ask that, actually.” He was trying to register that you wanted to be his girlfriend.

You teased him, “You seemed to be having trouble, so I helped.” He was cute when he was nervous. Well, he always is, but especially when he’s nervous. “So is that a yes?

“Of course (Y/n), how could I say no?”

Bart ran through HQ while screeching, “They’re finally dating guys! Blue and (Y/n) are together! Officially! Our plan worked!” The OTP of the group was legit at last. No one had to go through the torture of watching two teens skirting around their obvious love for each other.

The PDA wasn’t even that bad; you and Jaime kept it to a minimum, but it wasn’t a secret that he treated you like a queen. He thought you deserved nothing less than that.

I told you to court her sooner, Jaime Reyes. 

I’M SORRY THAT I FORGOT TO USE THE PROMPT, DO YOU STILL LIKE IT THO

#jaime reyes #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes imagine #blue beetle #blue beetle imagine #blue beetle x reader #young justice #young justice imagine #young justice x reader #young justice season 2 #prompt #prompts #300 followers special

[friendshipcampaign]

Session Recap 5/20/18

As the party traveled through the tunnels, Kriv seemed to be making an okay recovery -- still incredibly weakened by the Morkoth’s attacks, but no longer suffering the effects of the cold quite so much. Erwyn, however, was a different story. The elf was still suffering the effects of hypothermia, shivering violently and only sluggishly responsive. Kriv had to wrap an arm around him tightly just to keep him from pitching forwards as they rode on top of Volfred.

This was clear to everyone, prompting Amaranth to ask Erwyn how he was doing. He gave a very weak response, so she directed her inquiry to Kriv, sho suggested maybe stopping for a bit to see if Amaranth (who, as a tiefling and someone who had not been in the water, had a much higher body temperature) would be able to warm the elf up a little.

Amaranth switched places with Kriv, hopping up on top of Volfred, and gently asked Erwyn if he would be alright with removing his cloak (which was still soaking wet). After a very long pause, he reluctantly agreed, and she took off her own coat to wrap him up in as they traveled. She also pulled out the hat that Aidther had given her to place on his head, and Kriv handed over the winter blanket to wrap around both of them. With Erwyn hopefully able to start warming up, the party started moving once again.

Voski asked Kriv how he and Erwyn had navigated through the underwater tunnels, hoping perhaps it would lend a clue about how to get close to the heart. He explained that they’d really just stumbled through it and gotten sort of lucky. Ditto suggested that to get to the heart they might want to try focusing on it while tunneling. But the time being, they just continued going forward.

Out of the corner of her eye, Voski spotted the shadowy figure of something roundish, with two visible appendages, keeping pace with the party. She tapped Amaranth on the shoulder, to warn her subtly, but the rogue’s reaction was less than subtle. As soon as the rogue responded this way, Voski got a message in her head in the unmistakable voice of the Ring of Mindshielding, asking “Would you like to receive a message from,” followed by a series of odd clicking noises.

Voski accepted the message, and in her head started to hear more clicking noises. Slowly, they morphed into Common, and she heard them say “Hello, have I gotten this right?” She replied that she could understand the creature, who then asked “Who art thou, and thy companions?”

When Voski explained that they had been sent by Auntie Eyren, the creature telepathically replied “She keeps this place. The false god was not overthrown.” Cautiously, Voski told the creature -- which had revealed itself a little more, showing the two visible appendages to be little antennae -- that she’d been under the impression that the Caftner were all dead. Sadly, the creature explained they were fairly certain that they actually were dead themself, and Voski’s comment made them want to know the fate of the island and their people.

The bard then told the creature, who introduced themself as Zikt, they should talk to Ditto. They messaged here, and got excited for a bit when she mentioned seeing other Caftner -- only to deflate when it was explained that they were in what appeared to be a graveyard. Zikt inquired about the Morkoth, then, and Ditto replied she was “pretty sure it was killed at least once.”

She turned to Kriv and Erwyn to ask them exactly what had happened with the Morkoth, and Kriv gave an explanation of what it had done to them and how they fought and, at the very least, exploded it. Erwyn added that he was fairly certain the awful creature was still around.

Ditto then told Zikt they should speak to Kriv (noting that Erwyn was also an option, but still looked far too exhausted), since he had actually fought the thing. Zikt told him that they were “grateful for [his] valiance” -- to which Krive said “I guess you could call it that.” They discussed the fact that the Morkoth might have to be fought again, and Kriv pointed out that if that happened, it would probably go for him and Erwyn first. Zikt was not comforted.

Zikt told the party about a dark power that had awakened all of them, including the Morkoth, likely, and explained they could still feel its force and might be able to lead the party to it. Voski started making bug noises to get their attention (they has still been talking to Kriv, he was just relaying the information), and asked her what kind of creature was behind this force, and Zikt told her that it might not even be one -- it just felt like a strong energy.

Meanwhile, Ditto started writing in the Tome of Mynskay about undead and what could cause them. It replied that this didn’t look like the work of a necromancer, since no one was controlling them all, but that they could also sometimes appear in areas that had seen horrific battles or cataclysms, or also places where there was a breach leading to the Negative Energy Plane. 

She shared this information with everyone else and Erwyn admitted that, largely due to the events they’d been seeing on the Material Plane, he’d actually had some suspicions about the latter idea. Ditto asked him if it could at least be a small breach, but he said he didn’t think so.

Voski asked Zikt if they knew how the Morkoth had died, and they explained that they as a former rebellion leader, had been killed by it before it was destroyed. They did know, however, that the Caftner had used their mental abilities to overwhelm its capability to shape the plane.

The party began to follow Zikt, who intended to lead them to the mysterious dark power. Though they occasionally suggested making their own tunnels, the ones they began passing through seemed like they were older, and more sophisticated, and perhaps hadn’t shifted along with the rest of the island in quite a long time. There was now water around their feet, that deepened as they traveled. Ditto hopped in Voski’s backpack. Deciding that stealth might be their friend now, Voski used the glamour on her armor to shift it from forest-like greens to dark black, with a bit of grey, making it somewhat mimic the kind they had seen on the wraiths in the Material Plane.

Eventually they reached a point where Zikt informed Ditto that the dark force was in the chamber just ahead. They offered to scout a bit for the party, saying  “the false god’s lair is just beyond” -- a room where an island rose up from shallow water in the very center, where the dark force seemed to be located.

Some of the party made moves that seemed to imply they were ready to head into the chamber, until Erwyn broke down completely, tearfully saying that he couldn’t risk facing the Morkoth again that same day. Voski pointed out that getting in there quickly, while it was maybe still recovering from what he and Kriv had done to it, might be the best way to keep it from coming back, but Erwyn continued to cry and sadly stated that “Nothing’s ever that simple.”

The others discussed their options and decided to head backwards a little to carve out a chamber where Voski could make them all a shelter by casting  Leomund’s Tiny Hut. They retreated, using the morphic property of the plane to create a zig-zag tunnel that would hopefully deter intruders, making a room at the very end. Voski seemed excited about giving it nice, high ceilings, but when Amaranth asked if she would make a chandelier to go along with them, the bard shut the idea down. The room ultimately ended up having an odd mis-match of tastefully patterned walls (Voski’s work) and excited, erratic swirls (from Ditto helping).

Zikt offered to guard the entrance while they rested, and headed towards the entrance of their tunnel. The party started to settle down, Kriv helping Erwyn off of Volfred and Ditto casting Major Image to give them, for a little while, a warm but smokeless fire. Since the flames didn’t have any more heat to them that the nice warmth radiating from it, she kept sticking her hand in it.

Kriv took off his still-wet hoodie to dry and leaned against Volfred, causing Amaranth to physically drag Erwyn over to join them. She made sure the blanket, and her arms, were draped across Kriv, herself, and Erwyn, then offered both boys some rum from her flask, saying it would really warm them up. They declined, and when Kriv told her that alcohol doesn’t actually warm you at all, she brushed it off.

Once everyone was secured in a small enough radius, Voski put up the Hut, giving them all a little light for the first time since they’d rested previously. Voski took the opportunity to add some tasteful navy and silver highlights to her armor, while Kriv finally took off the blindfold he’d been using to see, wringing it out and hoping to let it dry. 

With everyone settled in, Voski started strumming her lute, to sooth everyone as they rested. Kriv fell asleep fairly quickly, still weak and tired from the Morkoth encounter. Erwyn, though just as drained, seemed to be having trouble trying to trance though. Every time it seemed like he might be drifting off, he would begin crying again, huddling further and further into Amaranth’s side. None of the others slept, since it was really only hours after they’d awoken.

The Hut disappeared after eight hours, signaling that it was probably time to move on again. Kriv cast Aid on Amaranth, Ditto, and Erwyn again in preparation for their expedition. Both the boys, when asked how they were doing, seemed unenthusiastic. Kriv shrugged, putting his hoodie and blindfold back on. Erwyn was silent. Amaranth encouraged them by saying “We’ve faced hard things together, and we’ll face this together too” -- prompting Erwyn to quietly say that he was actually worried about them being together. When Ditto asked why, he explained how the Morkoth had tried to manipulate him and Kriv against each other. He was afraid of something similar happening again.

Ditto wrote in the Tome again before they set off, asking it if the disturbance in the demiplane was a breach to the Negative Energy Plane, what would be the way to close it. The book told her that was more planar knowledge than necromancy, and that was out of its wheelhouse. She then asked Erwyn what he knew about this sort of thing, remembering he was the party member with the greatest knowledge of portals. He admitted to not knowing much about how to close them, only that if allowed to grow, minor breaches could turn into full-fledged portals. They couldn’t know how large this particular one was. He also listed off some ways people might attempt to shut such a thing, but with no guarantee they might be successful -- consolidating things that might worsen it, or banding a group of powerful magic users together to seal it off after a while.

What he didn’t mention to the others was that these were all things he knew had been tried in Lyrium.

Kriv suggested that once they were closer to the room with the portal, Erwyn might want to try using his portal-sensing ability to try to figure out how large a breach -- or portal -- they might be dealing with. He agreed. Ditto then asked if he thought he might be able to close it using the morphic properties of the demiplane, but Erwyn replied (again speaking of his knowledge of Lyrium) that they only time he knew of it being accomplished, it had been with the power of some powerful mages -- and that he might actually have know who some of those people were, and they were incredibly powerful.

They headed back towards the chamber with the powerful force in it, Erwyn lagging behind a little with exhaustion, but once they reached the entry and Kriv shrugged at him, the elf attempted to reach out and examine the presence in the next room.

It was a sensation more like what he’d felt in the glowing farm fields outside Dayshowe, and clearly not a fully-fledged portal, but it was still stronger than the sensation at the halflings’ farm, and much less stable. And instead of that warm presence, this one was disturbing and empty, filling him with nothingness and the sensation of the blackest black imaginable. He staggered backwards, distressed by the feeling, and was only prevented from falling to the floor by Kriv, who caught him in his arms.

After this ominous display, Voski tried contacting Auntie Eyren again to ask what exactly they should try. The reply was incredibly distorted, barely even audible, but the had told her that there would be a vein of pearly rock in the center, and if it was broken they would need to collect the pieces. No more useful information was gleaned.

Water spread across the floor of the chamber they entered but massive pillars shaped after tentacles rose from its surface to the vaulted ceiling. This was clearly also the Morkoth’s lair. Kriv suggested that to get across the water, they could shape a bridge with their minds, carrying them from the entrance to the center on stone from the floor. He asked Zikt to go off by themself for a little bit so that he could look over the area with his Divine Sense (since the ghostly Caftner would register as undead). Kriv discovered that the whole area registered as incredibly unholy, with undead somewhere below and in front of them. He turned to the others and announced “This place is desecrated as shit!”

Ditto nervously cast Mage Armor on herself as Voski began to create an elegantly arched bridge in front of them, guardrails included. The wizard and paladin began to assist her, and soon they were all traveling along it. Erwyn suggested that to keep anything dangerous from following them, they could also remove the back as they went, making it more of a moving platform than a bridge as they walked along it. He also telepathically contacted Zikt, telling them they could return.

They were just able to spot the island in the middle when everything around them went black, in a way that darkvision couldn’t pierce. Only Kriv, with his blinsense scarf, was able to see anything at all. Amaranth blindly searched for someone, accidentally putting her hand over Ditto’s face until the gnome instead moved it to the top of her head. Kriv activated his Divine Sense again and sensed the same undead below them -- and the Morkoth above, smirking at him. 

He warned the others and Amaranth instantly drew her weapons. Voski tried to bring supports down from the ceiling to connect with the bridge and stabilize them, but felt a suppression of her control as they slammed back up into the ceiling. Shortly after that, Amaranth and Ditto were knocked prone as the bridge began to fall apart, guardrails completely gone. Voski tried to cast her Dancing Lights into the darkness, but it was too strong and they disappeared.

Ditto sent a Message to Kriv, saying she couldn’t see where to aim, but if Kriv would point her hand in the direction of the Morkoth, she could fire at it. As soon as she said “This is gonna make it real mad,” he protested “I don’t want to start a fight yet” and succeeded in getting her to hold off. Amaranth started searching for Erwyn, resting a hand on his shoulder when she found him. 

Voski was still struggling to move and repair their bridge and Ditto joined her in working on it. They felt significant resistance, and their progress became twisting and slower, but they pushed forward. Kriv noted the Morkoth floating lower, to around their level, and tried to use his Divine Sense once more -- revealing that the undead below them were only about 5 feet away, following, but waiting. He hesitated, then cast Turn the Unholy at all of them. There were shrieking noises and splashes in that brief moment of like, causing even the Morkoth to spin away -- and unfortunately scaring off Zikt, too.

Amaranth felt Erwyn disappear from her grip as the remaining undead all ganged up on him, a hand closing around his ankle and yanking him into the water. When she shouted his name, Voski stopped moving forward and Kriv dashed to the back of the platform. Both he and Amaranth failed to grab their friend, and she dove in after him, prompting Kriv to yell “You can’t fucking see, you shit!”

Ditto asked Kriv to toss her too, and he begrudgingly obliged. But once she was in the water, she realized that she was out of the reach of the magical darkness -- she could see! She started moving towards Erwyn and Amaranth.

Amaranth attempted to hit the skeleton dragging Erwyn under and shattered it with her swords -- though its hand remained around his ankle. Somewhat panicked, he clung to Amaranth’s shoulder.

Now alone with Kriv, Voski started to move the platform downwards and towards the water. This also brought them out of the magical darkness, which meant everyone was once again able to see. It also meant that she spotted Amaranth, who she waved to and inspired by saying “Thought you died,” but sounded legitimately pleased to see. Kriv tossed a rope down and cast Shield of Faith on Erwyn, sending a feeling running through him not unlike whenever the paladin pressed his scale relic into the elf’s hands.

Amaranth and Erwyn felt more things trying to grab them from below, prompting the rogue to try to drag him over to the rope now dangling up off the side. They reached it, and she tried to help him up, but Erwyn was still too weak and exhausted to climb it and simply hung onto the bottom. Voski tried pulling him up, but with no success, and even Kriv was only able to get him about halfway. While waiting, Amaranth felt another skeleton trying to drag her down and promptly kicked it off, only to dive under the water immediately and shatter it with her blades.

Erwyn was struggling to hold on and nearly fell back into the water, getting rope burn on his fingers as he clambered to cling to it. Seeing this, Voski shaped the wall a bit to give it some hand or footholds, and Erwyn was able to rest a boot on one of them, taking some of the stress off his arms. Before too long, Kriv was able to get him back on the platform. Amaranth also made use of the footholds, shooting up the wall and back on top. Seeing her friends were safe, Ditto flew back up to join them.

Still collapsed on the ground when another skeleton that had gotten on top of the platform began to head towards him, Erwyn pulled himself up just enough to fire two arrows at it, destroying it instantly. The others all teamed up to push the bridge as close to the island as they could before Kriv’s turning of the undead ran out, but while Erwyn at least pulled himself upright, he quietly did not assist -- he hadn’t tried any terrain-shaping yet, on account of feeling like he probably wouldn’t be able to. Curved walls around the island became visible, as well as glimmering inside and a rough rock formation with a pearly vein inside of it.

When they reached it, Kriv used his Divine Sense again, only for the desecration to be almost overpowering, the source of it located directly below them. Ditto rushed over to examine the vein of pearl while Amaranth spent a side-eyed glance on the treasure around them. Erwyn, once over with Ditto, was able to confirm that the pearly vein was not the source of the nothingness he’d felt earlier. It had to be something else. Kriv and Ditto tried shaping the ground near the vein, punching a hole through the rock on the sides and causing a horrible wail as a specter appeared from underneath it, flying straight at Ditto. She was instantly, horrifically dazed as it drained a massive amount of her life energy, leaving her feeling incredibly weak. Amaranth and Erwyn were able to destroy it (though the latter first called out to ask if it was some kind of guardian, only to hear a horrific screech in reply), but the damage had already been done.

Voski peered down into the hole, noting that there was water only about five feet below that seemed to fill a large chamber. Kriv was able to make it grow a bit more, so that there was enough room for someone to head in. 

Ditto was swaying and had to sit down, offering only a weak response when Amaranth asked if she was okay. The tiefling gestured to Kriv, indicating he should help their friend, then charged into the open hole.

In the water below, Amaranth felt a coldness that extended far beyond actual chill. Looking up, she could see she was on the underside of the vein of pearl, and could now see a large crack in it, which was shifting and almost hard to look at and had a point of blackness at its apex. As soon as she laid eyes on it, it drained some of ther life from her, causing her to shout out “Uh, yeah guys, I think I found it. It bit me!”

Erwyn followed her down only to experience the exact same sensations. He was able to tell that the broken part of the pearly vein was trying to form its own demiplane, with microportals similar to the ones they’d seen in Soreth swirling in and out of existence. The breach was the only one large enough to now have a permanent effect.

Above, Voski glanced around for something to cover one of her hands, finding a decorative gauntlet with opals set into the knuckles. She looked at Kriv, resigned, then jumped down into the hole as well. He followed her.

Soon after, there was a crackle from below, and a swirling pattern appeared. Kriv and Erwyn recognized it immediately, looking on with horror. Quickly, everyone in the water but Kriv was hypnotized, starting to swim downwards. They at least had the mind left to put in their water-breathing lozenges, but they had tentacles wrapped around them in no time. Their owner looked up at Kriv.

“Hello again,” the Morkoth said. “I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered.”

#session recap

[dailynewswebsite]

The unlikely role players that have the Lakers one win away from a return to glory

These Los Angeles Lakers won’t go down in NBA lore and even enter the pantheon of biggest single-season championship groups, regardless of their names being able to be etched on that glowing gold trophy.

It will be exhausting to see these Lakers beating the perfect of the latest Golden State Warriors, a squad with comparable historic abilities on the high however way more reliable function gamers in between. They’re not fairly a one-year marvel, just like the 2006 Miami Warmth that includes a slowing-down Shaquille O’Neal and rising Dwyane Wade, however seemingly received’t be talked about among the many nice groups we’ve seen within the final 20 years.

The explanation they closed to inside 48 minutes of restoring the franchise to anticipated glory, although, is the gamers whose mere presence will hold them from coming into that specific higher room. However fortunately for the likes of Rajon Rondo and Kentavious Caldwell-Pope, they don’t must play towards the ghosts of Stephen Curry or Kevin Durant, or Wade and Chris Bosh, or a primary Shaq. Their opponents are these scrappy Miami Warmth on this NBA bubble, the place the wins rely the identical and the primary to 16 will get to go house as champion.

The explanation they closed to inside 48 minutes of restoring the franchise to anticipated glory, although, is the gamers whose mere presence will hold them from coming into that specific higher room. However fortunately for the likes of Rajon Rondo and Kentavious Caldwell-Pope, they don’t must play towards the ghosts of Michael Cooper and Kurt Rambis or Brian Shaw and Robert Horry. Their opponents are these scrappy Miami Warmth on this NBA bubble, the place the wins rely the identical and the primary to 16 will get to go house as champion.

And the Lakers don’t get this 102-96 Sport Four win with out these two making these performs late.

Rajon Rondo has been a key veteran participant off the bench for the Los Angeles Lakers. (Douglas P. DeFelice/Getty Photographs)

Caldwell-Pope is a soft-spoken, hard-playing sort who understands his function on this group is to defend, run exhausting and reap the benefits of restricted alternatives. He seemingly additionally is aware of his function with Laker followers has been the whipping boy, buying and selling turns with Kyle Kuzma the previous couple of seasons, earlier than fortunes turned with two fellow Klutch Sports activities shoppers, LeBron James and Anthony Davis.

Story continues

Rondo is used to succeeding in unconventional methods, defying the uncooked numbers, the deep analytics and even moderately raised expectations from those that’ve purchased into the “Playoff Rondo” mantra.

They’re chief causes these Lakers aren’t feared, so-called weak spots groups just like the Denver Nuggets or Houston Rockets or Los Angeles Clippers believed they may exploit in a playoff collection. Chief the explanation why groups within the Western Convention received’t run away and conceal this offseason when it’s time to reassess and cargo up for the 2020-21 season, for a shot on the presumptive defending champions.

Typically instances, the overused phrase “self verify” is blurted out when trying on the two, scouting reviews centered round “allow them to beat you” have littered locker rooms all season in each setting.

However for as a lot as Davis had his first Finals Horry second with a 3-point dagger to place his group up 9 with 37 seconds left, the Lakers wouldn’t have been in place to take this 3-1 benefit with out the 2 maligned teammates tuning out the season-long noise and taking part in to their private ceilings. A number of instances Caldwell-Pope made just like the Street Runner in organising Davis for straightforward dunks, or extra critically, sprinting to the nook for a triple off a positive James go with 2:58, adopted by a layup with the shot clock working down as Jimmy Butler properly glued himself to James versus serving to.

That fast swing gave the Lakers a 95-88 lead with 2:02 left, which in common bubble circumstances, may’ve disappeared in a flash however on this dirty Finals sport, it was decisive.

“Whoever is out on the ground with me, I imagine could make performs, and tonight was a working example of KCP,” James stated. “Stays prepared. He works on his craft.”

Miami later once more performed Rondo to the numbers, somebody prepared to go up an open layup in an effort to arrange a teammate, however he saved the Warmth at bay with an aggressive transfer that goes towards his common tendencies.

“Rajon is a big a part of what we do,” Lakers coach Frank Vogel stated. “I’ve an incredible quantity of belief in his skills, particularly on this ambiance, this deep into the playoffs when the video games imply a lot.”

The LeBron James-Anthony Davis combo is unassailable and can rise up alongside Magic and Kareem, and Shaq and Kobe when it’s throughout. The team-up is why the Lakers have returned to prominence and will probably be within the championship dialog for so long as they’re bodily in a position.

However selecting out reliable Lakers after these two can produce 5 completely different solutions from 5 of essentially the most seasoned and optimistic Laker observers. The inorganic approach this group was constructed leaves the door open to doubt in moments when James and Davis aren’t bodily overwhelming opponents.

They undergo bouts of inactivity, watching James pound the ball into mud and in want of yet one more shot creator. They’ve chilly spells that rival Milwaukee winters, snapping out of it earlier than issues get dire.

An ideal group of excellent stars, they don’t seem to be.

Davis discovered himself on the ground greater than a careless determine skater in Sport 4, attempting to close off Jimmy Butler’s water and make Miami’s offense suppose a bit greater than react to what it noticed in Sport 3.

The sleek sport he often performs wasn’t to be discovered, so even he earned some dirty stripes in gutting this one out.

“He is an enormous shot-maker late within the shot clock, early within the shot clock, fourth quarter, first quarter, every part in between,” James stated of Davis. “Only a big-time play, big-time second not just for AD however for our ballclub and our franchise.”

James doesn’t have way more to realize in his profession. Wherever he sits in your Mount Rushmore isn’t more likely to change no matter how the subsequent few years play out, and he could be smart to simply accept that no narrative will pull anybody from their non-neutral corners.

However he takes extra of a problem in chasing perfection, and taking a stage of pleasure from the game-to-game chess battles of changes that goes on. In any case, his slogan is “Try for greatness,” and he’s by no means finished job of hiding his annoyances with teammates over mixups or screw-ups.

Being nice in Sport Four wasn’t on the desk for LeBron James. (Kevin C. Cox/Getty Photographs)

“You by no means cease striving to be excellent or be nice. And you already know that an ideal sport shouldn’t be going to occur,” James stated. “Each sport has its personal changes and issues of that nature, and tonight was a type of video games the place we needed to win on the defensive finish and make some well timed pictures.”

Being nice for James wasn’t on the desk, regardless of the numbers (28 factors, 12 rebounds, eight assists) claiming it was a stellar efficiency. James turned it over six instances and when it seemed like he had the Warmth on the ropes, momentum swings he began to exert within the third and fourth quarters, he couldn’t put them away.

The Warmth had been making him suppose a split-second longer than he wished to, a testomony to James’ supercomputer and Miami’s teaching mind belief that had this collection on the verge of being tied.

James simply wanted to steer the ship or get out of the best way when it mattered most, to win the sport.

It wasn’t the Laker greats who pushed the Lakers to greatness, however gamers who had nice moments.

And nice moments add as much as a hoop.

Extra from Yahoo Sports activities:

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/the-unlikely-role-players-that-have-the-lakers-one-win-away-from-a-return-to-glory/ via https://growthnews.in

#Growth News

[specsnsarcasm]

Iron Man, Imperialism, and the Military-Industrial Complex

Was re-watching Avengers: Age of Ultron today and there’s a problematic line that I never really paid attention to until now.

[Note: I don’t know if this happened in the comic books, but I’m just focusing on the film and the film universe].

After Ultron has attacked the group, they’re trying to find out its next move. In one scene Tony explains that there’s a black market arms dealer he used to know (Claw):

Captain America: What dialect?

Bruce: Wakanada? W- wa- Wakanda!

[Tony and Cap look at each other, worried].

Tony: If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods…

Cap: I thought your father said he got the last of it.

(Wait, wut?)

Let’s break this down, shall we?

When Cap says that “[he] got the last of it,” he is ever-so-casually referring to Howard Stark potentally getting the last of a country's limited supply of vibranium, the extremely rare, extremely valuable metal, that was dubbed the strongest metal in the world. It's also one of the materials that comprises Cap’s shield. The implications of this statement are huge! This not a throw-away line!

As a multinational corporation and former weapons manufacturer with its hands in some questionable arms dealings, it is well-established that Stark Industries is built, at least in part, with blood money. The above line could potentially add another dark footnote to Stark’s legacy.

Because the audience is already familiar with Howard, we’re led to believe that he is on the side of the angels, and that he is keeping the metal from falling into the wrong hands.

Okay, but…

That is until you consider that history is written by the winners, and - Oh. F^CKING. Wait! Where have I heard this story before??? That’s right! It’s the story of how Western powers forcibly removed valuable resources from colonies, and kept them for their own purposes! (Say nothing of its stolen "people resources"! 👀). Going into another country and plundering their natural resources is imperialism. It doesn’t make Howard Stark look great.

Lucky, we know from the 'Black Panther' comic story that King T'Chaka (T'Challa’s dad) only sold minute quantities of Wakandan vibranium to outsiders. But that still doesn’t change the fact that Cap’s line implies that Howard Stark didn’t know that! As far as he was concerned, he "got it all"! And why would he celebrate this? Did he think it would be in "safer hands" with him? Because if so, that's some grade-A, paternalistic bullsh*t right there.

Secondly, it's a bit troubling how cavalier everyone is about dispensing this fact! Tony, however seems to know that his father didn’t get the entire supply because he refers to vibranium as a Wakandan “trade good,” which would mean that it is presumably still being "traded" (is it really thought?) even after Howard Stark’s death in the 90s. So maybe Howard didn’t know until after Cap went in the ice? Or maybe he never found out that there was still more of it.

The line might be an oversight or they could be trying to weave some elaborate story arc with Tony grappling with Howard’s legacy, or Tony vs Wakanda (unlikely). It could be a little mistake that comes back to bite them in the ass, but at this point in the MCU, its unlikely, as that’s not the main story. Personally, I think that this was a case of poor writing. Just a way to add a thread of continuity into the set-up for Black Panther.

Why the need for such cynicism and skepticism around this seemingly throw away line? Well, unfortunately, it just highlights the horrible reality of a world in which the real "Wakandas" of the world - African nations - were not allowed to exist in isolation from the West and thus follow a trajectory in which they thrive as a result. The reality is that entire countries comprised of "Howard Starks" have historically “gotteb the last of it” in many many countries, and benefitted at others expense as a result, thus making the fantasy and wish-fulfillment of 'Black Panther' in some ways, more significant than the other superhero movies.

Anyway, all of this made me think about the Starks and their legacy. Iron Man is one of my favourite Marvel movie characters (along with Spidey, Wolverine, and Storm), but the line made me question the fact that neither he, his father, nor their company have ever really been held accountable for their crimes against humanity. E.g. If a person committed a murder and got away with it, but then spent the rest of their life trying to atone for it by feeding the poor, caring for the sick, and otherwise trying to be a better person, that doesn’t absolve them of what they did or does justice still need to be done? In the same vein, a little guilt, fun vigilantism, and ego inflation is not justice. Yes, Tony saw *some* of the consequences of his actions, and saw Yinsen and those soldiers die. He has been trying to make amends ever since by divesting from weapons division of his company, charities, grants, etc. and Iron-manning. But is that the same as facing up to consequences? That takes courage and humility.

Am I advocating for Tony Stark to go to jail? For the purposes of the film and the fantasy, no. It’d be a pretty boring movie watching Tony Stark sit in a prison cell somewhere (although he did kind of sit in a cell in 'Iron Man', which was where he found his moral centre, so maybe not boring after all?). Moreover, arms dealing, while morally reprehensible, is technically speaking, legal.

Still, when I think about Howard and Tony not receiving many consequences for their actions, it rubs me the wrong way. Tony still gets to sit in Stark Towers (the penthouse that blood money built) with Pepper, parties, toys, gadgets, and cars, living the good life. And after everything, he STILL creates Ultron, another mass-murdering weapon, with impunity. Even though it works out, it’s clear that he hasn’t really learned important lessons.

I suppose this happens all the time in real life, which is why I think it annoys me. He’s the embodiment of things that are wrong with the real world. Namely, that privileged, rich men get to do what they want and stand on the broken backs of others while claiming to be, wholly on their own, exceptional and exempt. They push their own agendas and get away with selfish, bad behaviour. I go to movies and comic books to escape that! Haha There’s order and justice there! So even though we like characters, we can still view them critically. After all, the media and art we consume hold a revelatory mirror.

Tony has always been a reluctant hero, which made him complex and fun to watch. He’s never claimed to be a boy-scout. I wouldn’t want him to be. He's flawed and struggles to do the right thing, which makes him more accessible and human-seeming compared to Cap, at times. But that line brought everything into sharp focus for me. His position later on in Civil War (re: the accords and regulation) is a well-intentioned but misguided step. He meant well, and wasn't entirely wrong, but there were bigger things at play there.

Either way, I’m SUPER excited to see what they do with Black Panther CANNOT wait!

#iron man #tony stark #avengers: age of ultron #wakanda #vibranium #captain america #imperialism #howard stark #black panther #movies #captain america: civil war #my review of