the day's finally here
...Escaping...
Everything had to be relearned.
The names of people you already knew, the history of their Motherland, and most importantly, your duty to their people. In other words, a service of heroism you owed to people who had absolutely nothing to do with you.
Magath reevaluated your strengths and abilities as soon as Dr. Galliard gave him the greenlight. Unlike the first time, you did not do as well the second time around.
Out of five pistol targets, you made four bullseyes. Out of four rifle targets, you made three. As for the metal brick sling throwing, your score was higher than any soldier's but far lower than your broken record.
Dr. Galliard reasoned you were still in your recovery period, but you had your own suspicions. It's 'cause they keep pulling out my blood, you'd think in detest. Winning that one battle had been a luxurious drop of taste on their tongues, and they were insatiable for more.
When you had gotten back to your room, a pole with a clear bag hooked on it stood next to the bed. A box of medical equipment sat on your desk.
You'd later learn from the Jaegers, who had no opposition, that Zeke was the one who suggested that they made you feel more "comfortable," so that you wouldn't have to go on foot to the hospital twice a week.
Zeke Jaeger. The first person you had ever hated this much in your life. The man who struck a deal and prompted you to act in your favor. The man who did everything to show that you could trust him only for him to stab you in the back. The man who every time passed by your room, you'd freeze whatever you were in the middle of doing and silently hope he wouldn't come in.
That was the part that got you the most. You feared this man. This hairy bastard who looked twenty years older than his age. The person who lived under the same roof, and on some occasional nights, your nightmares would walk you back to that battle, and you would be forced to relive his betrayal and the following moments you thought would be your last.
It didn't just stop there. The blood drawing was tolerable to an extent until you began getting sick more and more often. Started out with tiny colds once a month. Then it'd become a fever every few weeks, often leaving you bedridden.
Only one thing got you through the nights pathetically tossing and turning in the sheets with a stuffy nose and burning skin. The hope of getting out. Even though you still hadn't found a way, with each day, the wanting to escape grew stronger and stronger.
And even on nights that felt like getting out was impossible, you relied on that innate sense of hope. It'd gotten you through some shit time and time again. Surely it would not fail you now when you needed it the most.
You just had to wait for the chance, and once you would catch it, you would never let it go.
* . * .
You clapped and cheered in the stands as you watched the annual candidate tournament. Gabi had just won wrestling a boy with a bigger figure. She raised a thumbs up at you and flashed a wide grin.
Getting their acceptance again was the easiest thing. Perhaps kids just didn't know better, but they had no problem picking up on where they left off with you. Which was your being their advisor and role model.
The rest of the Warriors were coming around. Reiner was still gloomy, but he still attempted casual chats with you whenever he could. Pieck didn't have a problem re-explaining everything to you, but you did notice her suspicion rise. As for Porco, after he learned the news from his mom, it seemed like he was avoiding you. You couldn't care less, though.
"Hey, Y/n?" Colt entered your row with Falco trailing behind, a defeated look on his face as the result of his elimination. "Zeke's calling me in to discuss next week's battle. Can I please leave Falco with you for the time being? I think he'd prefer you over anybody else to watch him."
"Sure, no problem." You patted the seat next to you.
You'd purposefully picked an emptier row so that you wouldn't be forced to make conversations or contact with anybody else, Eldian or Marleyan. Lessens the threat of someone sneaking up on you.
As you continued applauding the next two opponents, you noticed Falco who was still sulking. "It's okay, it's just a tournament," you said. "There's always next year."
"I didn't even make it past the first round."
"Well, last year you didn't even make the cut, right? It's a step up. Be proud."
He turned to you. "How did you know that?"
"Hm?"
"About last year? I don't think I told you that." He tilted his head, confused at himself. "Wait, did I?"
He did, a couple months before. But the new you weren't supposed to know that. "Gabi runs her mouth every day," you covered.
"Ohhh." He nodded. "That makes sense."
It did, because that little girl could not keep her mouth shut for the life of her.
He sighed. "I'm never going to become a Warrior, am I?"
"Not with that attitude, you won't."
"I know, you've told me before," he mumbled. "I try to be positive like you. And I try to learn from the stronger kids. But that's all I can doâlearn. I'll never be them. I'm always ten steps behind."
"You don't have to force yourself into this if you don't want to," you said. "Colt's next in line for the Beast, right? Won't your parents be happy enough with one Warrior?"
"I'm not doing it for them."
You raised an eyebrow. "So you're doing it for yourself? 'Cause if you're not doing it for either the ones you love or yourself, it's not worth it."
"Not exactly." His eyes darted to a brunette girl on the field, screaming her head off at her peers for not being organized enough with the rifle racks.
You snapped your head back to Falco, stunned. Then you started chuckling.
His face flushed red. "W-what! Stop laughing!"
You patted his shoulder, unable to stop grinning. "Oh, Falco."
"It's not what it looks like!"
"Really? So it's not because someone's got a crush and wants to take a titan to save her little ass? Forgive me for being wrong."
"Don't be so loud," he pleaded, face in his hands in embarrassment.
"You don't want her to know?"
"I don't even know if she likes me that way too, okay? Just forget it. She's way stronger than meâshe'd never like someone so weak."
You sighed. "Again with this attitude. You are not weak. You just need more practice than everybody else, and that's not your fault. Stop beating yourself up over it."
He buried his head in his knees and made an annoyed groan.
Looking at him made you think about your younger self. Was this how my friends witnessed me coming to terms with my feelings? No wonder they were always laughing. It was much more fun being a bystander than being in the connection itself.
"That's nice, though. You already have a special someone." He replied with an unenthusiastic noise. "But just between me and you, Falco, I think she likes you too."
He sat up straight with wide eyes. "Y-you think?"
"Hell yeah. Just by the way she acts around you. Talks to you. Even looks at you. She just needs more time than you to realize it."
You wanted to bite your tongue from how similar you sounded like your friends when they tried convincing you that you liked Eren. Damn it, stop thinking about him.
"How do you know that much about this...'special someone' stuff? My brother doesn't even know anything. He grilled this information out of me and only pokes fun at me." Just as he looked like he was about to ask something, he shook his head to himself.
"What do you want to ask?"
"Huh? Oh, um, I was going to ask if you've ever had a special someone, too. But then I remembered you lost your memories. Twice. I'm sorry, that must've been offensive to ask."
"It's not offensive. And it doesn't take a genius to figure out attraction between two people. I think Colt's just built a little more dense."
Falco laughed. "Yeah, he can be dumb sometimes. His only relationship lasted two months because his ex-girlfriend said he was way too nice and perfect."
"What the hell?"
"I know. I just don't see any examples of a real 'special someone' around here. Kind of sad, honestly."
Special someones. You had a special someone. Have. Someone you missed so deeply sometimes that you didn't even know how you could still breathe. You just couldn't tell him. But...could I?
Gabi headed up for her next round, which ended in a matter of minutes. When she won, Falco seemed more happy for her than he had ever been for himself. He looks like how Eren looks at me.
Fuck it. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You were leaving anyway, and if there was one person you'd tell your tale toâbecause you were truthfully so desperate to talk to someoneâit would be Falco. Sweet, genuine, mature Falco. Just this one thing. Let me have this one thing.
"I did have a special someone once."
He turned to you, puzzled. "Here?"
"No, not here."
"Then..." His face slowly lit up in surprise. In a whisper, he asked you, "You remember your past?"
"No, no," you shook your head with a smile, "just this one person. Actually, I...I'm not sure if he's even a real person or if I just made him up," you added to solidify your act. "But he's there. In my mind. Always there."
Haunting your every move, every thought, every action. Even if you never fully acknowledged that presence.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, fidgeting with his hands. "It's okay if you don't. Please don't feel pressured."
You craned your neck up at the sunny sky. Two birds flew in circles around each other until one of them flew away and the other followed.
"He...he had these beautiful teal eyes. With thick eyelashes that I was honestly jealous of. He had this smile that could make me smile every time. He was taller, much taller, but I was older. He was always salty about it." You squinted your eyes. "I think he's 16 now." That makes me 17.
Falco listened intently with a pureness of curiosity. He had never heard you speak of someone so gently and fondly before.
"But what I remember the most is he understood me in ways nobody else could. He always stood by me, supported me no matter what. Even when I was clearly in the wrong." You smiled to yourself, shaking your head. "It made him a big idiot sometimes."
"You loved him, didn't you?"
You blanked, letting the word settle in your brain. Love. "Yeah," you breathed out. "Yeah, I did." And I still do. You just never got to tell him that.
"Did he love you back?"
You snorted. "He better." Shit, I sure hope so.
"I'm really sorry, Ms. Y/n."
You turned to him. "For what?"
He looked dejected for you. "Because we took you from your lover. I know they say you have to fulfill your duties as our savior or something like that. But...it's still not fair. You were taken away from your home, even though you don't remember all of it. But still, nobody deserves it."
Your heart swelled a little. "Don't feel sorry, Falco. It's not your fault."
"But it's still not right."
You released a breath and relaxingly rested your head on the back of your arms. "Whatever. Right and wrong never really mattered anyway. If it did, the world wouldn't have ended up like this. Everybody thinks they're in the right, and they're always pointing fingers at whoever they can blame."
Gabi hurried to the stands, waving her arms to catch your attention. You and Falco walked down the steps to meet her. "Ms. Y/n! Did you see me absolutely pummel that little bitch?! I used one of your moves, too!"
"It was a damn nice kick, good job." You raised your palms up and she clapped them. But the roundhouse kick wasn't your move, it belonged to that pharmacy clerk Leonhart's daughter.
You tapped Falco on the back and nodded your head to Gabi. "Uhh," he scratched the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes, "that was, um, really awesome. So, congrats."
She reached her arms out and hugged him around the neck, squeezing the life out of him. "Thank you, Falco!" His face fueled up tomato red and he was speechless.
You couldn't stop grinning as you watched the two of them. No wonder your friends all were so invested in you and Eren, it was incredibly entertaining watching a connection unfold. Stop thinking about him, it'll just make this all worse.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Magath and a few of his men leave the stands, heading for the buildings. Your smile faded. "Alright, I'll leave you guys to catch up. Great job again, Gabi. Really proud of you. But I've got to go back to work."
"I'll make you even prouder when I win the finals next week!"
"Bet you will," you called out as you left the stands.
After a long walk circling the building, you sat down against a wall right below a window. It had a railing carrying flower pots and your surroundings were all bushes, both a convenient cover for you.
"Alright, let's start where we left off," you heard Magath say through the creak of the window that you had made sure to leave open every day.
You'd been eavesdropping on the Marleyan officials for the past few weeks for anything useful that could provide you an opening to escape. The most important thing you've gathered so far was that they were considering sending a battleship to Paradis, but it wasn't yet confirmed. Otherwise, they just talked about Marley and its own troubles with the world.
"But she's not of age yet." That was Zeke's voice. You sharpened your focus. You knew by now when they talked about a "her," it was always you.
"She will in a year and will be ready to accept her new duties," someone said.
You scoffed. You don't have enough of me yet?
"Dr. Galliard is already preparing a pool of suitors that meet the medical and intellectual standards to conduct the next phase of the experiments," someone else added.
Suitors?
"Just say husband. It's nothing shameful."
You slapped your hand over your mouth before your vocal cords could rip out a "what the fuck?!"
"I agree that we can't just find anybodyâthere needs to be a pool to select," said Zeke. "Conceiving children is not only a hard thing on the mother, but also on the father. We need to make sure it'll be a man willing to fulfill his duty to father the next generation of Fritz-Ackermans."
"Also, Dr. Galliard reported her physical injuries won't affect her fertility capability. So we can ensure her bloodline is capable of continuing."
"That's good. We cannot afford to wait for history to repeat itself again after another hundred years."
Oh. You rested the back of your head against the wall. I get it now. Of course you weren't enough for them. A single human being had their own limits. One day, just like everybody else, you would wither and die. And when you do, they want to make sure they continue getting what they want.
You had under a year, if not less. Time was starting to tick, and panic was starting to rise.
"Moving on," said Magath. He hadn't spoken once in the conversation about the suitors. Paper rustled. "Next wee,k we have the next battle of the Mid-East. Is she ready to be put on the field again?"
"Well, I heard she's doing great. It's like nothing had ever happened. Really interesting, this girl."
"But do we really want to take that chance? She's already proven to be quite careless. The last time, she completely lucked out. This time, we don't know what mess she could put herself in." Several people made noises of agreement.
"I say we employ her again," said Zeke. "She's still an incredible soldier. I'm sure if we set higher security measures for her, mistakes won't be repeated twice. I personally volunteer to keep an eye on her and ensure her safety when I wouldn't be on the battlefield."
In the end, Magath agreed. They moved on.
You had to get yourself out of going to battle. From what Zeke had just said, implications that only you could decipher, if you left with them on that train and got onto that airship, that would truly be the last time you'd ever breathe. And by then, you wouldn't know if you'd strike the same miraculous luck.
"We can deploy more aircraft," said Magath. "Leave on battleship to deploy to Paradis."
All your worries washed out. All you focused on was Magath's voice.
"We've been delaying that mission for too long, and frankly, I wouldn't mind just getting over it with. Have the infiltration team leave the same day as us. Just keep in touch with them through the ship's radios."
They started talking about trade with the East. You got out of the bushes. And you began to head back.
Forget a year. Forget monthsâforget even weeks. It was down to a matter of days.
For the first time in a long time, you were grinning ear to ear. After so many months of waiting for a chance, you finally got one. The ticket was practically in your hands, and it never looked shinier.
You were getting on that boat, and nothing was going to stop you.
. * . *
It was the night before the departure for the battle of the Mideast, and Zeke was standing by your bedside, watching his grandmother feed you broth and his grandfather sorting out which meds to take.
"Zeke, you cannot let her go like this," pleaded Grandma Jaeger, rubbing your back. "Poor girl has a fever for the third time this month!"
"Grandma, you have to understand that she has duties that she must fulfill."
"Missing one battle is not the end of the world," reasoned Grandpa Jaeger. "We ought to remember what happened the last time she went to one. Give her more time to rest."
Before Zeke responded, you beat him to it. "I should go," you said, coughing. "I'll be okay. Zeke is rightâI have duties. I can't use this fever as an excuse. Besides, he'll be there with me, right?"
You forced a smile, and he forced one back. He still hadn't figured out if you were acting or not. On one hand, he knew you already had experience with this memory loss act. On the other, you were too naturalâthere was nothing to suspect you of, and it vexed him.
This is too much of a coincidence. There were the airships for the battle and there was the battleship to Paradis. She couldn't know about that, could she? She isn't even supposed to remember Paradis if she is who she claims to be. Is she even sick in the first place?
You suddenly lurched over the edge of your bed and retched. Remnants of the broth spilled all over Zeke's shoes just as he was stepping back. "Shit, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Zeke squeezed his eyes shut and let out a huge breath, a practice of patience. "They're right," he said, having given up. "You're very, very sick. You should stay."
"What?" You had to remind yourself not to laugh out loud at how easy it was to disgust him. You didn't even vomitâyou just spat. "NoâI can still do it! I can goâ"
He held up a hand. "No, I think it would be for the best," he said, heading out the door. "I will inform Magath and the others first thing tomorrow morning."
Soon, the Jaeger grandparents left and wished you a well-rested night. Once you were sure that the household had gone to bed, you went to the desk, lit the candles, and took out your journal from its hiding place.
You flipped to the most recent, freshly written page and crossed the first thing off the short, simple list.
1̶. G̶e̶t̶ o̶u̶t̶ o̶f̶ b̶a̶t̶t̶l̶e̶
You'd been crafting the plan night and day for the past week. Though you weren't Armin with his genius levels of masterplanning, this would do. It had to. You were practically wagering your fate on thisâif it failed, that meant husbands and children with people you don't know. You could throw up for real just thinking about it.
Zeke left early next morning before you woke up. Soon after Grandma Jaeger delivered the breakfast to your room, the other Jaegers left as well.
Grandpa Jaeger to the hospital for "work." It wasn't; it was just the hospital's way of convincing him to go for treatment. Grandma Jaeger left for an old ladies' social event.
So that just left you. All alone in the house.
You chomped on the pancakes in silence, savoring it because you knew it'd be the last meal you'd ever get from Grandma Jaeger. She was a good cook. Both the Jaeger grandparents were good people. Such a shame how tragic their lineage had become.
When you finished, you brought the plate downstairs, glazing over the pictures on the wall. Would you miss them? Maybe. They were very hospitable, and you were grateful at least some people treated you decently. As if you really had been their granddaughter.
After the plate was in the sink, you turned on the stove to its maximum. You grabbed a few bottles of rum and headed back upstairs.
You were already packed since last night, but you reviewed your notes and scribbles one more time before throwing the journal in the bag.
You brought it to the end of the hall, sliding the window all the way open, and placed the bag right below it.
Back in the room, you unhooked the two bags of blood from the pole. The nurses used to bring it back to the hospital after they came and drew your blood, but you'd convinced them a month ago you could do it yourself and deliver it on your own time.
With both the bags and the bottles of rum in your arms, you opened a bottle and tilted it sideways, the liquor spilling down the steps as you headed back down.
You dumped some rum in the living room. In the dining room. In the office. And lastly, you returned to the kitchen and emptied the bottles.
You tore the top of the blood bags and walked to the stove, where the fire was still lit.
After numerous little experiments in your room in the night, the secret to this mysterious power of your blood finally got figured out. It took some poking and prodding, but the breakthrough was when you had tipped your pen into a puddle of blood, then you stabbed it into the wall. Sure enough, there was a brief, blue spark.
The Fritz-Ackerman fire was activated through force and friction. The blood by itself caused sparks up to little flames. But it needed to come into contact with real, natural fire in order to ignite into a blaze, and eventually, explosions.
One chance. You hovered the two bags above the fire on the stove, ready to be tipped over. One chance, and there's no turning back.
You dumped the bags onto the stove and staggered back as it erupted into an azure inferno. But instead of running, you just watched, frozen. And then it was as if you were no longer in the kitchenâbut that night in the Mid-East. The night those same blue flames destroyed an entire field. The night you were betrayed. The night you nearly died.
It was only when the trail of alcohol caught on fire right beside your foot that you spun around and sprinted back the stairs, heart pounding. The sound of wild flames followed you up as you dashed down the hall, snatched up your bag, jumped out of the window, and landed with a roll.
You'd spent enough time memorizing the most rural routes of Liberio. So you ran down familiar, deserted alleys and never looked back once.
Shit, I should've thought that through even more. You'd been so focused on crafting this plan that you didn't even take into consideration how it might affect you. How seeing the same fires from the night you almost died would affect you. But it's over now, you told yourself.
You ran and ran until there were no alleys left but to return to the main streets. Still, you dipped your head low and moved at a fast pace. When the authorities noticed a beacon of smoke in the neighborhood and ran down your street, you slipped into the nearest shop. The pharmacy.
The front desk was empty, so you helped yourself into the restroom. You took out your change of Marleyan clothes and your journal, flipping open to the list.
2̶. G̶e̶t̶ o̶u̶t̶ o̶f̶ h̶o̶u̶s̶e̶
After you were changed, bag slung over your shoulder, you walked out but were met with a familiar silhouette browsing the shelves. Grandpa Jaeger.
You dove under the front desk just as his head started turning your way.
"Who's there?" he asked.
You didn't even get to curse yourself properly when Mr. Leonhart walked out from the storage room, eyes setting right onto you.
Fuck. Your stomach dropped. I'm fucking dead.
But he looked away and just took his spot at the front desk, keeping a short distance between your legs and his. "Sorry about that. Shipment just came in this morning. Had to organize some stuff."
"No worries, Leonhart. I must be seeing things again." Grandpa Jaeger placed a few things on the counter. "This is all for the day."
Mr. Leonhart helped sort them into the grocery bag. "Headin' back to the hospital?"
Grandpa Jaeger hummed in agreement. "I've got a long day ahead of me. Need something to keep me alert."
"Of course."
After the door clicked shut, he glanced down at you. "They've already early this morning for the battle. You're very late."
"Oh, really?" You faked a chuckle as you crawled out. "Guess I missed the memo. Pretty embarrassing." You internally cringed at how bad that lie was. Where'd my decent acting skills go?
Mr. Leonhart's eyes followed you as you headed to the door. But you halted right as you took the handle.
He's seen me. But I can't kill or hurt him. Shit, how do I convince him he didn't see me? You'd considered so many alternatives except for a case like this.
"When you get back home," he started, bringing your attention to him, "tell my Annie that her lousy, old father misses her. Tell her come back home. It's been too long." Then he took a seat and immersed himself back into work.
You could do nothing else but mutter a quick, "I will," before leaving the shop. You'd forgotten to even say thank you for covering for me.
At the next alley opening, you sneaked back into the labyrinth of deserted pathways, turning corner upon corner until you reached the edge of the walls by the graveyard.
No Marleyan soldier cared about the Eldian dead, so there were rarely any guards around this area. In the bushes, there were rusty bars under the cement walls where animals used to sneak in and out of.
You wrenched the bars wide enough one last time, as you had been doing, slowly pulling and pulling for the past few days. You chucked your bag under and slipped through the narrow opening, careful enough not to stain your white uniform.
From there, it was easy to sneak into town, following the Marleyan civilians to the train stop.
You used the last bits of your Marleyan change to buy your one-way ticket to the port. You stepped onboard and found a corner seat. And when the train started moving along, you took out your journal.
3̶. G̶e̶t̶ o̶u̶t̶ o̶f̶ L̶i̶b̶e̶r̶i̶o̶
At the port, you entered a crowded fenced area for the volunteers of the ship to Paradis. You made it just in time.
It was full of not just Marleyan soldiers but Eldians and foreigners in uniforms. As you slipped through the crowd, you purposefully shoved a man forward who collided with a woman.
As she pointed fingers, accusing the man of being a pervert, gaining a lot of attention, you had already picked up the woman's helmet and fit it on your own head, twisting your hair into a bun and stuffing it inside.
You stepped into one of the lines that were ready to be let onto the ship. It was difficult not to ignore your cold hands and to suppress your shaky breaths. This was it. You were almost there. Just one last step, one last thing to be crossed out, and you were done.
"Where's your armband?"
You snapped your head up to a tall woman towering over you.
You already had prepared an answer. "I'm not Eldian."
"Then you're in the wrong line." She pointed a finger elsewhere. "Lines for Marleyans and foreigners are that way."
"Right. Sorry," you muttered as you quickly headed to the other line. That tiny embarrassment was considerably worth itâat least you hadn't been exposed. That'd be horrible, especially since you were so close. The docks were right there in your line of sight.
Once you were at the front of the line, a dark-skinned man asked for a name to write down.
"Freya L/n," you said.
He nodded, jotted it down, and moved on to the next soldier.
You clutched the straps of your bag tight as you walked step by step on the dock. Up the ramp. Onto the ship.
While everybody else resumed back to chatting and introducing themselves to each other, you were by the railings, watching the lines get shorter and shorter until only a few people were left.
You watched attentively as the tall woman and the dark-skinned man were the last to get onto the ship. You watched as the men pulled back the ramp and closed the entrance of the ship. And finally, the waves were moving. The ship was moving.
You held onto the railings as you let out a huge breath of utter relief, feeling the weight of months worth of stored-up stress lift off your shoulders.
I did it. I actually did it. It finally felt right to break into a smile and release a genuine laugh.
You took out your journal and your pen and crossed off the fourth and last thing on the list, completing it officially.
4̶. G̶e̶t̶ o̶u̶t̶ o̶f̶ M̶a̶r̶l̶e̶y̶
Faking your death by a house fire. That was your "master plan."
Again, you were no Arminâbut this plan worked. Everything went the way you hoped forâand even at times when it wasn't, it still worked out.
But you weren't naïve. You knew Zeke and the rest of the Marleyan officials weren't stupid. You believed they might catch onto it sooner or later. But you were sure by the time they do, they wouldn't be able to do a single thing about it, based on what you learned through eavesdropping.
They may be winning against the Mid-East, but Marley was not favored by the rest of the world. It was predicted of them to start war with other nations soon, and when they do, they'd have too much time and resources taken up to waste on conspiracies of your real or fake death.
Besides, they had more than a shit ton of your blood anyway, so much storage they hadn't even infused into their weapons yet. They'd be fine.
You looked out to the horizon line, letting the wind breeze past your skin, inhaling the smell of sea salt. You were smiling so wide that you were sure you looked insane. But god, were you uncontrollably ecstatic.
I'm going home. After nearly a year of this unwanted life, you could finally tell yourself without feeling like a fool, I'm finally going home.
*
i think i ate this chap up
i doubt anybody remembers but back in i think chap 23 mikasa said smth like "dont trust her with fire, she'll burn the house down." heyyy subtle and forgettable foreshadowingg
watching yall freak out over the amnesia scare last chap is so funny like haha yall rly thought?
Also ty for 30k reads! gained so many divas in the comments so keep it up
for those who want fluff, just one more chap. i promise. (i'd warn u not to trust my promises but im being fr this time)