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liquorisce · 2 years

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i dreamed i left you [4]

pairing: eren x mikasa

rating: E | read on ao3 | chap 1

EREN

Mikasa watches me with a pained expression. As if staying in my house, in my vicinity, is suddenly the most painful thing she needs to deal with. Once upon a time, she told me, “I don’t know how I spent so many years without you.” Her breath was warm against my neck as she said it, and her fingers played with my chest hair aimlessly. “This feels so natural—“ and in case I had had any doubt as to what she was talking about, she added, “This. You and me. Us .”

Sometimes I wonder how everything changed so quickly. Maybe it was all a lie from the very beginning.

Trying to mask the irritation I felt, I said, “Give me your phone.”

She looks at me suspicious and annoyed. I extend my hand impatiently. “You can ask me nicely, you know.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Can you please give me your phone, Mikasa?” And because I couldn’t help myself, “Now.”

She makes a face at me but hands it over. Her wallpaper has changed— stripped from the selfie of the two of us she used to love so much, to the default bland blue device screen. I put in the passcode I knew she wouldn’t have changed. Armin picks up his phone before it even rings once.

“Mikasa,” he exclaims. “God, I’ve been worried sick. I didn’t call because you asked me not to. What the hell is going on—“

“Armin.”

The line falls silent. I know he’s still there. It’s like I can hear the emotions in Armin’s head— a moment of surprise that bleeds its way into anger. “… Eren.” His voice is forcefully level. “Why do you have Mikasa’s phone?”

See, I know Armin well, I know he’s angry, I know he has… feelings about what went down between me and Mikasa. But what I resented more than anything else is this air of ownership he exerted over her. He was always like this, like a fucking bulldog— this is my friend. What are you doing with her? Made me want to punch him. “Because she gave it to me.” I sound so nice, a perfect gentleman.

“Silly of me to ask… something happens to Mikasa, and of course, you’re in the picture.” Armin likes to sound professional, but I know he doesn’t mean it kindly. This was how Armin screamed at me that it was my fault.

“Or maybe I was never out of the picture,” I say dryly. Asshole. “Text me your address. I’m coming to pick you up.”

I glance at Mikasa, who’s watching me nervously. Is he okay? She mouths. This is another thing I hate, how protective she gets over Armin. There’s a predictably uncomplicated theme here… I have this terrible desire to be the only one she cares about, the only one on her mind, to have her so completely focused on me that she forgets everybody else. But I try my best not to listen to that part of me. I’ll probably earn little more than her hatred in that pursuit, and I think I’d rather deal with the annoying blonde. “Mikasa says she has some keys she needs to return to you.”

“And she can’t do that herself?”

“Nope,” I say, and cut the call. I don’t think I could stand to listen to his self-righteous tone even one second longer.

“What did he say? Is he alright?”

I could hear the words he didn’t say: You’re no good for her, Eren. You have no business being with her. Oh wait, those were words he’d said to me already. It wasn’t my imagination, it was my memory. “He sounded great.” Mikasa looks relieved. Honestly, what the fuck was going to happen to him anyway? We’d yet to establish the motive of the attacker but I highly doubt the line of the target would extend until Armin. Unless it had to do with him or his boyfriend… but it didn’t make sense. I watch her grimace as she gets off the bed unsteadily.

“Do we meet him at university, then?”

I smile at her sweetly, handing her phone back. “ We are going nowhere. I’m leaving and you’re staying right here.”

Her mouth gapes open at me. “Eren,” she says, as if I can’t be serious. “You can’t be serious.” I mentally gave myself a pat on the back. Seems I still knew her well enough.

“Serious enough, Mikasa. Rest up, get better,” and because I couldn’t resist myself, I smirk, “and stay put like a good girl, yeah?”

She watches me, shocked for a moment before anger bleeds into her eyes. “So what? You’re just going to keep me caged up here? Until you ‘deal’ with whoever is behind this?”

Her voice is steely when she’s angry, eyes bright and beautiful when she’s enraged. I knew my remark would piss her off, and maybe I wanted it to. Maybe I was fucking tired of being the only one on edge like this, pulled taut like I was about to snap at any second. Or maybe I just wanted to see her feel something for me again, I don’t know. But now when I look at her, pretty lips drawn into a thin line, face flushed in anger, I think about the times we’ve argued before. And how we fucked and made up after it. I don’t think that part of the story is going to repeat itself. “Something like that,” I say.

Her eyes widen angrily. “You can’t force me to stay,” she spat. “You have no leads, you don’t even know if you’ll find anyone or not.” And then, softer, “I was there, Eren. This is my mess, at least let me help you.”

Her mess? Her mess? “Sure,” I drawl, trying to ignore what she just said, “... you can help. I’ll parade you around as bait and wait for whoever was after you to show up. How does that sound?”

She looks like she actually believes me for a moment, and I snort, turning around to leave.

“I can’t believe you.” I can hear the venom in her voice. “And if you end up empty-handed? Again? How long am I going to be locked up here?”

That was a low fucking blow and she knows it. To bring up the one time I’d failed, after tearing through the city, following every fucking lead I had for months, going after the people who’d taken her parents away from her… I’d done everything in my power, and I’d failed.

“You can’t believe me?” My fist flies against the wall angrily before I can even consider it. Mikasa’s body slides back against the wall defensively, nestled underneath the shadow of my body. “No, you know me pretty fucking well, Mikasa.” Frustration bleeds into self-preservation, and if I looked carefully enough into her silvery eyes, I could see the slightest hint of fear. I didn’t enjoy it enough to look much longer. Withdrawing from her and putting enough of a distance between the two of us, I tell her coldly, “I’ll keep you here forever if I have to. Just watch me.”

Zeke is hovering as I tie my shoelaces. “Just say what you want to say and be done with it.” It’s misplaced anger at him, but I don’t have it in me to apologize right now.

“Nothing much to say,” he says, with a small grin. But it’s Zeke, he never has nothing to say. “You just sounded a bit mad, if I must be honest.” I glare at him, and he shrugs and laughs.

I guess it wasn’t a good look but I’d said what I had to say. This is the effect she has on me. She makes me crazy. Out of control. The way a Don isn’t meant to be. And the only way I can control it is to have her with me, by my side, not let her out of my sight, so I know she’s okay. That she’s safe. That she’s mine.

Fine, maybe Zeke isn’t wrong; I feel mad. It’s like I’m driven by this inflamed desire that burns through my body and sits in the pit of my stomach, craving more. It runs in the family. I saw it in my father; madness that he couldn’t control, madness that he couldn’t face. Madness in the shape of my mother— just a poor woman in the wrong place and the wrong time who he was afflicted by. And when he couldn’t control it, when his own problems took her away from him, his madness morphed into despair and consumed him.

But I’m not like him. I can control it. There is nothing in this world that can harm Mikasa as long as I’m alive, I’ll make sure of it.

“Then don’t be honest,” I say, coolly. “Did you speak to Lin?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And?”

“Turns out the dead don’t really have much to say, unfortunately.”

I stare at Zeke, dumbfounded. He looks at me pityingly, as if my reaction is pointless. Shock is for the newbies, the initiates, the lower rungs of the Mafia. The ones who didn’t know any better. If a target has a bodyguard, and the target still managed to get hit, it was obvious the bodyguard must have fared poorly. I just didn’t think… “You’re sure he was killed?”

Zeke sighs. “He didn’t pick up his phone, so I asked one of my men to go check on his station. He was found on the floor, throat slit in the room that faced Mikasa’s window.”

“Killing our men is a blatant act of aggression,” I murmur.

“I’d say targeting your woman was the act of aggression here. Lin was the unfortunate casualty.” And then Zeke says, finally remembering to sound sorrowful, “May he rest in peace.” Something in my expression must have prompted it.

“She’s not my woman, Zeke.”

He looks at me like I’m a fucking idiot. “Eren.” His hand thumps my shoulder. “I don’t think our world really cares much for this little fight you guys are having—”

“I don’t think you understand—”

“What don’t I understand?” His eyes are ice cold. “She won’t fuck you anymore and you feel like you’re dying inside? Nobody cares except you. You’re the one who doesn’t fucking understand, Eren.” His blue eyes feel glacial. If he’d punched me in the gut, it might have hurt less. “To everybody else, she’s yours. There’s not much that’ll change it.” He makes a show of scratching his beard. “Except death, perhaps.”

A dull headache bloomed behind my eyes. I wonder why of late this is the discussion that always follows the topic of Mikasa— death, harm, despair. I grabbed my keys and left without a word.

I tried to keep my head as blank as I could, on the way to pick up Armin. The way I felt right now… restless, unsettled, I felt like I was turned inside out— from so many things. Mikasa was in danger, Zeke just handed my ass to me in a few words, Mikasa was back in my house. I couldn’t fucking think straight. And it was particularly unfortunate because I needed to think straight in front of Armin.

He was one of those insufferable intellectual types, always had been. Even when he was fifteen, I remember him sitting at a corner at luncheons, looking down at the room of gangsters and corrupt politicians like he somehow knew better than them. To be honest, he probably did. But it didn’t make him any less insufferable.

Turning into the university parking lot, I pull into the VIP section. Ridiculous that universities even had such a thing, but there’s nothing money hasn’t corrupted in this city. How the fuck else did the children of the mafia end up with degrees? We sure as hell didn’t have the time (or the inclination) to study.

I did, once upon a time. Screamed at my father that I’d go to college, get an honest job and work the system the way it was meant to be worked. Swore I’d never become a criminal like him. A valiant thought, but laughable in retrospect. But that was how Armin and I actually got close when we were younger. We were both kids born to rotten families, who wanted to do better. Now, I guess at least one of us is working towards it.

Sure enough, he’s waiting for me where he said he would, cargo pants and a navy blue t-shirt, rucksack slung behind his shoulders. His hair has grown a bit longer, and it reminds me of Armin in school. He’d get bullied a lot by the jocks for looking like a ‘girl’, and Mikasa would stare them down every time. But now he’s the one staring me down. Funny how we’ve all grown up.

I jingled his house keys at him. We look at each other quietly, Armin through his glasses and me through the over-expensive pair of shades that make me feel thoroughly out of place here. It appears we’ve outgrown the hugs and the fistbumps we used to exchange once upon a time.

“Is that all?” He asks curtly.

“I’ll drive you home,” I tell him. “It isn’t safe for you to go by yourself at the moment.” I can see him roll his eyes as he walks around the car to the passenger seat.

“You know, the average person is quite used to going about life without a bulletproof car, and firearms in his pockets,” he says, buckling himself in. I don’t know if he’s making assumptions or if he really is that fucking observant, but he was spot on.

“Your apartment’s been compromised,” I inform him, shifting the gear into reverse. And you’re not exactly an average person— as far as the political sphere went, Armin was practically royalty.

He lets out a clipped, sarcastic laugh. “The entire city’s been compromised by the lot of you.”

I grit my teeth and decide to let that comment slide. When we were in school, we’d take my car sometimes and drive to the cliffs and watch the ocean below. Armin and I would chatter nonstop about how fucked up everything was, and how the city and its people deserved better. Mikasa would whack us on the head if we’d argue. Now, we just drive quietly. Armin looks out the window and doesn’t say anything to me.

The streets are narrow and winding, especially because Armin lives bang in the city centre. When we get to the apartment, I hand over the keys and find a place to park, which isn’t exactly easy around here. The neighbourhood he lives in belongs to the Reiss family, and by not-so-well-known extension, us. It was a fairly recent cooperation between us, so I wasn’t surprised that Mikasa had chosen to stay here to get away from me. But the street in itself is crowded as shit, and in general, not a great place to live. It was littered with student bars and cheap imported knock-offs, and depending on the vendor you ask, you could get yourself whatever fix you desired. It attracted wonderful company; drunk students, desperate drug addicts, and traffickers that Rod Reiss loves to deny his involvement with. When I climb out of the car, I spot street peddlers eyeing me in ways they probably think are completely unobvious. I didn’t have to think twice about deciding to have Lin keep an eye on Mikasa from across the street.

We walk up the narrow staircase and into a small corridor. “Take off your shoes,” he states bossily, before opening the door and walking into a cosy little living room. It was probably only a little bigger than my bathroom, decorated with just a sofa bed and a TV, and a wall scattered with pictures and framed articles that Armin had probably written. He was sentimental like that. The pictures were mostly of him and his boyfriend, and some friends from university. In the corner, I think I can spot a picture of the three of us— Mikasa, Armin and I— Mikasa too shy to smile properly because it was probably from the time she wore braces.

“Mikasa said it happened in Jean’s room,” he says, finally allowing his worry to show on his face, and scurrying down the narrow corridor. You can tell it’s a student’s apartment, run on an income comprising of part-time music gigs at local bars, submissions to journals and newspapers, and a struggling model’s wages. Armin had refused his obnoxiously abundant inheritance from his Grandfather— ex-Mayor and at one point foreign ambassador— and decided to slum it. Or he was disowned for preferring dick but, really, I think the old man would have gotten over it eventually if Armin didn’t show him the middle finger and walk out. Ultimately it didn’t matter, his name carried weight wherever he went and even a disgraced Arlert would always have more pull than a nobody. But I think it was more the principle of it, for him.

Armin runs into the room like a child and I have to pull him back because there’s glass all over the damn floor. I survey the floor carefully. Sure enough, it’s there— wedged in between the cracks of Armin’s ancient wooden flooring. I pick up the shiny little bullet carefully, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger, thankful for the sloppiness of the idiot who was assigned this job because if it was one of my guys he would have been instructed to go in and wipe the trail. But the closer I look, the more I start to wonder if it was even stupider than that— and as my thumb brushes the underside of the bullet, I recognise that our markings aren’t there. This wasn’t ours. We had a monopoly on arms distribution in this city.

Not only was this fucker trying to hurt Mikasa, he was also trying to smuggle arms into the city.

The scene looks awful. Large, red letters screamed “You Owe Me” on the wall. It’s pig’s blood probably, but it manages to deliver the effect the artist intended for it. Armin has run into the bathroom. I can hear him retching in the background as I snap some pictures of it for evidence. I forgot that he was sensitive to the sight of blood. It was a good thing he’d distanced himself from his family. “The kid isn’t made for this kind of life,” Grandpa Arlert told me once, when Armin was out of earshot. He was right.

Despite the awkwardness between us, I enter his tiny bathroom and rub his back as he hangs his head over the commode. “That’s horrible,” Armin gasps, tears pricking his eyes.

“I know,” I murmur. I feel a kind of nostalgic protectiveness wash over me. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Depositing him on his living room couch, I ask, “You feeling better?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. His eyes are still watery. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never been particularly good with blood.”

“I know.” I can’t help but smile a little bit at that, at the fact that some things haven’t changed. Armin was a sensitive guy, something he’d gotten better at hiding thanks to high school bullies. It’s the part of him that cried to romcoms and classical music that I’d witnessed countless times when we were younger.

He looks a little embarrassed. “But it isn’t human blood, yeah?”

I shake my head, no. “Pig’s blood, probably.”

He nods. “What are you thinking?” Armin asks, quietly.

To be honest, nothing. There was literally nothing on my mind, I had no leads. I cracked my knuckles. “Not much, right now. I want to go home and run the make of this bullet because it isn’t ours.” Armin cocks an eyebrow at that. It was fucking strange indeed.

“Do you think…” He takes a deep breath. “Do you think it’s related to that incident?”

“What do you—” Oh. Armin looks visibly uncomfortable. I grit my teeth. “... It’s been nearly two years, Armin.”

I hated being reminded of this. Around a year and a half ago there was an incident where a couple who ran a restaurant— in our territory— was caught trafficking young girls into the country. We ran a lot of organized crime, but this was a hard line for me and Zeke. The only problem is that by the time the couple was ‘caught’ by us, they were already dead. Which meant somebody else was running this. These two were just unfortunate casualties in an attempt to cover this up. “We followed every lead we had…” And raided every single brothel or establishment under our jurisdiction that might be connected and shut them down wherever we found evidence.

“Yeah, but we never found the person behind it. Just soldiers who wouldn’t speak, no matter how much you tortured them, right?”

He recalled correctly. I’d worked them personally for hours, and they preferred to die rather than give up the asshole who started this whole thing. Whoever was behind it was an asshole, but a smart one. They’d covered their tracks perfectly, leaving no obvious links between them and the two men who carried out the attack.

The thing is, I’d fucked up. In the aftermath of it all, I was distracted. Because Mikasa was at the heart of it all— It was her parents’ restaurant. Her father was the one caught trafficking young girls. And he apparently had been for a long, long time. It only came to light because one of them escaped. I got the story from her later, after I’d pried the knife she’d used to kill the two men who brutally murdered her parents in front of her, from her shaking, near catatonic body, and taken her home. They were enforcers. There was a leak in the supply thanks to Mr Ackerman’s mishap, and they had come to clean up the mess.

So by the time I’d sent someone else to sweep the scene, someone probably came in and cleaned up any evidence that pointed to the fucker behind this.

Armin looks thoughtful, “Have there been any other child trafficking incidents recently?”

“I think you would have read about it by now, if there were.”

“Considering the extreme scarcity of truly independent media right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had covered it up.”

Fury bristles within me at the insinuation that I would have covered something like this up. But I decide not to prod at it. Thankfully Armin’s smart mouth is happy to help. “Anyway, did you get in trouble with someone recently?”

I couldn’t help laughing at that.

“Ok, I guess that’s a stupid question to ask you,” he amends, grinning despite himself. “What about that idiot you waved your gun at that night at the club?”

I scowl at him, immediately anticipating his lecture. “Well, Mikasa doesn’t owe him anything. I didn’t do anything to him apart from some mild threats.”

Armin glares at me. “To a normal person, death threats of that kind are not considered mild.”

I smirk. “Galliard is exactly what you said,” I tell him. “An idiot. Not a threat.”

“What about the drug peddlers you slaughtered in Lower Sina?” I can hear the distaste that creeps into his voice.

“Has nothing to do with her.”

“None of it does, usually.”

What the fuck does that mean? It was on the tip of my tongue, but it was a pointless question. I knew exactly what he meant. I had no desire to hear it again. “I’ll get you some tea,” I tell him, standing up.

“Thanks, yeah, there’s some mint on the windowsill which you can use.”

I pluck some leaves from the pot of mint that Armin seems to have tended to quite lovingly and turn on the kettle. There are more pictures scattered all over his kitchen, taped on his cabinets and stuck to his fridge with magnets. I distract myself from the fresh reminder of Mikasa’s trauma and my past failures, with the pictures. More of him and his boyfriend— He and Jean had become a thing in college, so I didn’t know him too well, but they looked good together. He was taller than Armin, with a kind of arrogant horse-shaped face that made Armin look like an innocent little boy. It was a ruse; there was nothing innocent about Armin Arlert but the look worked well for him, helping him disarm people easily and gain their trust. And it seemed to have worked wonders on Mr Horseface. From what I’d learnt of him, he was a regular Joe, from a humble family. His dad was a truck driver and his mother worked in a bakery.

Mikasa would probably take offence at this, but I’d done some digging when I found out Mikasa went to live with them… I couldn’t have her living with just anyone without a background check.

She was there in a couple of the pictures too, some of them music gigs, some of them just drunk polaroid pics of him and her from university. She looked so fucking happy, it made my heart hurt. She looked so miserable when I left her today.

Just as I’m about to leave with our mugs, my eyes fall on yet another picture, taped to the side of the fridge. A bitter heaviness unfurls in my chest.

The day I was initiated into the mafia, my Uncle offered me a ‘brilliant’ piece of wisdom. “You’re not a boy any longer, Eren,” he said, his hand heavy on my shoulder. He was drunk and gleeful about the fact that my father had finally succumbed and decided to induct me.

“You’re a man, now.” I was too overwhelmed to respond with any enthusiasm, what with the different facets of manhood I was forced to explore that night as part of tradition. “Yeah, well I wish I wasn’t.” I hadn’t even wanted to point out that in the eyes of law, sixteen wasn’t an adult. It’s not like these men cared much for the law, anyway.

He’d laughed at me, then, unsympathetically. “Well, wishes are for little boys. There are no candles for you to blow out, nobody to listen to these ‘wishes’ and make them come true, Eren.” Before he could even finish his sentence, something else had caught his interest. A young, very made up, very underdressed something. As I averted my eyes, he said, his grin audible, “You’re a Jaeger man. Whatever you wish for is yours for the taking. Nothing can stop you.”

My uncle was a fucking idiot who loved to talk out of his ass, but for the first time in a long long while, I find myself wishing again. An irrational, utterly pointless, but burning wish to go back to the night from the picture in front of me. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the kind of wish that was ripe for my taking.

On the surface, it was an innocent picture. Three friends grinning ear-to-ear in front of an iPhone selfie camera from six years ago. Armin with his determined blue eyes, filled with ambition, Mikasa with her bangs styled in front of her forehead, lips painted red, flushed from the giddiness of the occasion. And me, before all this… just happy. Happy to be a part of this with my friends, even though I knew this was where we would part ways. It was the night of the Leaver’s Dance, where the graduating class got together for one last hurrah before they embraced adulthood.

I rip off the tape, and trace a finger over Mikasa’s face, over the cheek where she would now sport a scar. She has her arms around the both of us, cheeks smushed against each other. If you look closely enough, you can tell that I’m blushing. Now that I think of it, that’s probably how I was six years ago, blushing whenever she was close, not wanting to admit my overwhelming teenage feelings for her.

“All okay?”

Armin’s voice brings me back to the present, to the uncomfortable truth that I was no longer the boy in that picture.

“Yep,” I say, gruffly. I push my palms back onto the counter, the photo crushed underneath one of them.

Armin’s eyes drift to my hand as he reaches for the mug I was supposed to bring him. “Trip down memory lane?”

I bring my own mug to my lips with my other hand. There’s no point answering Armin sometimes. He likes to ask these questions that he already knows the answers to, likes to sound like a smartass. The Eren in the photo used to be impressed with that. (The Armin in the photo used to be less smug about it.)

“What happened that night?” He doesn’t sound smug now. He sounds softer, sympathetic even. It only irritated me further. The last thing I needed was pity for how I behaved that night.

“I’m surprised Mikasa didn’t tell you.”

He shrugs off the passive aggressiveness in my tone. “You used to tell me things too, you know.” I stare at the submerged mint leaves in my cup. He isn’t wrong; Armin was my best friend once, I used to share everything with him. But that was before I started doing things I was better off not telling anybody about.

“She said she begged you not to go.” My eyelids squeeze shut. I can literally see the scene playing out behind them. Mikasa with the hotel sheets pooled at her waist, hair mussed up from the way I’d pulled on it all night. You said you wanted to change things. I could see the tears pooling in her eyes. You don’t have to go. Stay with me, Eren. You don’t have to listen to your father—

“How come you decided to go to Marley, anyway?”

I open my eyes, but even then I can’t get her face out of my head. “You know how it is. International experience and all that. Not too different from your semester abroad.”

Armin snorts. “I went to lectures in my semester abroad. Attended World Politics seminars. I don’t think forming relationships with suppliers was on the curriculum.”

“It’s not too different, really.” Actually, my father sent me to Marley for a year to schmooze filthy-rich politicians, who were interested in buying arms from us. We used a specific kind of riot suppression gear in Paradis, that worked well with the way cities here were built. It also worked well with our mob-policed streets. And it appeared to have caught the interest of more “peaceful” nations.

“She was pretty fucked up after you left, you know.” He watches me carefully. “Back then,” he clarifies. “After high school.”

I poured the rest of my tea down the sink drain. I was in no mood to hear any of this. “Yeah, figured you’d leave. This how you turned your back on her after she told you she loved you?”

“I didn’t turn my back on her,” I said, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. “And she didn’t tell me she loved me.” Just the idea of it filled me with a sort of desperate longing.

“God, you’re really stupid, Eren.” He looks at me in disgust. “So she didn’t spell out the words for you, is that it? That’s your excuse?”

“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to be making excuses for, Armin,” I say, whipping around at him angrily. “She asked me to stay. I couldn’t because I had obligations to fulfil.” None of which felt as important as her. The words that came after made me sick as I said them. “I didn’t owe her any more than that.”

On the surface of it, I wasn’t wrong. Mikasa and I didn’t really become a thing , until much later. Until a year ago, actually. But I could see my reflection in Armin’s eyes, looking like a sad, guilty motherfucker. Now I understood why he looked at me like that, pityingly, like he couldn’t comprehend how I could be so fucking stupid. Even I felt like punching myself in the face.

MIKASA

I couldn’t sleep. Or maybe I’d slept too much. The drugs Hange had given me had knocked me out, just like Eren said it would. Vaguely I register that my surroundings are awfully familiar. After I’d passed out they’d moved me to my bedroom… what used to be our bedroom. The atrociously expensive piano he’d bought for me stood in the corner by the window, reminding me of all the times he’d ask me to play for him, and then teased me viciously until I messed up and went off-tune.

Wistfully, I wonder if it had watched over Eren this entire time that I’d been gone. I cringe as I hear myself, as if I’d been gone for a vacation, a trip to see the outside world before I’d run straight back into these gilded halls.

I feel stiff as I slipped out of bed. My clothes feel hot and uncomfortable, so I strip down to my underwear. Padding around to the walk-in closet, I stand in front of what used to be Eren’s dresser. It still was. I feel a bit guilty, intruding upon his things like this, but it feels strange being in this room this way. Without Eren. Without knowing if he’d even come back home, if he would come share this space with me like we used to. Especially after all the awful things I’d told him earlier today.

I give into temptation and reach for a white linen shirt that I see him wear for lunches sometimes. I used to think he looked handsome in it, so grown up and different from the boy I knew, now with a lazy bun behind his head and his hair swept back. I drape it around my shoulders and start to button it up. He would let me button it up for him sometimes. I don’t know if it’s my line of thought but my throat feels parched.

Stealthily, I head to the kitchen for some water. The lights are off so I guess it’s pretty late, but I still tug on the hem of the shirt as if it will magically cover more of my legs.

There’s a soft glow of a lamp coming from the kitchen and it makes me hesitate for a moment. I’d just rather avoid everyone at this moment—

“I know you’re there, Mikasa.”

I swallow. Smoothening my hair nervously, I walk in and see Eren leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of whiskey in hand. “I thought I was being quiet.”

“Saw your shadow.” The lamp casts shadows on his eyes, making them look even darker, but I can see his gaze scour the length of my body, unsmilingly.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I turn around and busy myself with filling some water in a glass. “... You’re back home late.” I try not to cringe at how wife-like my comment was.

“It was a long day,” he says quietly. I can feel his stare at my back.

“With Armin?”

“Mm-hmm.” I can hear him refilling his glass. “I went to visit one of my men’s family after.”

Suddenly he sounds so tired, defeated almost. I battle the urge to wrap my arms around him and comfort him. “Is everything okay?” I ask softly.

He lets out a clipped laugh. “I suppose, yeah. Things must be okay for him, now that he’s dead.”

“Oh my god,” I breathe, shock rushing through me as I drop my glass. It shatters in the sink. Even though I lived with him for nearly a year, I don’t think I could ever get used to the cavalier way he discusses death. It was an inevitability for everyone, but for Eren, it seemed so much more… urgent. Closer in a way. The possibility reared its head at every chance.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” I mutter, as I reach for the broken glass thoughtlessly. I hiss as it cuts the tip of my finger.

“Mikasa,” he says harshly. “Come here.”

I feel obedient and kind of silly, reacting like this in front of him and breaking his glassware. I wasn’t normally this much of a klutz. My mother raised me to be a perfectionist. But I got like this around Eren— silly, clumsy, like he knocked me off my bearings. Suckling on the tip of my index finger, I go to him. It’s a tiny cut, so apart from looking a bit red, it doesn’t hurt much. “I’m sorry about the glass,” I tell him earnestly.

Unwrapping my fingers in his hand, he surveys the damage. “Fuck the glass, Mikasa. Louise will clean up in the morning.”

I feel a creeping anxiety in my gut as I discreetly look at his clothes for any signs of blood or injury. “Are you okay?” He asks me, as if I am the one who just went to pay my respects to the family of a friend who died. “I’m okay,” I murmur. “What about you? Was there… an encounter or something?”

He shook his head. His gaze is fixed on his glass as he swirled it absent-mindedly. “No. Nothing today.” His eyes are hooded as they meet mine. “Lin was trying to guard you. The person who attacked you killed him, before he tried to shoot you.”

“ What ,” I breathe, choked. Someone died… trying to guard me? I feel sick.

“Don’t look like that,” Eren says brusquely.

I am still trying to process what he told me. “I shouldn’t look like what?”

“Like you’re telling yourself it’s your fault.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It was a job. He accepted these risks as part of it.”

He says this, but his tone is filled with remorse. He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Sounds like that’s what you’re telling yourself, though,” I tell him, softly.

He smiles a small smile, without humour. “I guess it’s different when you’re giving the orders.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, either. It was somebody else who pulled that trigger. But I don’t know how to comfort him anymore, I didn’t know if I was allowed. So I just slipped a hand across to his and squeezed his palm.

He looks up at me surprised. But he recovers quickly. “So,” he clears his throat. “... You got your room back?” He says it with a small grin, an attempt at lighter conversation.

“It was our room, wasn’t it?” Eren used to have a different one, smaller, but I’d liked this one with its large windows and its walk-in closet. So he moved his things there eventually.

He says nothing, just watches me as he sips on his whiskey. The air is thick with the awkwardness of my own doing.

“I should, uh, get back to bed,” I whisper, starting to turn when I feel him take a step closer to me.

“Do you really hate it so much?” His thumb is soft on my cheek and I am frozen in place. It feels like I’ve stopped breathing, and really, who cares, when I can feel his breath so close to mine, on my skin, seeping into my pores. His hooded gaze dips to my mouth.

I find myself licking my lips subconsciously. “What do you mean?”

“Staying with me,” he says. There’s whiskey on his lips and I can feel myself getting drunk on it even though they have barely touched me. “Just for a little while.” He smiles a sad, unhappy smile. “Before I set you free again.”

“It’s not like that,” I say, my breath raspy. He pushes a wisp of hair back behind my ears, and cups my chin. “I’m not your prisoner or something.”

“No?” He snorts derisively. “I think your friend might beg to differ.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing new.” He lifts the glass of whiskey to his lips. I watch his throat as he swallows. “Just that it’s my fault, every time you get hurt.”

Armin. I want to tear my hair out in frustration. “And you believed it?”

Eren shrugs.

“Why do you do that?” He was your friend too. “Why do you make yourself sound like this big bad guy—”

His mouth curves into a smirk. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.” His eyes darken. “Keeping you here, willing or not.”

God . I can hear the irony in what I’m saying, “... You’re not really like that, I know it.”

“I run the mob around here, Mikasa,” he says unsmilingly. Like I needed reminding. “Isn’t that why you left?”

A lump forms in my throat. I hate it when he talks this way, in absolutes, in black and white. He’ll never understand that before I saw this Eren, I saw my Eren, with his short hair and his dorky plaid shirts, lying on the grass as we stared at the blue sky together. The same one who held me after his initiation and cried because he felt lost in this world. “Eren–”

“Mikasa,” he says. This girl, Mikasa, she sounds delicious, when he says her name like that, savouring the syllables of the word, like a hungry man. It makes me shiver. “Don’t answer that question. I don’t want to hear why you left. Not again. Not tonight.”

He places the glass down on the counter, his hands on either side of me as I find myself pinned underneath his frame. God, it was so easy to find myself in this man’s embrace, it felt effortless. “I wasn’t going to,” I say, breathlessly.

Slowly, achingly, he drops a kiss to my collarbone. I can feel it in my entire body, fueling me with a slow-burning desire that made the thin linen shirt I wore feel abrasive against my hardening nipples. He places another kiss, equally slowly, equally tentative, higher on my neck. I don’t know if he’s asking for my permission or testing his own boundaries, but I give my permission regardless, angling my head to give him more access. “Is this my shirt?” He asks. I hum in agreement, along with the rest of my body. A groan of satisfaction escapes his throat, vibrating against my skin.

“I don’t have my clothes here,” I murmur as if that was an explanation for why I stood in his kitchen now, clad in a thin white shirt of his, and nothing else, barefoot and bare-thighed.

“I’ll make sure they’re brought to you.” His hands slide up the bottom hem and come to rest on my hips. Swiftly, he hoists me onto the counter. It feels sharply reminiscent of the last time he had me like this, at his club, how he spread me out against the marble counter top and lowered his head between my legs. The thought sends a jolt of heat straight to my core. “Although I don’t really mind seeing you in my shirts.”

“They’re, um—” A gasp escapes me as his thumbs skim the insides of my thigh, grazing my panties. My embarrassingly moist panties. “... Convenient,” I whisper.

His eyes widen as he probably realizes it, turning molten as they lift to mine, finally. One hand firmly gripping my thigh, he brings the other to my mouth, brushing his thumb against my bottom lip. I can smell how turned on I am, and I know he can too. “Mikasa,” he says, again, turning my insides aflame. The way he says my name, the way he looks at me, I can feel it in my bones, weak— He could’ve asked me for anything and I wouldn’t deny him. “If you want me to stop, and God, I hope you don’t, please say it now.”

I let out a shaky, breathless laugh. He’s got to be kidding. The way I felt now, I would do anything, beg on my knees for him to keep touching me like this. Wantonly, I run my fingers through his hair, clasping the loose strands on the back of his head in my hand. I leaned closer to his ear, teeth grazing his lobe as I whisper, “... Come to bed, Eren.”

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #mafia au #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #aot smut

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ali-dot-txt · 2 years

Text

ramblepost about Yunaka GO!!!! Serious spoilers follow after the cut though so WATCH OUT if you're not done with the game two months after its release

you meet Yunaka very early in the game, after you meet Veyle for the first time but just before you meet her for the second time, and the game doesn't draw direct parallels between them but it does immediately introduce you to the concept that Yunaka lies regularly and habitually, that she's trying not to do that so much anymore, and that she is not what she seems, with a map design that actively encourages you to put her in avoid+ terrain and get her crit quotes, which sound very different from the way she normally speaks.

Then (one hopes) you get her supports and bond conversations and learn more about her and you learn that she used to be an assassin, that she was raised to be a killer by a man who picked her up after she was willingly tossed aside by her parents, and that her name before she decided to become Yunaka was "Larimar."

Larimar, like every other Brodian character's name, is based on a type of precious stone, but a larimar is a much more specific concept than a sapphire or a citrine.

The name "larimar" comes from some guy in 1974 who combined his daughter's name "Larissa" with "mar," because it kind of looks like the sea. I'm not sure where the name comes from in Elyos but I really can't assume it has the same origin.

Isn't that neat?

Anyway it must be fucking wild for Yunaka to join this army to escape her past and then over time learn that the literal Divine Dragon was also raised to be a killer by a man who didn't care for them at all.

And for some reason Yunaka doesn't have supports with Veyle!? Like there's so much you can do there with the fact that both of them are trying to be better people after doing bad things in the past and how they both put up facades to hide their guilt and all that. Let me see Yunaka try to teach Veyle her coping mechanisms. Come on.

Also on reflection I think Yunaka may be my favorite pact ring recipient just because her ring-rank support and wake ups are really sweet. She's just looking for someone to be truly honest with and also ramble about weapons for hours with. God that's good.

Also this might just be because I think she's a good character but she's got total Neurodivergent Vibes with her hatred of crowds and deliberate masking with a peppy, uncomplicated facade and extreme interest and knowledge of weaponry and constant apologizing and worry that anyone who really knows her would hate her

Yunaka good. That's the post. If you expected a point to this, I'm very sorry, this was just me rambling. I did say.

#fire emblem engage #fe17 #yunaka #rambling #yunaka fire emblem

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lightningandfireinmybones · 1 year

Note

oof okay listen, i felt like in order to best understand the latest chapter I should go back and re-read ch.6 as well. i'm glad i did!

now I was originally going to comment my thots on ch.7 but as you will see it all got derailed so.. this is a love letter to my bad bitch Val Vel.

(i'll be back for Aemond cause bestie that last chapter was a huge one)

i'm adding a read more although since this is an ask idk if it will work <3

Her best friend, her most assertive protector, and she had been unforgivably absent to him for years. Running away from demons that were part of her.

yeah... ouch Val babe! And it's well established that she's not feeling that way only about Grey Ghost, or her brother, or even Aemond. It's her entire family, her complete support network that she feels like she has let down by leaving (in her mind abandoning) and now that she is back (let's not forget the circumstances of her return; under preassure from Daemon and emotional distress over Rhaenyra's health, after a life threatening situation which was half inability to care about herself and half ectively putting herself in danger) she still feels like she cannot "Do the Right thing" to not hurt her loved ones, not be a nuisance, not cause them any more grief.

the other parts of her, the ones she’d let down repeatedly.

and that's the fucking worst! if she were self assured she might have been able- better eqiupped- to handle all that stress and most importantly, find healthier ways to deal with her trauma and guilt. But now her tattered self confidence is just a mean companion. She can be self assured and make decisions for herself but she will be left in the wake of things feeling like she messed up, like she made a stupid choice (she often does). it will only feed her self hatred and fuel her self destructive/ self harming tendencies.

baby Val... ilysm. and i like to remind myself that val isnt just a person who happens to do drugs. Instead, she is struggling with substance abuse. She is experiencing the symptoms of her horrible mental state.

She’s not nearly numb enough, the lure of oblivion strong, but she pushes through.

The walls are up, she’s unfortunately sober, and she wants to escape. She wants to stop feeling like an unwanted failure.

also there's something so interesting about the way she interacts with Dalton. i think i love it because there are no expectations there from either side. she can just call him, give no explanation, not bother with niceties and small talk and just "order" him to service her in some way and he does. i think her relationship with him is in its own way the most freeing one she has atm? the most open?

there is no emotional baggage, it's clear to them both what it is, and let's not act surprised, he is also enabling her in her Sad Slay Era. the open acess to drugs, to sex, to that exact type of physical only affection that is enough to drown out everything else while simultaneously look nothing like the deeper, emotional bond and (im never beating the romantic accusations) love they shared with Aemond.

Dalton is cool, a fine mist, a spring day with a bit of heat. He is easy, a Sunday morning in, all easy confidence and cocky smiles.

Dalton is uncomplicated and looks, acts, talks, exists completely unlike Aemond. ofc she's calling him up.

[...] Each brush of his tongue, each nip of his teeth is pleasant, but not exhilarating.

bet. i love how every thing she does to dalton is somehow mirrored in a reverse order in her memories. like she does to him what was done to her. as a way to return to those moments safely while not being in the physical position to be reminded of aemond? since they were opposites maybe the way to distance herself from what she felt with him is to act like him? idk idk... there's sth too important hapenning here and im too dumb to put it into words but bestie you slayed!

The flashbacks Val has are devastating and i hate you for them!

“You don’t give me orders,” Aemond growls, slamming her back into the wall. “I am in control here, Valaena. Never forget that.”

which is ofc followed by a "show of dominance" from Val. baby girl... intrusive thoughts are H A R D to deal with.

Maybe Im talking out of my ass but!

in her past Aemond had been controlling and assertive and dominant and whichever other synonym we can use BUT it was in a way that she explicitly enjoyed. It was a known, well established thing between them and was safe for her to explore with him.

I feel like once you drop the chapter where we see precicely what happened between them it will all make sense and just click together so nicely.

because im getting the vibes (i may be way off here) that the issue was that due to their shared trauma and childhood together, and since they clearly loved each other, as well as being each other's first AND a family member on top of that AND a safe haven from everything going on in their lives AND SINCE Val was well aware of Aemond's struggles what with his father and whatnot, she -at some point- / -probably due to aemond pushing too hard- started feeling a tad unsafe by this. or even better, insecure.

let's go with Insecure actually. because i feel like at some point the balance they had established, how they were equals in their relationship kinda shifted in a way? maybe she felt like her choice was being taken away ? (especially if aemond does end up pushing about free sex and tries to explore his breeding kink). Poor Val is scared of pregnancies and also they are extremely young!

so perhaps she made herself feel guilty for not being able to cater to precicely every need aemond had, especially when it felt good to do so, when it was pleasurable for her and worked as a bonding thing for them. that and the fact that it probably was legitimately sth that she did not fully vibe with at her age, it made her feel guilty and bad for not being able to set that boundary since to an extent it probably felt like a betrayal to Aemond??

and to actually leave him? go away for years? while knowing that she loves him and wants to be with him except for something that we dont yet know having happened between them. it was an extreme choice maybe? we have yet to find out. But whatever it may be it was definitely a hard decision and definitely cost her a lot but seemed as the best choice at the time.

but now she has to deal with the hurt and damage that choice left her with and bestie she's not doing okay!

“I think I like this assertive side of you,”

and val immediately thinks of her "sin" against aemond. how in the past this assertiveness has backfired and was used by her to betray and hurt him and in her words "fuck him over"

Baby you are unwell! it's okay. take deep breaths!

[...] like no more than an errant task to check off his to-do list. He said he’d always want her, but who would want her, the way she was? Always telling her what she wanted to hear.

yes yes.. I'm a burden. I'm a bad person. Nobody loves me. They are only lying to placate me.

OOOOOFFFFFF. hard to return from that imma tell you that much

“Is this what you want, Valaena? You want me to control everything, down to the air you’re breathing?” Aemond whispers, searching her face. “Yes,” she chokes out, the word hanging in the air between them like a curse or a vow.

no i am normal about this. my felling are quite "meh" about those lines i dont understand what you're talking about. coudn't care less if i tried honestly.

curse or vow. Quite the choice of words. Quite the contradicting meanings. it's almost like someone who say it both ways and felt strongly about both those words would have a bad time trying to rationalise it in their mind and deal with the emotional side of it.

(I HATE YOU BESTIE WHY MUST YOU BE AN AUTHOR WHO USES WORDS THAT MAKE ME F E E L T H I N G S!!!)

[...] he’d no doubt leave her after realizing she wasn’t coming back.

Hm... are thoughts of abandonment something you deal with regularly miss?

also aemond looked hot on the stairs.. no smartsy comment. just that he looked hot. thank you for your service ma'am

Shame, a different kind than had diffused her this morning, warms her cheeks. Criston had called ahead while she’d been waiting in the car. Now her brother could be disappointed in her too.

i am mentally well. i am again normal about this.

[...] You’re a fucking disaster, Valaena.” “You think I don’t know that?” She says indignantly.

“You think I don’t know that?”

Dread surges through her. She can imagine it: her mother’s contrived tears, Daemon’s white knuckled grip, the disappointment on both of their faces. She can see a news headline, something about the party princess, another round of infamy for their family.

“Don’t tell them.” [...] The humiliation she brings on herself never stops.

she needs help yes. when you're feeling this badly about yourself that you see yourself as a disaster, a sidappointment, someone who only hurts, harms, lets down, puts in danger their loved ones, when you feel like it cannot possibly get any better it can't stop (and usually one feels that way about themselves way before anyone else notices) hearing someone out of concern say it aloud, put it into words, call you out on it feels only as a confirmation of what you already knew.

yes dread, yes humiliation. now that they see her as she truly is surely they will hate her as much as she hates herself and since she is solely a burden they will let her go.

Val my most beloved! <3 <3 <3

A sunny smile on her face, Valaena ends the Facetime, throws her phone on the counter, and proceeds with her skincare routine, finally satisfied.

Finally satisfied, after taking back control. ilhsm! perfect way to end this chapter bestie, truly as always a work of art!!

bestie this is such a thorough analysis i honestly cannot being to express my gratitude that you spent this kind of time on my brain rot bc you are SHOWING OFF THAT GRAD SCHOOL MIND, thesis level work thank u

this chapter was really supposed to send valaena to rock bottom and have a series of painful realizations,,, can't fix what you don't want to admit is broken:')

and yes dalton and valaena are written that way because dalton is both enabler and symptom relief, a little bit of a stress ball where valaena can work out her feelings with no expectations

and BESTIE i cannot wait for you to read the chapters of their last interactions, i have to know your thoughts on it when we get there lmaooo

and thank you bestie, i'll be honest, the curse or vow line was one i was v proud of so i'm glad it landed right lmfao, i like this idea of the heaven/hell, only two absolutes possible for aemond and valaena, and curse (a haunting, a loss, a feeling of fear) or vow (a promise, a light, a reason to be) is what they could be to each other, in every situation

this chapter was brought to you by the soul-crushing song "the archer" by taylor swift, where we get to explore terrifying self-hatred and doubt, applied liberally to our girl valaena

valaena is not easy to satisfy, double entendre intended, so i wanted to give her at least one win this chapter lmfao

but pls thank you for this!!! these anaylsis and long comments are honestly so meaningful and motivations, they make me feel like a real author:')v v grateful, thank you bestie

SALIVATING for your thoughts on the aemond chapter omg i could read your analysis on anything

#bestie i am not crying at all there's just something in my eye #thank you queen #and you nailed it:')#ask #heaven knows fic

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babsvibes · 2 years

Note

Hey If you don’t mind if I ask what was the inspiration for your story

It’s my party and I’ll fry if I’ll want to

Like the plot line or the character dynamic’s etc

AND AND Like WHY couldn’t Louise see that she’s in LOVE with Logan!!!!!

I absolutely don’t mind and in fact am thrilled that you want to know more about this piece! Thank you for asking!

It’s My Party (and I’ll fry if I want to): Rated E. “From the way the chairs on either side of her remain empty to the way the bartender—whose name she can’t bother to remember—never stays too long in her corner, Louise determines they’re all scared of the woman who mutters to herself while tearing paper label after paper label.”

The important thing about this story, no matter the inspiration, is that Louise, Logan, and Rudy ALL needed to be shown as complicated individuals, sympathetic and not at the same time, or none of it would have mattered. There is no completely right or wrong answer to life, and shit is messy in It’s My Party.

The inspiration for the character dynamics is actually a pretty uncomplicated answer! I asked “what would happen if I cranked these characters flaws up to 11” and then boom. Done. I wrote a few more notes on this on chapter two of this fic. As for the inspiration for the piece itself?

I won’t lie to you, this started as spite fic. It was only supposed to be the first scene in the bar, and Louise was originally going to leave with Logan then and there. I was in a place where I was tired of seeing Logan written as a villain, but never… in character? So, in the way that Linda explains how to throw a shrimp, I said “That’s not how you write Logan as a villain. THIS is how you write Logan as a villain.”

But then it… evolved? I sat down to write and just more and more things poured out until I realized I couldn’t write a spite fic, nor did I ever really want to. I had something more nuanced I wanted to say. Something that was meaningful—to me at least. And when you’re dealing with nuance, there’s not room for a Good Guy and a Bad Guy.

It also probably isn’t all that surprising that this is a… deeply personal story. Deeply personal, but also a story shared by a lot of people—usually women but not always. When you grow up being told that the way you think and act is in some way inherently wrong by institutions (for me, it was my family, my religion, my community), it’s not something you can shrug off. And sometimes you unfortunately start playing a part that isn’t right for you because maybe it’s supposed to make things “easier,” maybe it’s supposed to be “good.” And also, sometimes, it starts manifesting as self-hatred.

As an outsider, it’s easy to look at Louise’s situation and think “man… she really needs to leave Rudy,” but that undermines that she does love him and him needing her is going to mean something. Yes, she loves Logan too, but the theme of “love” isn’t what’s pulling the most strings (even though, yes, it definitely should be a focus, and that’s one of the reasons this story happens in the first place).

The relationship between Want and Need ends up playing a much bigger role. Louise may know she wants Logan but she is too disconnected from herself to be able to tell what she needs. Aren’t there some pieces of you that have wanted to be needed? Being needed is like being handed a purpose on a silver platter, and that’s hard to turn down even if it’s draining every last ounce of your spirit. This coincides with Logan and Rudy’s feelings towards her. Logan says it flat out at one point, “I want you, but he needs you.” That contraction with the “but” is meant to imply that the reverse is also true. Logan doesn’t need Louise and Rudy doesn’t want her. Or, at least, that’s how they’re presenting themselves. How is Louise supposed to be able to tell which is more valuable when she’s already so disconnected? Why does each one come with a catch?

And that’s how you get a story like It’s My Party.

Anyway, I’m just now realizing you may have wanted to know the answer behind this specific plot (ie: Louise and Rudy are in an unhappy relationship when her ex Logan moves back into town). It felt like the best way to explore closure and unmet needs by having these contrasting separations (physical and emotional) pulling Louise in different directions and confusing her.

Also, straight up, if I can be real with you… the idea of finally taking what you want even when it’s wrong is hot 🔥

#babsbles #asks #my fic writing #meta? in my angsty fanfic? more likely than you think #thank you so much for asking this is honestly one of my favorite pieces

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acourtofthought · 2 years

Note

How do you feel about Feyre saying, “why not make them mates” “why Lucien?”

I feel like it’s used as a way to say that Sarah intends to end with E/riel.

To me I’ve always seen Feyre as an unreliable narrator, and I find Sarah uses that tactic consciously and purposefully.

Her assumptions are often wrong, they’re almost immediately contrasted by what happens on page. I think if anything, when you go into a first person POV, you should assume their biases make them an unreliable narrator.

Examples that are argued about a lot:

In ACOTAR, in her state, she believed that Nesta and Elain both paraded as if the people in town were a second grade social circle, but then immediately Nesta and Elain speak of Tomas Mandray with excitement and endearment, or that Clare Beddor was actually a close friend to Nesta. It seems they do try to be social and don’t hold themselves at any higher of a rate than them.

Feyre saying that her sisters were no help (they weren’t in a lot of ways), but by the end we see that Nesta did chop the wood, she did try to get Feyre back, she did actually ask her family for handouts when they fell poor, it seems she was comparing their strengths unfairly. Even Feyre admits she’s wrong when she sees that Nesta dropped Tomas solely because she knew he wouldn’t help her get Feyre back, that was a line in the sand. “But she had cared, and perhaps loved more fiercely than I could comprehend, more deeply and loyally”.

In ACOSF, when people don’t understand why the inner circle seems, “out of character”, I don’t agree with that. Feyre’s POV of the IC, is going to be biased, in turn our own as well. Both she and Rhysand made poor choices, and we all didn’t feel the wrongness of it, because their actions always worked out for them, benefitted them. When we switch to Nesta’s POV, we see that their actions aren’t always good for others as it is for them. Which is fine, I quite like seeing flaws in otherwise loveable characters.

It’s safe to assume, at least in my opinion, that Feyre chose to question Elain and Az’s partnership, because she assumes thats what would be best. It’s easy to connect that not only does Feyre underestimate Elain, but also coddles her, she’s constantly thinking of things that would ease Elain’s life, make it uncomplicated.

It’s all perspective bias, what I’m interested in, and what I’m excited to see, is what Elain’s POV is on this. It’s the only one that matters when it comes to what she wants/ needs. It’s easy for Feyre, and then Nesta, to make assumptions without having all the information, it doesn’t make any of their thoughts gospel.

I definitely agree that Feyre, as well as all the other characters can be unreliable narrators when it comes to how they themselves perceive someone else. Especially when their opinion of that character is somehow tied into a feeling they have within themselves. For example......Nesta often thought the absolute worst of Feyre at the start of SF. That Feyre was trying to control her and she was only putting an end to her drinking and gambling because she was embarrassed. By the end of SF, however, Nesta (no longer blinded by her own self hatred), was able to realize that Feyre loved her all along and had never stopped looking out for her. It's no different than Feyre's perception of Elain. She's somehow always surprised by Elain's one liners or hearing her laugh at a joke, seeing her do something brave, etc. Because Feyre has always struggled to see her clearly (and as a result a lot of anti's have now drawn the conclusion that Elain enjoys being coddled and is dimwitted) so it comes as a surprise to her when Elain is just being the Elain she's always been. Elain isn't suddenly a comedian. She's not suddenly wise. Feyre just has not fully seen beneath the quiet exterior Elain tends to have up around her two sisters. Not that I'm completely blaming Feyre for that, all the sisters are different people around their friends than they are family. I just mean to say that Feyre doesn't speak for Elain, she doesn't really understand what Elain needs or wants and only Elain can tell us that. Feyre, at that time, was also extremely new to the world of the Fae, Mates, etc. She understands her own mating bond but doesn’t really understand all the ins and outs of Mating Bonds in general. So she’s curious, she’s asking questions, and that’s good. But her thinking out loud and voicing a question doesn’t mean she’s any sort of authority to say what would be best for anyone. All she sees, this sister who likes to fix everything for everyone right away, is that Elain isn’t running into Lucien’s arms and she and Az are cool just chilling with one another. Uncomplicated, like you said. Because that’s what she wants for everyone, easy and settled. Especially when she’s struggling with severe guilt for everything that went down with the Cauldron. Wouldn’t it be nice if she found a quick and happy solution for everyone involved so she can feel a little less terrible about everything? As far as her discussion with Rhys, “Why not make them mates?” I think that’s way too obvious to end up happening. It’s just my opinion but that would be like SJM having Feyre telling us about the Night Sky on her dresser drawer and dreaming that maybe her future husband will someday like the stars too. The foreshadowing that has been in the book (discounting Elain’s visions which are more literal) has always been something that only made sense after the fact. When you first read it, you were unable to understand what it meant at the time because it seemed unimportant or you thought it was referring to someone else (i.e. Stay with the High Lord).

The information may have been included for other reasons. Maybe it will relate to Mor and Eris and we’ll see a rejected bond through them. Maybe it was put out there so we would have some understanding of what might have happened between Helion and the LOA. But I definitely don’t think Feyre developed prophetic abilities and predicted an E/riel endgame. It’s also worth noting that since that discussion, she’s never mentioned Az and Elain coupled off again. A random comment Feyre made when we know she doesn’t really understand who Elain is and who she will eventually become is not enough for me to believe in. Like you said, the only opinion that matters in who Elain will end up with is Elain’s.

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archer3-13 · 1 year

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I mentioned how i dont feel gundam 0079 and gundam seed comparisons quite work for me. for all that 0079 is the better show and for all that seed calls back to 0079 they're both aiming for different things at the end of the day and i figured out why it bugs me because theres actually a better point of comparison for where seed goes wrong thats also in the uc timeline.

0083 stardust memories

both are stories that open with a gundam jacking, where a rivalry between two characters becomes centre stage and where thematic elements of their stories heavily lean on the idea of the senselessness of war how it breeds hatred that clouds judgment, and importantly on how that hatred perpetuates war [because theres always one last fight and one last grudge that needs to be settled].

where 0083 comparatively succeeds however i would say is that

a] its protagonist kou has a more interesting arc of progression to his story despite ultimately being a rather flat character overall like kira is. a part of that is that kou is better able to sell the idea of clueless innocence as his starting point compared to kira [despite kou starting with way more piloting experience and being military from the start comparatively]. both character arcs ultimately rely on this aspect for things to go down the way they do, but kira also has a lot of that amuro ego and resentfulness thrown in as well which makes it difficult to fully buy into the idea of corrupting innocence going on. kou by comparison well often desiring to prove himself is more easily believable as this uncomplicated jelly baby because he lacks that ego and resentfulness even when acting in selfish manners [the goku effect]. the other part of that i think is cause 0083 throws kou into a lot of situations that challenge him on an emotional and psychological level more deeply then they do kira. dude has no obligation or particular reason to try and spare people but in earlier portions of 0083 he does try on a couple of occasions most notably with kelly, and they ultimately blow up in his face. and comparatively when he does forsake that potential peaceful resolution and pursues vengeance on cima... it also blows up in his face because cima was working to stop the drop at that point. Kira by comparison only ever spares people when he firmly has the upper hand in combat, and he tends to just get to do what he wants to do to the point you arguably live or die in the narrative by his hand.

b] the people all involved in this aren't completely asshat morons and the narrative pretty firmly shifts the attention away from the ideological struggle onto the personal stakes and costs of the war in 0083. even delaz despite being the asshole who decided that blowing up the earth with another colony was a great idea shows a palatable trepidation over his actions and grief in regards to his motivations. gato never really questions why hes doing what hes doing in an irony so thick you can cut it with a knife, but he does questions the methods involved and displays the most visible frustrated mourning as if determined to just find a good place to die well tricking himself through blind ideology. cima's a whole mess of self hatred and self interest abandoned by all the powers involved so she no longer cares about anything then securing her own safety followed begrudgingly by a twisted care for her own soldiers. Hell the only truly monstrous individuals we see in the narrative... are bask om and jamitov in their pre zeta cameos taking advantage of the mess to expand their own power and ideology. gundam seeds conclusion is predicated on a bunch of extremist idiots trying to commit genocide, of which the one with the vaguely sympathetic reason for wanting to do so is still demonized to hell and back and no consideration is really put into how everyone got to this point and just on making sure there's still a human race left. also rau manipulates everything behind the scenes for frost brother like reasons without nearly any of the charisma of the frost brothers.

#gundam

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peculiarlylost · 3 years

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Amberprice Fanfic Compilation

To whom it may concern,

I've been felling quite shitty lately and nostalgia is the only thing keeping me breathing, therefore I'll be providing you the best Amberprice fanfic recommendation you didn't ask for.

Previous warnings before you proceed: a. Amberpricefield it's not my cup of tea, so you won't find any here; b. This was made completely based on my own literaly taste (don't come for me if you hated it all); c. I've been struggling with keeping my focus for long periods of time, that's why you won't find a lot of multichapter works here. I'm really sorry, but a long history requires a lot of brain cells and I've burned them all lately; d. Huge thanks for all the amazing authors who wrote this pieces, you've been doing Gods work; e. Fell free to recommend all types of Amberprice fanfic that I missed out. I've made this thinking that someone could be felling as shitty as I'm felling right now and could use some escape from reality to help cope with everything else.

START OF THE LIST

1. Buried Childish Qualities by Scorpion_Queen (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196012/chapters/66428533) Amberprice + Summer Camp = pure nostalgia. This fanfic fells like those endless summer nights where you would stay up until dawn doing absolutely nothing simply cause you could. It reminds me a little bit of "Looking for Alaska" by John Green which only added for the nostalgia felling.

2. Castles in the Air by Scorpion_Queen (https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161673/chapters/45544687) When I started my marathon of reading Amberprice Fanfic until my eyes stopped working, something that really pissed me of was the over-the-top romanticization of Chloe and Rachel. For me, the beauty in their characters was the visible flaws, that's what made them "touchable". No one is completely good or bad (except Mark Jefferson, fuck him), and this author understood beautifully this assignment. Definelly a must read if you like the nuances of their relationship. Chloe and Rachel are actually Chloe and Rachel in this one.

3. Slumber Party Rules by Scorpion_Queen (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055220) At this point you must think that I'm in love with Scorpion_Queen. Well, you're completely correct! It's been a while since I loved so much an authors work that I wasted long hours reading all their pieces. I couldn't thank Scorpion enough for that. Basically, this one shot involves a game of truth or dare from Max pov. It was very interesting seeing how other characters interpret the relationship between Chloe and Rachel.

4. Coward by Mogatrat (https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067531) Smut + Angst = pain. I'm a huge simp for authors that shows the ambiguous relationship between them. It's a very quick read, ideal for poop time (that's me trying to be funny).

5. Every Move Just for Herself by Mogatrat (https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923051) Mogatrat do a FINE job when the business is Smutt + Angst. Also, the internalized homophobia is *chief kiss*. This is a very quick read, so you know...

6. Pink Bubblegum by Danganphobia (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155687) This one just fells like home. It's the type of reading that just fells right, you know? It's easy and uncomplicated. Do you remember how I said it that i hated over-the-top romanticization of Chloe and Rachel? Well, my hatred does not apply to this one. HAPPY ROMCOM AU Y'ALL. Just accept this gift without further explanation.

7. Yours by craashintome (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13210812) Another gift without further explanation. HAPPY ROMCOM AU Y'ALL!

8. Strawberry by Danganphobia (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627669) Here's the thing: after a while, reading fanfic and pretending that the real world is a mirage got me quite happily alienated. Therefore, that's my excuse for all the fluffy one shots in a role. So, you know, enjoy yourself :)

9. Notice Me by lunargrrrl (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505091) The format of this one fells like a poem. Honestly, I never thought that something like this would captivate me at all, but it definely did. Pleasant surprise to say at least.

10. So, You're a Fatalist Then? by Dandybear (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434655) After I read this one, it took me a while to read another Amberprice Fanfic. I have this theory that most of us reads to live a life that do not belong to us. We have the privilege to simply escape. And I loved to escape the fact that Chloe and Rachel never left Arcadia Bay. This piece reminded me what actually happened.

11. Can't Complain About Much These Days by breezered (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13267965) Do you remember the cutscene in the end of Before The Storm where Chloe paints her hair completely blue? Well, I hope you do, because Rachel helps her out in this one. Believe me when I tell you that you need a little bit of fluffy after the last one.

12. Please Don't Be My Valentine by Ghost_In_The_Hella (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082052) Conversation Hearts by Ghost_In_The_Hella (https://archiveofourown.org/works/29562945) No need to call me Santa or, in this case, Cupid (ba dun tss). Valentine's Day Special y'all!

13. Tonight I'll Lie Awake, Felling Empty by orphan_account (https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583376) If there was a Life is Strange Before the Storm part II, this piece would definely be a part of the plot. If you need more persuasion to read this masterpiece, I will leave you with this quote: "For Rachel, who doesn't believe in past regrets, it will probably be like it never happened."

14. Alright in the Evening (Baby With You) by breezered (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13214394) That's the euphoric felling that Rachel tried to describe to Chloe the night after the play, where everything is possible and running away is the easiest thing in the entire world. This piece fells light.

15. And the Forest Burned (You See Smoke) by breezered (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153557) This one destroyed me in the most beautiful way possible. I've been staring at my computer screen for a embarassing amount of time trying to describe how this made me fell so I can indoctrinate you to also read it, but I'm failing horribly. Do you know that book that list 1001 things you have to do before dying? Well, if I've written that book, reading this fanfic would be one of those things. If that's not enough for you, stay with this GENIUS quote: "No, loving Rachel Amber doesn’t kill you. It never burns out, not really. Her absence doesn’t make the fire fade or dwindle, it stokes it and stokes it until the passion and the heat from loving a ghost burns you up and leaves you empty. You spend every second of every day painfully loving Rachel Amber until there’s nothing left for you to give, no more energy and no more attention." (I'm also in love with breezered. What can I say? I'm a whore).

16. The Way You Kiss me (Will Work Every Time) by breezered (https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343250) This author is just *chief kiss*.

17. Gone by orphan_account (https://archiveofourown.org/works/16579007) I've never seen a single soul in this Earth that doesn't love Smut + Angst. Have fun kiddos :)

END OF THE LIST

#max caulfield #amberprice #life is strange #rachel amber #chloe price #arcadia bay #fanfic #smut #women loving women #bts angst #maxine caulfield #victoria chase #kate marsh #nathan prescott #lis bts #life is strange fandom #life is strange before the storm #life is strange spoilers #chasefield

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

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nine ladies dancing -> nine hockeys dancing | j. benn

a/n: i know christmas was two days ago, but 2020 isn’t real so here’s day 9. rest of the series linked here.

word count: 2,799

warnings: single!dad jamie, a very absent mother figure, some cute dancing.

“You want what?”

Jamie sighed, covering his skate blades before dropping them into their designated spot in his stall, all part of his routine that was so practiced and rehearsed he didn’t have to think about anything before he did it. He thrived in the routine of it all, as much routine as he could get at the rink because when he got home, all semblance of a routine went out the window for the dark-haired little girl in pigtails on the background of his phone, sitting in his lap. She was five now, joyful and gap-toothed and as perfect as she’d been to him the day he knew that he was going to be her dad. She was his pride and joy, the only thing that when the sun set everyday, no matter where he was, mattered. It was him and her and he’d do anything to keep her smiling, including ask his teammates to sacrifice a little of their time and a lot of their pride for her.

“Lottie’s nervous about her recital for dance,” Jamie repeated himself slowly and steadily. “She’s scared she’s going to mess it up if she doesn’t practice in front of people who aren’t just her dad as she says, so I was hoping some of you might be willing to drop by the house later to give her an audience? I know it’s a lot to ask for this time of year.”

Some of the younger guys bristled a little at the idea of giving up a prized free Friday night in Dallas without a team commitment the following day to watch Charlotte Benn dance as well as a five-year-old could perform The Nutcracker. Other teammates smiled with experienced and well-knowing understanding, having similar experiences in their own past, and standing up in front of the team to ask for something for their families. Jamie hated asking, but he asked more than anyone else. He hated asking now, especially this close to Christmas where people wanted to be with their families most of all, even though Jamie Benn hated Christmas these days.

“What time do you want me?” left Tyler’s mouth so much more easily than the call for help had left Jamie’s moments before. “Who else is coming?”

Jamie’s calls for help were always answered in this room, a gift he never expected to receive but now couldn’t imagine his life without the people in this room. Especially as hands went up, along with a disjointed but beautiful chorus of, “I’m in,” and, “Me too,” fell from his teammates mouths, Jamie couldn’t stop the grateful smile from forming on his face. The support fell over Jamie’s shoulders in a way that reminded him of the way his mom would pull his heavy, puffy winter coat over his shoulders before sending him outside back home in Victoria ages ago, back when he thought his life was going to be simpler than it was, back when he thought he would follow the traditional order. Grow up, get a good job, find a wife, get married, have a few kids, and live happily ever after in a blissful, peaceful, uncomplicated, adult world. To be fair, Jamie had done most of that, but after Charlotte was born, she left them both, wiping her hands of him and her daughter without a thought of how cruel it really was to leave your child who hadn’t even seen a full year of life the day before her first Christmas.

Jamie hated her for a lot of things now. One of the many things was that she made him hate Christmas and hating Christmas just wasn’t ever in Jamie Benn’s plans. But he had to pretend he didn’t hate Christmas, or her for that matter, because Charlotte deserved to get to be happy and unburdened by her father’s hatred or her mother’s lack of desire to be her mother. So, Jamie Benn loved Christmas, as long as you didn’t look too deep into his eyes where the pain rested as he lied about how excited he was for it.

Still, Jamie painted that smile on his face when he answered the door covered in the most basic Christmas wreath Jamie could get away with to see more of his teammates than he imagined standing behind it. Tyler led the group, big smile and a flower for Charlotte in hand, an attempt to maintain his title as her favorite uncle. Dicky and Guri seemed to have been pulled into this by Tyler, but were happy to have come along probably under the promise that Jamie might just join her for a terrible dance or two, terrible because of Jamie not Charlotte. The girl dad crew, as the shirts one of them had gotten them for the start of the season said, Comeau, Dowling, and Klinger, were all right behind them, and Bishop tagged along as well. The only true surprise was Rads, who despite being a dad himself, only had boys and wasn’t exactly a ballet sort of honorary uncle, but Tyler Seguin could make people do a lot of things for his very deserving niece and he’d put his mind to giving her the biggest audience possible.

The smile relating to Christmas itself might have been fake, but the gratitude Jamie felt to his teammates for stepping up on short notice brought a real one to his face in place of the fake one. His smile carried over as Tyler made a beeline for Charlotte who was standing in the living room, with all the furniture pushed to the walls, in her tutu and a gapped-tooth grin on her face. Tyler scooped her up easily, setting her on his hip and offering her the flower in one smooth motion.

“For me?” Charlotte asked him, her little hands already reaching for it.

“Of course it’s for you, Miss Charlotte,” Tyler smiled back at her as he placed it gently into her waiting hands. “There are no other pretty ballerinas around who deserve flowers.”

“You’d make a pretty ballerina, Uncle Tyler,” Charlotte told him with her eyes trained on her flower.

Jamie funneled past them and into the kitchen to grab a vase for it, the one Charlotte had decorated with her handprints in preschool. Jamie kept everything, every ornament, every macaroni art, every card, every little thing Charlotte made. He had bins of stuff by now, but he was more than content to buy more bins and fill his basement with everything she made. He rotated what was on the fridge weekly. This week, his fridge doors were full of various glittery Christmas artwork from school. Glitter rained on the floor every time he opened it. Jamie didn’t mind in the slightest.

Charlotte was charming his teammates with her dimpled smile when Jamie came back into the living room, vase with water in hand. He knelt down next to her and offered her the vase to slide her flower into. Taking it from her would lead to tears, but letting her put it in the vase she made herself eliminated that possibility. Jamie sat the flower in its vase next to the speakers and pulled up the soundtrack for her recital on his phone.

“Okay, you ready, Lottie?”

Jamie’s question caused his teammates to settle themselves around the room. Tyler took the floor in front of Bish and patted the ground next to him for Jamie. He started the music, then made his way to his spot, slumping down onto the floor while Charlotte fussed with her dance costume and shuffled her feet on the floor. Jamie could hear her counting softly under her breath and see her foot loosely tapping to the beat. Jamie didn’t know a thing about dance, but he had seen Charlotte practicing enough to know she’d missed when she was supposed to come in and was just staring at her shoes instead.

“You okay, honey?” Jamie asked her softly.

“I’m nervous, Daddy,” she mumbled in reply, fingers fussing with her tutu. “I don’t want to dance alone.”

Before Jamie could even begin to stand, Tyler was up on his feet and reaching for Charlotte’s small hands. She sheepishly held onto a few of his fingers.

“Would it help if Uncle Tyler danced with you?” he asked her softly, head ducked down to be level with her. “That way, you won’t be doing it alone.”

“But you don’t know the moves,” Charlotte mumbled, eyes trained on the grain of the hardwood as Tyler swung their conjoined hands back and forth to try and cheer her up.

Tyler laughed as he spoke, “Uncle Tyler can manage just fine, with a little help from some friends?”

Jason Dickinson was up on his feet without another word, with Guri hot on his heels and Klinger right behind him. Bishop might have been flexible, but dancing wasn’t exactly his forte. He still rose to his feet to join everyone else who was gathering around Charlotte. Tyler reached out and grabbed Rads’ forearm, seeing as he hadn’t moved yet, and yanked him into the crowd.

“Daddy!” Charlotte called out from his spot among his teammates, hidden from view. “Come dance too!”

Jamie really, really wasn’t a dancer. Jamie wasn’t a lot of things. He wasn’t the most bold sort of guy, preferring to stay inside of his comfort zone most of the time. He was a good captain, but not by being outspoken. He led quietly by example. Jamie wasn’t the guy who ever thought he’d be a single dad. Hell, sometimes Jamie thought he was the guy who was going to be relegated to the fun uncle role for his entire life before Charlotte was born. Jamie wasn’t the guy who ever thought he’d need other people like he needed people now, like he needed his friends to make his daughter feel comfortable enough to practice for her dance recital, a sentence Jamie never thought would be among his list of concerns in life, because he always thought his ex-wife would be there to help and could handle this sort of thing he was particularly bad at.

Most of all, Jamie never thought he’d hate Christmas, but he truly couldn’t wait for December 26th to come and for that godforsaken tree tucked in the corner that reminded him of everything he wasn’t, everything that he’d failed at, to go back into its box, for his daughter to be doing normal ballet recitals instead of ones of the Christmas variety, for everything to stop reminding him of the holiday he used to love. Still, Jamie rose to his feet from the floor and restarted the music, ready to sway as poorly to it as he did, because Charlotte had asked him to, like doing it didn’t make his chest ache and his head spin as he remembered that life he was supposed to have but never would.

Tyler was the best worst dancer of the bunch, attempting to spin when Charlotte did, arms over his head doing his best impression of a five-year-old doing her best impression of a real ballerina. Jamie just swayed a little to the music, feet shuffling side to side. Rads was trying his hardest to be The Grinch, but it was increasingly hard to do with their teammates making fools of themselves for the sake of Charlotte Benn, Guri finding himself in the air courtesy of Jason and being spun like a top. John was swaying with admiration on his face, seeing this as his future with his own little girl. Charlotte’s giggle was drowning out a lot of the music. Rads ended up slow dancing with Tyler after a fight about which of them was actually right to lead. The fight lasted all of four second before Radulov took charge and started leading Tyler around the living room. Comeau and Dowling were swaying together, giving Jamie supportive looks because they understood what seeing her laughter meant to him on a level others didn’t.

The only thing that dulled the ache in his chest was Charlotte’s laughter. She loved Christmas still, something Jamie would never try to take from her. He didn’t want to pass any of his resentment and anger down to her like a tradition that should’ve died years ago. It would die with him. Jamie was determined to make it so.

His teammates doing their best attempts at ballet meant for five-year-olds to The Nutcracker soundtrack with the fire crackling in the background was a pretty good way to make sure all Charlotte remembered from his Christmas was love and joy. Jamie scooped her up as the song ended, causing a fit of giggles to pour from her mouth.

“You did so good, peanut!” Jamie tickled her a little as he spoke, heightening her giggles. “So good, right guys?”

The chorus of approvals and cheers from his teammates made Charlotte's smile wide impossibly more.

“I think I’m going to do so good tomorrow at the re-re-recital,” Charlotte stuttered a bit as she spoke. The word recital was a difficult one for her. “Uncle Tyler should join. He’s a good dancer.”

“Not as good at you, Miss Charlotte,” he assured her, ruffling her hair a little and making her giggle again in Jamie’s arms.

Charlotte carried the smile she grew that evening with her all the way through to her recital the next day. Jamie dropped her off early, as he always did, and took his seat in the audience among the other eagerly waiting parents. He managed to find a prized seat at the end of the aisle, where Charlotte might actually have a chance at spotting him from the stage.

“Is the seat next to you taken?”

Jamie lifted his eyes from his phone to see you standing there, coffee in hand despite it being seven at night two days before Christmas. You were beautiful and Jamie wondered who you were here with. He wasn’t able to make most dance practices or parent events, so he didn’t have a good idea of who you might be even though it made him feel like a worse dad for not knowing.

“Your Charlotte’s dad, right?” you asked him after clearing your throat.

“Uh, yeah,” Jamie mumbled as he scrambled to his feet to let you get by and take the seat next to him. He dropped back into his seat when you did. “How’d you guess?”

“Well, she looks just like you,” you told him. “But also, figured you had to be the hot single dad everyone talks about in the moms’ group chat.”

Jamie threw his head back and laughed, “The moms’ group chat talks about how I’m hot?”

“Shhhh,” you shushed him softly. “Don’t rat me out as the source of that information though. You’ll get me kicked out of the chat and that chat is the only source of entertainment I have in my life that doesn’t involve a five-year-old.”

Jamie nodded and put a hand over his heart, “Your secret is safe with me. Promise.”

“Better be, or I’ll have to kill you,” you joked, drawing another laugh that caused him to tip his head back and shift his hand over his stomach as he laughed with his whole body.

As he came down from his laughter, the lights began to dim around you to signal the start of the show. You watched as various moms slipped into the aisle, phones outstretched, to record the show. You shook your head softly. The studio always recorded the show and sent it to all the parents after, and you were partial to watching her dance with your own eyes rather than through your screen.

“Gonna get out there?” Jamie whispered to you.

“Their teacher will send out the recording,” you shrugged. “I’d rather watch it.”

“Finally,” Jamie sighed, voice heavy with relief, “someone else gets me.”

“Maybe we should sit together at more of these,” you suggested to him as the lights went dark. “Single parents who don’t believe in watching the recital through their phones.”

Normally, especially now when trees stood in people’s living rooms and wreaths hung on front doors, the acknowledgement Jamie was in this alone with Charlotte, that she left them both, made him feel alone. When the words left your mouth, Jamie felt a sense of closeness, of kinship, of mutual understanding that he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was natural, the way you two talked between dance numbers, about Charlotte, about your daughter, about hockey, about your work, about your lives. Jamie left that recital with your phone number burning a hole in his pocket and Charlotte’s hand in his, feeling like, for the first time in a long time that Christmas might still have some magic left in it after all.

#jamie benn #jamie benn fanfiction #jamie benn fanfic #jamie benn writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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goldenmist · 4 years

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"Could I please have Kokichi with a tall, curvy S/O who is very insecure? He flirts with her constantly but she always thinks he’s teasing or making fun of her because she doesn’t think anyone would like her. They’re not together yet."

Of course. I decided to give myself a little break from studying, so here I am. I hope at least somebody still remembers that I am alive. It's interesting how most of my posts include Kokichi, even though he is not my favorite character. Enjoy!

Tw: D*ath mentions, suggestive content, swear words, indignity.

Finding yourself in the midst of a killing game, your prerogative is to put your personality aside and strive towards surviving. To be less memorizable and interesting, to potential murderers. That is what every rational person would conclude. Nevertheless, the situation becomes a bit more difficult, when your persona is not a signature trait.

How uncomplicated it would have been for you, to be a timid little girl with a thin frame. Blending in with the crowd, would not be a problem at all. However ever since puberty, your body attracted some wishful gazes here and there. It enraged you, so many individuals earning for a night with you, but not for a talk. Your character was no more than a bonus to people around. No matter how hard you've worked towards obtaining honorable achievements, or how interesting of a person you where. And at the moment it didn't seem to ever change.

You truly expected, that the minds of your peers would be occupated with a more troublesome matter. But even as the situation called, teenagers stayed true to their hormones. The tingling sense of stares laying on different parts of your body. Awkwardly meaningless conversations, that seemed to be phrases memorized from the same "pick-up" textbook. Nothing out of the ordinary. Most of them put on an oblivious act, in the attempt to come off as having good intentions. However there were a bunch of outgoing exceptions.

One If these labeled "exceptions" was heading towards you at the moment, which resulted in a drained sigh. All you wished was for was some peace and quiet. That is why you hid in the secluded library corner in the first place. But you figured, the individual's eye-sight was sharper than most.

"Hey there Y/N!" Dragging the syllables, Kokichi approached you, leaning against the book shelf carelessly.

"Why did you run off yesterday? That was a bummer. I just wanted to hang out with you!" The corners of his lips dropped. The action, almost making you believe that the male was on the brink of crocodile tears. But in a split second, the expression was wiped off as If It never appeared. Sometimes you wondered, If the shorter male carried around ceramic masks in his pockets. And switched them to correlate with the mood. Such an actor.

"That's a lie by the way!" You scoffed. There wasn't much time for you to observe Kokichi's personality in-depth, in fact you never planned to. But his intentions were so opaque. It was unknown for you, as to why he kept following you around. Somewhere deep inside, you longed for an answer.

"You're pretty boring you know?" Your classmates innatentive phrase, caused annoyance to spread throughout the fibers of your body. What was his point? Just plain mockery? You've had enough of that over the course of time.

"What do you want." A statement, rather than a question. You slammed the book you were trying to concentrate on shut with such force, it rang out through the premises into the hallway. Kokichi was quick to pick up on that, avoiding your gaze and examining his nails. As If they were the most interesting sights in the world.

"No need to get so worked-up, jeez." He briskly slid down the rows of paper-prints, slumping next to you.

"It's not my fault, that you can't see the obvious."

His hefty presence was the last thing you wanted to sense in your free-time. So you decided to escape as swiftly as possible. If your memory was correct, Kaede invited you to her research lab. The girl was surely a better option, than getting upset over this douche. However the same person striked something, that caused you to stop in your tracks.

"I mean everyone" the purple haired emphasized, "They're all so lovey-dovey to you. What a bunch of try-hards." He kept approaching you, menacingly. "And you surely enjoy the attention, you little whore. I can see that in you! I mean you totally rubbed against Shumai today on purpose."

The Supreme Leader poked his cheek in a childish way, that contrasted so much with the words he was producing.

"I wonder who will be the first one? I'd lie If I said I am not invest-" he was cut-off midway by the look in your eyes. Pain, hatred, disbelief. All mixed into one steely gaze. Oma was bringing aloud, the exact memories you've tried to forget for such a long time.

"Aww, are you ups-" Once again the male was interrupted, this time however physically. That slap will leave a heavy bruise for sure. In fact, the impact from your side was so forceful it made the male lose his balance.

"Shut.The fuck.Up." It took all your strength to force out steady words. But you decided not to give Kokichi the pleasure of witnessing you at your weakest. You knew that If you kept talking, there would be a breaking point. With many thoughts overflowing your mind, you stormed out of the library.

Raising himself off the ground, Kokichi put a hand over the place of impact. He hissed, not sure, in agony or delight. Your state, no matter how wicked the thought, it excited Oma. So much pure, powerful emotion awakened in you at that moment, he was fascinated by the reaction. Finally, someone decently interesting. And he wanted to witness that again. Trying to shove away the thought at the back of his mind, that he slightly cares about your well-being. Ever so slight the worry, that it was too tiny for the Supreme Leader to notice. But the seed was planted, steadily sprouting, as the male collected himself to follow you and apologize. Just to hurt you again, no more, no less. He didn't register, how wrong his beliefs were soon to be proven.

#mod junko #danganronpa #imagines #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa x reader #kokichi oma imagine #kokichi oma x reader #kokichi x reader #reader insert #kokichi oneshot #kokichi #kokichi oma #submission

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cto10121 · 3 years

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Bella Swan and Harry Potter are essentially the same character

Very hot take coming up.

So I’ve been re-reading Twilight and of course rifling through my own (still surprisingly sharp) memories of the Harry Potter books, and got struck with the notion of Twilight being very like Harry Potter in the sense that it too was essentially a mystery wrapped in a fantasy: There is central mystery of who Edward is in Twilight and the seven different mysteries of HP that their protagonists have to solve. Harry of course roams the castle for clues and Bella herself plays detective by interrogating other people about the mysterious Cullens, fake-flirting with Jacob, and doing internet research on vampires.

But that’s not all they have in common. They also have the same kind of protagonist.

Both books are about a young, pure-hearted protagonist discovering a world of magic, introduced by an inhabitant of that world, one that co-exists with their own regular human world and one the protagonists must navigate and learn. Both protagonists consistently attract trouble: Harry’s “I’m not looking for trouble, trouble usually finds me” and Edward’s wry description of Bella as a “danger magnet.” Bella is often criticized as being passive, but Harry, especially in his younger years, is almost completely so. Even his heroism is essentially reactive: It is based purely on his trying to survive several threats to his life. When he does act, it is to save himself, other people, or to sacrifice himself for other people—something that Bella succeeds at when she gives herself up to James and contemplates when she thinks about becoming a distraction à la third wife to save Edward. In their “saving people thing,” they act rashly and are easily deceived by a canny villain who uses a beloved (Sirius and Renée) to lure them to their deaths.

Both Harry and Bella are humble, have modest tastes in tandem with a mild appreciation of finery, do not covet worldly goods and fame, are deeply uncomfortable with attention, have quietly fierce independent streaks, and have moments of selfishness, great anger, myopia, and temper. They are devastated when even considering leaving the world they discovered behind—Hogwarts and Edward, essentially. They even have a similar power, a love shield: Harry passively via his mother’s sacrifice and Bella eventually actively via her own love for her beloveds. Both are essentially private people, with similar dark sense of humor tinged with irony and snark, making jokes about their death. Both share many traits with their creators and are framed as the moral centers of their series.

In each, they have an eventual character arc from complete ignorance and innocence to a complete mastery of and integration into the discovered world, either by defeating a personal evil or by becoming one of the inhabitants physically. In doing so, however, neither of them compromise who they are nor taint their inner goodness irredeemably.

But how come these parallels aren’t really all that evident for most readers? What makes these two protagonist register with readers in different ways even though they are similar in personality? Harry could be just as a passive, if not more so, as Bella, and Bella’s self-sacrificing tendencies are as marked as Harry’s. Both have been criticized as being bland and passive protagonists surrounded by much more interesting side cast of fan favorites, and have been at the center of contentious shipping wars (Hinny, Harmony, the infamous Team Edward and Team Jacob wars). Harry has had his sharp criticism, but no great hatred as Bella gets. So what gives?

The reason, I think, has to do with genre, and what readers expect from a hero versus a heroine. A male protagonist’s actions are (not always, but mostly) viewed contextually or situationally—what would be the most reasonable reaction or action to a given situation. The passiveness of a male protagonist, then, is caution or deliberation, or simply circumstantial inability (poverty, age, danger, etc). But a heroine’s passivity both uses ancient tropes of female helplessness and challenges the more popular trope of the female machista that accepts and adopts patriarchal values. There is also the psychology of their ages and audience: Harry begins his series at 11, ends at 17, and Bella begins hers at 17. Harry’s entrance into the wizarding world is entirely independent from romance and so is his coming-of-age; Bella’s entrance into the vampiric world is completely dependent on it. Harry’s abilities also allow him to participate more in this new world than Bella can as a mere human, except for when she becomes a vampire and is finally made equal in status to Edward—social elevation are, very unsurprisingly, key themes in both.

(This also explains why both their film adaptations’ issues with writing their protagonists, with Film!Twilight deleting the mystery element entirely and thus removing Bella’s agency in pursuing Edward and the erotic tension, and Film!HP smoothing out Harry’s thornier, authority-phobic side, and even his reactive heroism in favor of uncomplicated male heroism).

So in sum: Bella Swan and Harry Potter are essentially the same character type in terms of character traits and roles in their respective works, but are received differently by their audience due to genre and sexist double standards.

#do i dare #harry potter #twilight #bella swan #hp #i dared #meta #cristina metas #hp meta #twilight meta #i mean it’s not really that hot a take #it’s just i’ve seen zero people make that connection #and i just feel it’s kind of obvious

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sapphic-yearning-lesbian · 3 years

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So I remember reading an ask on someone’s tumblr. I don’t exactly remember from who or when. But they wanted an insight on Raya’s struggle with reading and writing. I wrote a one-shot inspired by that question. And of course it finishes with some fluff because I couldn't help myself.

Word Count: 1451

Weeks after Kumandra was reunited.

Raya was looking down at the piles of papers spread across a table. Her Ba was sitting across from her, quickly reading an article and signing it. Raya, on the other hand, was struggling. She was 12 when she stopped reading and writing.

It's not a survival skill to read and write; it's a luxury. And she was just coming to terms with it.

"Trade…ne-go-ti-a-tions," Raya sounded out to herself. T

Raya tackled reading by sounding out each difficult word before attempting to puzzle together what it could actually mean; by reading and comparing all the terms within a document, she usually finds out what a specific word means.

Complicated words, surrounded by descriptive words, can make them uncomplicated.

She smiled as she realized Fang was requesting more rice in exchange for more chiles and thyme.

A negotiation was finding a medium to a situation that benefits both parties.

However, if worse comes to worst and she really couldn't figure out the meaning of a word, she would ask her Ba, who was always happy to help.

Raya yawned as she signed the document. Placing it on a pile in front of her Ba so he could double-check her work.

Lucky after doing this for months, she has never messed up a trade. Or at least that her Ba has told her about.

Raya frowned as she grabbed another document, most mornings from 5 to 6. They sit in this office and do paperwork before breakfast.

And she hates it. She could be sleeping or eating, but she's stuck in a room needing to read and sign documents.

—

It's been a year now.

"AHHHH, I still hate this," Raya stated. Things are different now. She doesn't find reading and writing that hard anymore but annoying.

It's still a daily chore she must complete, but now she does it before bed, from 9 to 10.

Namaari was sitting on her bed reading a book. She wanted to be with her, talking, flirting, sparring, anything but reading and signing documents.

Raya looked down at the piles of paper; she now has more complex paperwork, including math. Mostly decimals and fractions. The documents are filled with numbers based on the outflow of goods and the inflow of goods.

So her chore requires more thought and patience.

She had just gotten comfortable reading propositions on trades. Now she needs to do math with her English.

She was so overwhelmed by her own thoughts and hatred for this chore she didn't realize Namaari was behind her. "That's weird…" she said, taking a paper from Raya's desk. She was standing beside Raya, her hands leaning on the desk as her eyes skimmed the paper.

Raya tried to read her eyes. She noticed Namaari looked generally confused until her eyes filled with an understanding, and a smirk covered her face before saying. "The negotiations look legit, but these," she chuckled as she lifted a paper with math on it. "We deal with numbers, but this is not that." She threw her head back as she exploded in laughter, "I think your Ba hired someone to create homework for you. I'm assuming it's him trying to secretly help you improve your educational skills."

Raya felt her cheeks redden. It now makes sense. Usually, on Fridays, she has a mandatory meeting with her Ba, where she explains what was easy and difficult about her chores. She had never put the pieces together.

Truthfully she wasn't mad at him. How could she be! Whatever he was doing was working. She was getting better and more confident in her skills. "Well then, at least I can stop stressing that if I mess up, all our trades will be off."

Namaari stopped laughing and turned her head to look at me. I confidently held my gaze on her, her chocolate eyes shimmering in the candlelight illuminating my desk. "Give yourself more credit! You've been doing good," She chuckled, nibbling on her bottom lip. "I always double-check any Fang trade negations with Heart...just in case."

They both burst out laughing as Raya's face turned a bright red. "I'm really trying, but I get so mad sometimes." She lifted up a paper with math problems on it. "This should be a second nature to me, and I struggle." She sighed deeply before breaking her eye contact with Namaari and looking at her wall. The clock said 10; at least she was done with that for today.

"Hey! It's normal to feel discouraged while doing things that push what we know. It doesn't make your process any less valid!" Namaari said in a stern voice to get her point across to the other. However, Raya seemed lost in her thoughts. She had her lips pressed together, and she was staring intensely at the pile of documents in front of her.

"It's easy for you to say that, Maari. You're great at everything." Raya responded in almost a whisper as she heard the other girl chuckle.

"I'm actually quite terrible at math. That was never a subject I excelled at. I did the minimum, if I'm honest." Namaari said as Raya chuckled and rolled her eyes. "The truth is, Raya, you can't be great at everything!" Namaari licked her lips as Raya turned to her locking their eyes together once again. "There will be things you struggle with while you excel in others. But no matter what, remember you are doing your best! That's what matters." Raya's coffee eyes shimmered with tears starting to pool in her eyes as a smile plastered onto her lips.

"You look so rough on the exterior but are so soft in your interior, Maari," Raya answered, smirking and raising her left eyebrow. Namaari's cheeks went red as she cupped her hand, brushing her hair behind her ear. This made Raya's heart almost combust within her chest. "Thank you; for listening to me rant and consoling me...It's hard for me to admit, but this has been difficult, learning by myself, only because I'm too proud to ask for help." Raya admitted as she read Namaari's eyes and found herself almost gasping for air when she realized the love hidden behind the other princess's following words.

"From now on, when we're together, we'll spend an hour together doing our paperwork so I can help you without you needing to ask me." Nammari excitedly answered. She hated paperwork as much as Raya did, but if paperwork included her, it couldn't be as bad. "If I notice you're struggling, I'll help you!" She unintentionally scrunched up her nose before finishing. "Plus, you won't need to thank me."

Raya watched Namaari with so much fondness and love. She couldn't believe that this fang warrior was excited to help HER; So she searched the girl's face for any sense of hesitation or an ounce of dishonesty, but all she found was affection and love. Namaari was looking at her just as her Ba used to look at her Ma.

Namaari waited for Raya to say anything about her proposition, but she didn't. Instead, she hummed and placed her right hand on Namaari's right cheek. Her coffee eyes filled with so much happiness and desire. Namaari could feel her heartbeat accelerate as Raya's eyes found their way to her lips.

"I won't say thank you then, but I'll do this," Raya managed to say before gently rubbing her own nose against Namaari's, trying to get consent from the other before she processed. Maari soon after brought her hands up to Raya's cheeks. Raya took this as her consent and pressed her lips against the others.

The kiss was gentle at first, their lips getting familiar with each other. That lasted for a few seconds before Namaari ran her tongue against Raya's bottom lip. Which Raya didn't hesitate to part as the other's tongue quickly explored her mouth. The once warm and gentle kiss was now heated and passionate.

Raya tasted like her peach chapstick, which made Namaari smile against her lips. She must admit that her freshly brushed teeth made the taste of their shared oral liquids taste quite odd, but nevertheless, she was kissing RAYA.

The princesses snuck a couple breathes between kisses but had to part for air. They both opened their eyes and rested their foreheads together.

Both their lips were swollen from all the kissing, but that was irrelevant. Raya finally got to kiss the girl she had been dreaming about kissing for years, and she kissed her back. "I could get used to that," Namaari stuttered as she was catching her breath.

Raya smiled before answering, "I already have," following up with a wink.

#namaari #raya #Disney Namaari #disney raya #raya x namaari #Namaari x Raya #raya namaari #namaari of fang #rayaari #ratld namaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld raya #ratld #ratld incorrect quotes #raya incorrect quotes

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