#because by his own admission: he doesn't matter as much as someone else

[waldensblog]

Baghra: My son is evil, manipulative, and cares about no one but himself. Do not trust him.

Her son when it’s just the 2 of them:

The point here being: yes, Aleksander is the villain. That was made abundantly clear in the show. But the show creators, I gather, wanted to bring a bit more humanity to him, and I think they did a good job with that, because... who is this speech FOR? WHO IS HE TRYING TO MANIPULATE WITH THIS SPEECH? 

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Operation Campfire

Part I

"We need to leave."

Quiet and unobtrusive, Akai has slipped up to Rei through the sea of people around them. He really needs to stop doing that; the warm, low voice, barely a whisper in Rei's ear, makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

It's not even been twenty minutes. This is going to be a long, long night.

He's lucky the attention of the guests is on the stage; otherwise, someone might notice the flush creeping up his cheeks at Akai's too-close proximity. It's nice, in a way, to know he'll come this close; gods know Akai's not particularly comfortable with most people, prefers to keep his distance. The fact he doesn't, with Rei, in a public space no less, is an admission of their mutual trust.

It's also highly inconvenient, right now, because it sends a shiver down Rei's spine.

He manages to supress the movement, barely, and focuses on the issue at hand. Leaning back against Akai would be very lovely and all, but this is hardly the time nor place for it. He already has a reputation of cozying up to the FBI too much - and that's with his colleagues barely knowing half the things he and Akai have been up to. He can't afford to give them more ammunition.

In fact, he's here tonight for precisely the opposite purpose. He has an image to improve.

It is a little annoying, though. Because it should be their night. Theoretically. The celebration of five long years of undercover work, coming to a successful conclusion. Food and drinks on the house, how lovely.

As it stands, however, being himself would probably be a disaster. He's going to be Amuro, tonight, and he's going to do a lot of networking and very little else.

(They've got their own celebration planned in a couple of days, anyways. Just Hiro, Akai, and himself, on vacation for the first time in years.)

Between an hour of speeches, another hour of rewards for key figures, food and drink and dance, Rei's not particularly looking forward to the night. But he's got superiors to bedazzle, and he's not going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers - especially not for an idiot that hasn't managed to apologize, properly, for trampling all over Rei's feelings.

Akai has certainly tried; has even had flowers delivered to him.

(At least Rei presumes it was him; there's very few people that know his new address, even fewer with reason to apologize, and then there's the fact his mysterious gift giver forgot to sign their name on the accompanying card. Even detective Mouri Kogoro - also present, tonight - could crack this case.

That reminds him- he should toss the dried-up hydrangea into the trash already.)

But at the end of the day, Rei doesn't care for flowers or chocolates or cards. What he really wants is for Akai to suck it up and say the words himself. He knows it's a tall order; after all, it's not like he's apologized for any of the privacy violations - and other assorted crimes - he committed while hunting for Akai.

That was different, though.

Akai setting him up with Hiro was entirely pointless, utterly avoidable. If Akai is worth Rei's time, he'll acknowledge that and apologize properly.

At least, Rei would like to pretend his affections hinge on Akai's words.

Unfortunately, that isn't quite the truth any longer, probably hasn't been in a good long while. Because Akai, stupid, reckless idiot that he is, has wormed his way into Rei's heart. Even if he desperately wishes it weren't so.

He's tried, of course, to exorcise Shuuichi from it, several times in fact. But Akai is burrowed in too deep, nestled into Rei's weak spot; unless he wants to rip himself apart in the process, there's no getting rid of him that easily. And that's if Rei could even bring himself to want to do that. Which he doesn't.

They've grown too close, entwined with one another. Relying on each other.

And were it a matter of life and death, he'd go with Akai in a heartbeat.

(Considering its rabbit-quick palpitations in the FBI agent's proximity, that would be rather fast, these days.)

Right now, however, Akai's still projecting calm.

Not that he ever shows many signs of distress, generally too in control of himself. A useful trait, in their line of work - but somewhat inconvenient if one cares about this idiot. It's for the best, then, that Rei has become quite adept at reading even the smallest cues Akai lets slip through the crack. He's not impossible to read, especially up close.

(Close enough that his concealed gun presses into Rei's flank. His breath hitches at the realization.)

He takes a moment to fiddle with the folds of his suit jacket, to make sure it hides his own shoulder holster adequately. A feeble attempt to calm himself.

Akai's presence demands too much of his attention.

He's barely moving at all, even his breathing tightly controlled. Rei's sure if he looked back, he'd see the muscles of Akai's lovely neck pulled taut, his eyes sharp and unyielding. But given that he's chosen to stand in a way that would make it hard for him to draw his weapon, there's nothing to worry about - not yet, at least.

Knowing Akai, it's very possible he just doesn't like how many people have gathered here, tonight.

(A sentiment Rei shares, after too much time spent in the shadows.)

In the end, however, it's just a party. And one with such a high percentage of law enforcement attendants that it would be utterly stupid to try any funny business tonight.

(Rei tries to ignore that this would also make it an appealing target for anyone with a grudge against the police.)

He's not about to let Akai (or a hypothetical terrorist) ruin his career opportunities.

His answer, thus, remains firm.

"No."

Still, he can't help wondering what has Akai so wired. If there's something to worry about, he probably needs to know.

"What's wrong?" Rei mouths, barely a sound passing from his lips. He stares ahead to the podium, pretending to listen to the speech Kuroda's giving at the moment.

"Several people have been staring at you and me - including your subordinate, for the last twenty minutes. And I'm not supposed to cause trouble, tonight", Akai mumbles, too soft and too close.

If he keeps speaking like that, it's going to be trouble, alright.

Rei grits his teeth. Resists the urge to draw him in close. Akai can damn well protect himself, if need be.

"At least half the people in this room have read your dossier. I would be more surprised if they didn't stare at you, Silver Bullet."

He tries for dismissive, but the nickname flows from his lips too easily, too affectionately. Rei can't help it. His feelings bleed out of him, whenever he's not careful enough - a circumstance with historical prevalence, in Akai's presence.

Still, he'll humour Akai and assess the situation. Looks around, pretending to look for a waiter, a guise to survey the room.

He doesn't get far.

His gaze gets caught on Shuuichi, for what must be seconds at most, though they feel like an eternity. On the smile, soft and private and barely noticeable, the warmth mirrored in the creases around his eyes. He should be doing something else, but it's hard to look away, when Rei knows he caused this look, that the fondness is meant for him.

(It's the look usually reserved for Akai's family. The thought makes Rei nauseous.)

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before he does something very, very stupid.

Because Akai doesn't look like his dossier's picture, tonight. He looks even better.

Akai must have slept more, recently, to reduce the bags under his eyes. Someone, presumably Kudo Yukiko - because Rei refuses to believe Akai's managed it himself - has dressed him up appropriately for the gala, too - he's wearing a navy-blue suit over a cream turtleneck sweater. His hair has been slicked back; his curls forced into a short ponytail by a silver ribbon. And if Rei's not mistaken, Akai's even wearing a bit of eyeliner that defines his already sharp eyes in even starker lines.

He's stunning, like this. Anyone with a pair of working eyes would be drawn to him.

Like hell Rei's going to tell him that, though.

Instead, he will use a different outlet for the emotions that are threatening to boil over within - Kazami.

He finds his associate in the crowd easily enough, staring intently at the pair of them, just as Akai had described. Rei's learned from the best; despite the brilliant smile, the glare he gives his subordinate is positively murderous.

Kazami flushes, coughs into his fist, and finally has the decency to look away. Rei will need to ask later why his subordinate thought it a good idea to leave his manners at home when attending such a prestigious gathering.

By his side, he can feel Akai relax a bit, a warm breath released past his ear. It's all the thanks Rei knows he'll get for the sniper to squeeze his arm, once, before he disappears back into the crowd.

(Where Akai touched him, the warmth lingers.)

Rei goes to find himself that waiter. He needs a drink, or maybe two.

.

While he's sipping his champagne - one of the few drinks left without that certain bad aftertaste - several people are called to the stage to receive their accolades.

It stings to know neither himself nor Akai will be called there tonight, despite their contributions.

It makes sense; what they did does not belong into the light. If their deeds were exposed, the public would see just how ugly and dirty and bloodstained public safety's hands really are. Better to keep it hidden.

Because even their peers, so many of which are here tonight, those that should understand, often don't. Rei has seen the looks people give him. Some of his superiors have been away from field duty for too long.

(Have forgotten when the ends justify the means.)

He's made sure to document every crime he committed, to send the reports to the higher-ups on a regular basis. And yet they left him to his own devices, offered no support or advice when he reported extortion and murder, torture and theft and arson.

(Before Kazami became his contact, communications had been so spotty he'd laid awake some nights, wondering whether they'd just leave him to die alone if he needed extraction. Wash their hands off him.)

Now, for the first time in years, he'd been face to face with his superiors during the post-takedown interviews - though they would be better described as interrogations, really, questioning his motives and loyalties.

In their quest to understand what happened, they'd pried apart every last reason, every justification he gave for his actions, the legitimacy of every injury he'd sustained. After lying for his survival for so long, he'd been afraid, for a moment, to be truthful with them - but there could never be absolution for his crimes, if he kept them locked up in his mind. So he'd laid it all out for them.

Had watched them pale as he described cutting off a young woman's fingers to send them to her husband. Had heard them swallow at the illegal pornographic materials he'd found on the laptop of a prestigious prosecutor, used for blackmail.

(Had seen the fear in their eyes, quite clearly. They must have thought he was a monster.

And some days, Rei's sure that they are onto something. He wouldn't change a thing, but still his deeds keep him up at night.)

In the end, they found nothing to fault him for. Pardoned his crimes, even if they weren't pleased about it. Awarded him with the honours he was due - the medal he's wearing pinned to his chest today a symbol of his service to the country he loves so much.

(Part of him wonders, can't help it, really, whether they'd ripped him apart just as much if he didn't look like he was a foreigner in his own country.

The rejection burns, bile rising in his throat.)

Maybe Akai was right. They should've just left right at the start. Then he wouldn't have to listen to those who fought and lived, nor the remnants of those who fought and lost.

Why is he doing this to himself? It's only dredging up bad memories he's trying to leave behind.

For a moment, he considers finding Akai and ditching the gala right there and then. But wherever he ran off to, Rei can't find him while his resolve wavers.

With a sigh, he resigns himself to the long night ahead.

He empties his glass in time for Hiro to be summoned to the stage.

.

It's not a surprise to hear his best friend's name be called, they knew ahead of time, but it still drives home just how different their lives turned out, in the end.

Hiro is a killer just the same, after all, but by being removed from active duty for a few years that somehow become palatable. They've made him out to be a survivor, a hero - the poster child for the kind of brave young officers the PSB needs to take on the difficult missions.

(Young and enthusiastic, because without their fervour, the work would break them.)

Even though Rei tries, he can't help but envy Hiro's moment in the spotlight.

(They should stand up there, together. Them, and three others that lost their lives in the line of duty already. It was always supposed to be the five of them.)

Rei hates himself for it.

It's not like Hiro's basking in the limelight. His smile is strained, his words curt, as he's thanked for his service. Somehow his attitude is understood as professional, instead of rude - the benefits of his cool smile, Rei supposes. But even if his best friend can fool the audience, Rei knows Scotch when he sees him.

(It's a small consolation to see that Hiro, too, has been changed by what they've been through. Rei clings to the connection, painful as it is.)

It's over fairly quickly, thankfully.

Hiro brushes past his proud older brother's congratulations, and instead finds Rei, wordlessly grabs the drink saved for him.

.

Time crawls and drags. More people go up, give a little speech of their own, step back down again. Their faces blur together.

"Zero."

Hiro bumps his shoulder, gently reminding him of the present, his presence.

The doom and gloom permeating the room is poisonous. Here Rei is, being envious of his best friend, when it's a miracle he's standing there at all. How stupid. Things could've gone bad so easily, but they made it through alive, and that's worth something.

He leans back against Hiro's shoulder, focuses on his best friend's breathing.

.

When the ceremony is finished, it's time to do what Rei's come for - socialize, improve his standing. He's doing what he can in the office, but to limited effect, since he still spends a lot of time on field investigations. His identity might no longer be a national secret, but he's missed afterwork beers a few times too many. His colleagues treat him as other, despite his best efforts.

He'll just need to show them that he's human, too.

(Even if he can't show his true self.)

Rei could probably go at it alone, but he's used to two-person jobs - briefly, he wonders which tropical island Vermouth is enjoying her pardon on, is glad she hasn't sent a postcard - and Hiro's agreed to be his back-up. Probably for the best, considering how the night went, thus far.

If he wasn't a decently capable sniper, Hiro would have made a good intelligence officer for the organisation as well.

The amount of intel they gathered because calm and collected Scotch didn't take sides, knew to listen and offer insightful advice, was a little insane. The organisation never expected his betrayal, until it was too late (and even then, Rei vividly recalls Chianti pissing off Gin when she insisted that surely Scotch wasn't a rat - one of the few sources of amusement, in those trying times). Charismatic enough to get even the ice-cold grim reaper to thaw - that's his best friend.

And some of the familiarity they're trying to reclaim is still there, because they slip into their masks effortlessly, side by side. Fall into their old patterns.

Between Scotch's dry wit, and Amuro's dazzling charm, very few people manage to avoid the conversational vortex that sucks them in, spits them out with an improved opinion of agents Furuya and Morofushi.

A compliment about an officer's subtle earrings here, 'heartfelt' congratulations for the graduation of a colleague's daughter from a prestigious university there - after years of depending on highly sensitive intel, it's laughable how easily these people can be won over with the information they volunteer on their social media profiles.

In the ebb and flow of conversations, Rei makes sure they don't stay past the small talk, lest they reach actually interesting or even controversial topics. Usually, this is fine - people are looking to celebrate, not form meaningful connections. But every single one of them wants to toast with him, and there's too many detectives around, so Rei actually takes a sip when they ask him to.

It's been a while since he drank that much, and he probably shouldn't have.

.

It starts out innocently enough. The young woman talking to their latest mark seems vaguely familiar, though Rei can't quite place her.

They chat, for a while, about nothing of importance, when finally, they reach the dreaded stage of meaningful conversation. They should dip, but her enthusiasm is helplessly charming, provide an easy in with their target. Rei can't help but want to indulge her, nudging Hiro to stay a little longer. It's nice when others do his job for them.

"It makes me so happy, to see the case that took my partner finally laid to rest. Were you part of the final operation?"

Of course, the question isn't unexpected. Rei's prepared a variety of different answers for why he's here, depending on who's asking. Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of really, truly, looking at the woman.

He freezes, his mind caught on all the things he can't ever tell her.

Because Rei's never seen her in person before, but he knows her. Showed shots of her picking up their kids to her husband, in a last-ditch effort to finally get him to break. The man hadn't.

Instead, he had quietly and resolutely told Rei he'd rather die, now, than drag his family into it.

Bourbon had given him what he'd asked for.

All he sees is the concrete cellar, monochrome but for the blood splattering on the floor and Bourbon's gloves, white fabric stained crimson. The smell of iron and gunpowder rises from the cold, hard, gun in his hand.

He blinks.

Thankfully, Hiro notices his stupor and steals the woman's attention away to cover for him, but they cut the conversation short after that, regardless.

Rei hurriedly removes his gloves, tosses them into the trash on their way out.

.

"What was that?" Hiro asks, when they're out of earshot of the woman, heading to one of the lesser-used employee bathrooms. His best friend is projecting calm, but the last syllable came out too sharp - he's clearly concerned.

"It's nothing to worry about."

Hiro, unfortunately, has never been particularly inclined to believe Rei when he lies straight to his face.

"You blanked out for half a minute and started shaking."

Okay, so, Rei doesn't remember that part, but he was a little preoccupied at the time.

"She caught me unaware. It won't happen again."

His best friend checks the bathroom stalls to make sure they're empty, puts a 'cleaning in progress' from the supply cabinet on the door. Pats the spot next to himself on the counter, and gives Rei a long look.

"Zero..."

Urgh.

Hiro's voice is soft and gentle, as if speaking to a spooked animal, and that really is the worst. Rei could resist anger and accusations, but genuine concern? Not a chance.

"Sometimes I get flashbacks. Short ones, but vivid. Started when you were gone. They haven't happened in a while, so I thought it was over."

It's an uncomfortable relief to finally tell someone, like removing a splinter from a wound - it still bleeds, but unless it's done, he can't ever heal. Rei would much rather not have divulged it, at least not right here and now, but his best friend is persistent - it's easier to just tell him what he wants to know, before he launches a full-on cross-examination. Besides, Rei's known for a while it needed to be addressed; he's lucky the episodes haven't happened in a situation that cost him dearly, thus far.

(And that Hiro was there to bail him out, tonight.)

"What kind of flashbacks?"

Rei winces and rubs his temple. Tries to shake off the memory.

"Usually harmless. Sometimes traumatic."

Hiro has entered the stage of damage assessment, and it's unlikely he'll stop before he's satisfied.

"Visual? Auditory?"

"All senses."

Hiro pinches the bridge of his nose.

"And this has been going on for years now?"

It's a rhetorical question, but at this point Rei might as well indulge him.

"Yes."

Hiro sighs.

Rei's just glad the dissection has stopped, momentarily.

"You should really talk about this with someone. A professional, preferably." That much is expected. Rei knows he should, hasn't done so for a very simple reason - it might get him disqualified from field duty. If he was ever constrained to a desk job, he would simply shrivel up and die.

He's sure the aversion is clearly visible on his face.

"I'll take that as a no. Have you tried talking to Akai?" That suggestion, at least, is novel, albeit utterly stupid.

"He has the emotional intelligence of a starfish, why should I bother?"

Rei knows that assessment is a little unfair, but even if Akai's not utterly hopeless, his inability to communicate what he actually means results in just about the same outcome.

(Not that Rei's any better, most days.)

Hiro smiles at him, too knowing. 'Because you like him, and there's a very short list of people that applies to', Rei can almost hear him say.

There would be no arguing with that, even if Rei sure as hell would try. Instead, Hiro finds a different way to casually knock the breath from his lungs.

"Give him a chance. He might understand."

.

They rest up for a couple minutes, grab a breath of fresh air, and then return into the fray.

It's probably no use to try and bedazzle more people; Rei's tired, woozy, and he's all but exhausted the list of officers that are likely to influence the office climate. Still, there's one last thing he should be doing tonight, to improve his image.

Not his favourite part of the night, and he really can't afford to jinx it by asking if things could go any worse.

As it is an international gathering, there's a section of the facility sectioned off with a live band, providing an improvised dance floor. Amuro, a 'proper gentleman', should let himself be seen on it. There's always a surplus of women who wish to dance on these occasions, and indulging a few is an easy way to earn good will.

Still, he'd really rather not.

.

His apprehension isn't for lack of competence.

Years ago, in an unlikely team-up, Rye and Vermouth taught him the basics of ballroom dancing for a mission (the fact the sniper knew how to do that really should've been an indication he wasn't as American as he had claimed). Their lessons had been more enjoyable than Rei had anticipated - mostly because he got to step on Rye's toes whenever he felt like it. It was quite satisfying to feel the sniper tense in his arms, trying not to flinch.

(And more pleasurable than he cared to admit, at the time, to get to hold Rye, pressed close, taut but compliant, moving only at Rei's behest. Their clothes soaked through with sweat-)

Rei slams the lid on that memory before it starts burning. They really like to cling to him today, huh.

In the end, Rei picked up dancing without much issue. Would even say he enjoys it, sometimes.

No, the problem is simply that it feels wrong to let someone into his personal space.

Rei's a very in-your-face kind of fighter, but he likes to controls the ebb and flow of the exchange through aggression. He doesn't stay close to give his opponent an opportunity to get back at him.

Years undercover have taught him that while more than an arm's length of distance doesn't guarantee his safety, at the very least it gives him time to react. To willingly allow someone to be close to him is utter insanity, and uncomfortably intimate in a way he shouldn't ever be, with strangers.

Furthermore, dancing will mean splitting up from Hiro (unless they want to cause a scandal, and that's not the kind of publicity they want to generate tonight). Rei's already slipped up once tonight, would rather like to avoid a repeat performance.

Even if he wanted to, though, Hiro wouldn't be available. Because Akai has noticed them approach the dancefloor.

Rei's caught only glimpses of him throughout the evening, hiding in the shadows and scaring people off with a glare so grim it justified the reaper nickname all on its own.

But that darkness falls from his face as he's making his way over to the pair of them, eyes bright in the dimly lit area. It's like seeing the sun rise from behind the clouds, and Rei's definitely not staring at him, ignoring whatever Hiro just said.

For a moment, Rei gives himself over to the delusion that Akai is coming over, looking all eager like that, to ask him for a dance. Rei would have to decline, of course, because of they aren't alone, but still. It would be nice to be asked, to be wanted, by Akai, for real this time.

(When Akai doesn't bother with any of the women that give him longing looks.)

The closer the FBI agents gets, though, the more Rei feels like an idiot.

Because Akai's grin means trouble, and it's not reassuring in the least that it's directed at Hiro.

(Rei tries to push down the stupid spike of jealousy; he's very much aware, after all, that Akai's not interested in his best friend. He's only partially successful, but Amuro's smile withstands his inner turmoil.)

"Agent Morofushi, would you care to join me for a glass of scotch?"

That can't be good. The bar doesn't serve hard liquor.

By his side, Hiro straightens, picking up the very same threat to public safety. His best friend addresses the arising problem the way he does best, with a smile. Whatever Akai is up to needs to be contained, or at least supervised, as they're both well aware.

"Of course, agent Akai. If you'll excuse me, Furuya, I'll be right back."

.

"Is now a bad time, agent Furuya?"

At this point, he'll take anyone other than the cadet that seems like she's barely more than half his age, fluttering her fake eyelashes coquettishly. Even if he was interested in women - and if there wasn't already someone holding his heart hostage - her high-pitched voice, needily whining for his attention, couldn't be further from his type.

"Pardon me, miss." He doesn't even remember the girl's name, couldn't care less, and turns to look at his saviour. Barely manages to keep his poker face in time to not falter under a steely stare. "I promised officer Satou a dance earlier."

When it rains, it pours.

Still, she extends a hand to him, so, as Rye taught him so graciously several years back, he accepts and leads her to the floor, in time for a slow waltz to begin. Officer Satou may appear brash, but when dancing, her confidence is an asset. She follows his movements without much issue.

"You're a difficult man to get a hold of, agent Furuya."

She just has to rub it in every time she sees him, to show that she had the right hunch all along. Annoying, but respectable. If she wasn't happily engaged to a detective of the homicide unit, he would have tried to recruit her already.

"I'm quite busy, as I'm sure you understand."

She nods, briskly, swaying through the sea of bodies around them. At least with the slow tempo of the dance, they're unlikely to waltz straight into someone - or, more likely, have someone waltz up to them.

"Aren't we always?"

Her rhetorical question doesn't need an answer, but he replies in kind, weaving around a couple to turn a corner.

"You still owe me that talk - don't think I've forgotten your promise."

Rei hasn't. He has, however been conveniently too occupied to think about trying to schedule it. Even if he can bring Hiro for back-up, it's sure to rip open old wounds. He's not looking forward to it.

(But Matsuda's and Date's friends deserve better, from him. He hasn't even asked Hiro, because that would make it official. He should. He will.)

He nods.

"Relax. I know now is neither the time nor the place to discuss it, so don't worry about it, for tonight."

They effortlessly avoid collision with a pair of drunken dancers, swaying out of tune and out of lane. Rei doesn't let go of a relieved breath, but it's a damn near thing.

"If you say so, then I shan't."

She smiles, past him.

"Good. Instead, you will give me your address, so I can send you a wedding invitation. Takagi and myself are getting married in autumn."

Rei stiffens, loses his rhythm. Why would they want him there? It makes no sense. He should decline.

Amuro smiles, because that's the appropriate reaction to such an event, right? "I appreciate the thought-"

She interrupts him, drags him out of the way of a tumbling dancer.

"Don't you dare think for even a second about rejecting this offer. You owe me, and we owe you. You come, and we'll call it even. Don't make me go through your superiors - I will, if I have to."

Her face hardens.

"Besides, the kids will be there. They've been asking about you."

Just because Rei knows she's guilt-tripping him, doesn't mean it's not working.

She doesn't have to specify which kids - there's only one group of elementary school students that runs into the pair of homicide detectives often enough to be invited to their wedding. Really, them being there should be an argument against agreeing to come - the kids only ever knew him as Amuro, and, statistically speaking, people don't tend to like Furuya Rei much when they've met one of his disguises first.

He's intimately familiar with how it feels to lose a friend, though. Elena's disappearance still hurts, some nights, and he wouldn't wish that pain upon anyone else.

And while they are certainly a lot to handle, and a little annoying at times, it was kind of nice to spend time with the detective boys. Unlike his regular life, their cases were mostly harmless and quick to solve, and hey, that one time he even got to punch an ass.

A welcome break.

Rei finds himself smiling without really meaning to. Is horrified and delighted at once to find it's genuine.

The waltz has ended, and officer Satou looks at him expectantly. It's not like she's given him much of a choice, but he still waits a moment, considers his options.

Does he want to anger Satou Miwako? There's probably smarter uses of his time.

Though he doesn't feel like he owes her, she's raised a good point. Maybe it would even be nice. Weddings are supposed to be joyous occasions, right? He needs more of those in life. Maybe he gets to be selfish for once, accept a good thing.

It breaks something within him, to accept without putting up much of a fight.

(But it's too nice, this feeling of being wanted somewhere.)

"I will let you know where to drop the letter off."

He might have surrendered to her, but he's not giving up his home adress. Doesn't want her to be able to just show up, unannounced.

She smiles at him, like the cat that caught the mouse, even though he's only agreed to receive the invitation, not to show up.

He'll try, though.

"Good. Feel free to bring a plus one."

.

Rei doesn't see Hiro and Akai for about an hour.

The longer they're gone, the more restless he gets - the last time he only heard Akai's grin, and then the guy showed up with a rocket launcher to shoot down a submarine. It's a show of confidence and bad ideas and he's way too tired to deal with the fallout at this hour.

Rei's on his fourth glass of champagne, his feet hurt from running around all evening and then dancing for an hour, he's sweaty, the air's too stale-

Sudden cold drenches him, gives him barely enough time to brace himself before Mouri Kogoro, who just spilled his wine all over his dress shirt, crashes into Rei.

Maybe he's had a few too many of his own; because his first instinct is to reach for his gun and get the guy to back off, then demand damages for Bourbon's ruined suit.

(Bourbon doesn't exist anymore, never existed in the first place.)

A hand wraps around his wrist, presses it down over his heart, stopping Rei from completing the draw just in time. He struggles against it for a moment, then shoots a dirty look over his shoulder. Of course it's Akai who's holding him down, steadfast as ever.

Rei still tries to resist, for the sake of it.

Once, twice.

Nothing.

Akai's not budging an inch.

(A cold shiver runs down Rei's spine, quickly followed by a hot flush of arousal. Damn Akai, and his everything.)

"Causing trouble without me?" Akai's infuriating smirk is way too close, and definitely not helping to calm down the situation.

At least it's distracting.

Rei can think of at least six different methods to wipe that stupid smile off Akai's face, including, but not limited to, breaking his nose. Doesn't need his hands for that - he could just headbutt him, no problem.

Getting his head close to Akai's also appears in some of the other ideas. Most concerningly of which: he would really like to kiss the smile away.

His heart beats quicker, trapped as he is by Akai, is trying to free itself from Rei's chest and reunite with the one who holds it in his grasp.

(Can Akai feel his pulse? Can he tell what it means?)

Shit. Definitely too much alcohol.

People are staring at them - too many officers keenly attuned to the bloodlust that filled the small space between the four of them for a moment. Hiro appears from wherever he was hiding to pry Mouri off Rei, hold him steady.

Akai tugs his wrist down, insistently. Lets go disappointingly quickly, once Rei relaxes the grip on his weapon.

(Instead of disappearing, Akai's warmth seeps into Rei's heart, burns him from within.)

He keeps his mouth shut. There's too many stupid things he could say right now that would ruin all his efforts of the night.

Instead of his gun, Rei draws a handkerchief, uses it to dab at the wine stain rather ineffectively. That shirt is thoroughly ruined. Well. Maybe their cleaner can salvage it.

"Detective Mouri, are you alright?"

The high-pitched voice promises an earlier onset of the headache Rei's sure to receive come tomorrow morning. Great. Who let officer Yamamura attend this gathering?

"I am perfectly fine, thank you very much", is what Rei can make out from Mouri's slurred speech (and even that only because Rei spent way more time than he would have liked around the miserable creature that is the detective).

"I think you've had quite enough, sir. Why don't you head home?" While he says it to Mouri, it's clear from the sharp look Hiro gives Rei that it's mostly addressed to him.

"We'll settle this tomorrow." Rei manages to tone his glare down to frigid instead of murderous, and turns on his heel.

He's not willing to deal with any more of this nonsense, tonight.

.

"Do you need a change of clothes?" Akai asks, keeping pace with Rei without issue. Long-legged bastard.

Rei, of course, has planned for this eventuality, but he really can't be bothered with dressing up again for an encore of that performance. No, it's time to go home and rest. He's earned it. Though...

"Yours?"

Akai looks at him, deadpan. "No. The ones I stole from Kuroda, obviously."

Rei gives him a dirty look. "You think you're so funny, huh?"

They make their way to the garage downstairs, on foot.

"Positively hilarious, I've been assured."

"Whoever told you that, you'll want to get your money back from them."

Akai laughs quietly while he rummages through the trunk of his obnoxious red mustang. It's a lot fuller than Rei remembers, brown boxes of some kind stacked in it that he doesn't remember seeing before.

He'll need to ask Akai about them later, but for now, he has other priorities.

The stain is cold and wet and irritating. He really wants to get out of the soiled clothes. Hm. The trunk lid should offer enough protection from the cameras...

Rei starts stripping.

And if he's taking his sweet time, putting on a little show, well. Akai's the one who ran around all evening looking like he wanted to be eaten alive. It's only fair Rei pay him back in kind.

It's not like they haven't seen each other half-naked a dozen times before.

It's the cold night air that causes goosebumps to form on his skin. Not Akai looking at him more hungrily than that one time they shared Rei's bento.

He expects to have his change of clothes handed to him by the time he's done, but since that's not the case, he extends a hand. As flattering as it is to catch Akai staring, green eyes burning bright in the night, Rei's still freezing.

"I'm cold, Akai."

Taking his cue, Akai hands his clothes over.

"And clearly inebriated."

Rei slips into the too-large tank top, doesn't bother with the shirt. Opts instead for the cozy sweater. Much better. He hugs the fabric to his chest.

"Tipsy, at most."

Akai gives him a long-suffering look. What's with people seeing through him, today?

"Rei. Do you mind if I drive you back?"

Akai's eyes burn with undisclosed emotions. At least Rei hopes he's not looking too deep into it, again. But Shuuichi seems painfully sincere, sombre, asking for permission - when really, it should be Rei asking for a ride, should thank him for offering.

The house of cards stacked against him all evening crumbles under the weight of Akai's look. God. Rei just wants to rest, nestled into the sniper's side, while he looks at Rei like that. Talks, as if he matters. Holds him tight.

Akai gets up, takes a step closer.

"You know the way, don't you?"

It should be casual, carelessly callous, but it comes out too soft, instead. An admission of familiarity. He's given Akai the keys to where he's most vulnerable, because he trusts Akai won't abuse that privilege.

"Yes."

The word is small and breathless between them. So simple, and yet.

Rei lets the shiver run its course through him, this time. It's too late to pretend he isn't affected. Even if he can't bring himself to say the words, maybe Akai will understand if Rei just stops suppressing what he feels.

Akai closes the gap between them, wraps his arms around him. Rubs his back, pressure gentle through the knit fabric. How does he still think Rei's cold, when he's been set on fire? Idiot.

He melts into the embrace, warmth seeping through the suit's thin fabric. Takes a deep breath of the smoke and sweat and sandalwood that make up Akai's scents, today. Holds him too tight, creasing the suit.

Neither of them cares.

"Take me home, Akai."

.

Rei drifts in and out of consciousness on the way back, Akai's steady driving lulling him to sleep. He doesn't bother trying to resist his body's demands.

.

A cool breeze stirs him awake, as Akai opens the window and slides his keycard for the underground parking lot across the scanner.

He parks in Rei's space, and is left waiting.

And waiting.

Cozy as he is, covered by Akai's suit jacket for further insulation, Rei's not particularly inclined to move. At the prospect of getting out of the car and climbing three flights of stairs, a groan escapes him.

Akai's observing him, critically.

"Will you be alright by yourself?"

If he's being honest, Rei's doesn't feel all that drunk. He should grab a snack before bed and a painkiller in the morning, then he'll be good.

"Most likely, yes."

And that's it, isn't it? Akai's fulfilled his duty, and now he'll be off to his own home. The thought leaves Rei cold.

"What about you?" he finds himself asking, doesn't want Akai to go just yet. Besides, he's genuinely concerned; Akai's been taut as a wire most of the evening.

The FBI agent sighs, deep and long-winded. Tension bleeds out of him with every breath.

"Too many people. But I'll be fine."

He doesn't look fine. Looking into his eyes from up close, Rei sees, surprise surprise, how tired Akai looks. It's been a long day, an even longer night, and it's probably only his stubbornness that keeps him from falling asleep in the car.

He shouldn't have driven Rei around, like this. Should've headed home, himself. This is Rei's fault, and he doesn't like owing self-sacrificial idiots anything.

There's a very simple way to pay Akai back for his kindness.

(A very selfish way.)

It's nothing unusual. They've done this a dozen times over, locked up together, so Rei might as well ask.

Rests his hand tentatively over Akai's, still on the gear stick, to test the waters. He counts it as a win when the agent doesn't flinch, only looks away.

"Akai. Would you like to stay the night?"

(Rei knows how bad Akai's insomnia gets on a good day. And if today's interactions have rattled him, he can hazard a guess as to how bad off Akai will be.)

It's only payback. Nothing more.

His heart beats quicker in objection.

Akai moves his hand under Rei's, and for a split second, he fears he's pushed the other too far.

Relief floods him, when the other agent simply turns his hand around, laces their fingers together. Akai's grip would be enough to break his bones, if he tried; but he's just holding him, firm and steady.

Akai sighs softly in the space between them. Finally, he looks at Rei again. There's fear in Akai's eyes, fear and hunger and restlessness and the emotions are switching up faster than Rei can read them.

They settle, eventually, on longing. Rei shivers under their intensity.

"Yes."

A smile blossoms on his face, but he's seen Akai's idiocy from up close one too many times to trust it just yet.

"Will you?"

Just because he wants something, doesn't mean Akai will permit himself to follow that impulse, self-sacrificial bastard that he is.

(It takes one to know one.)

"Are you requesting I stay?"

Rei doesn't even pretend to consider his options. This is an opening, and while it's unclear whether Akai feels exactly the same way, the comfort they feel in each other's presence is very real. It will have to be enough, for now.

His answer comes a little too quickly, too eagerly.

"If you promise to shower."

Akai squeezes his hand.

.

Before he shoos the agent into the bathroom ("You're my guest, you're showering first."), Rei tugs at the ribbon, releasing Akai's curls. He ruffles his stupidly gelled-back hair, just on this side of roughly. There. That's much better. He wasn't quite looking like himself, before.

"Don't forget to wash your hair, too."

.

[03:57] Morofushi Hiromitsu: He got you home safe?

[04:04] Furuya Rei: Yes.

[04:04] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Let me guess. He's still there?

[04:06] Furuya Rei: ...yes.

[04:06] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Good luck.

[04:06] Furuya Rei: It's not like that.

[04:07] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Sure.

[04:10] Furuya Rei: You get home safe, too.

[04:11] Morofushi Hiromitsu: Eh, I'm still catching up with Micchan.

[04:17] Morofushi Hiromitsu: This bar is kinda seedy though, if I disappear, start your search here.

[Morofushi Hiromitsu has shared his location.]

.

He could get used to seeing Akai's shoes, neatly set side by side with his own.

Akai's jacket, draped over the kitchen chair.

The smell of smoke, lingering in his flat.

Akai, undressing in his bathroom.

Akai, waiting in his bed.

Akai, freshly showered, flushed and slightly damp, still-

Shit.

.

By the time he emerges from the shower, the edge taken off a little, Rei has managed to put himself back together, somewhat.

The fresh clothing helps. At least he's physically presentable. Mentally...

They've done this before. There's no need to be nervous.

Except there's a shift that makes all the difference. Before, there was always plausible deniability. One of them half-asleep, injured, otherwise unwell. Fine, Rei's a little drunk, but Akai came here of his own, free will.

God. Rei hopes Akai wants this, too, isn't just going along with his selfish desires.

His stupid heart panics, beating a staccato rhythm. If this goes on, he'll need to see a physician. Or maybe that therapist Hiro suggested.

Damnit. He's an adult and in control of his impulses. He can share a bed with Akai. It will be fine. They'll lay side by side, like responsible adults. He didn't buy the double bed with Akai in mind, but there's enough space for the two of them. They won't even need to touch.

He wants to, though. Badly. Shuuichi's so warm, so lovely to hold. If only Rei had never touched him. He can't ever go back to not knowing the smoothness of Akai's skin, the softness of his hair.

Shit. He's getting too worked up.

Rei grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen, and heads over to the bedroom.

(There's too much space for just himself. It's nice that he's not alone, tonight.)

He pushes down the bedroom door handle with his elbow, balancing the glasses, tries to be quiet. It's unlikely, but he was gone for quite a while, and if by some miracle Akai's already asleep, he wouldn't want to wake him.

The bed is empty.

Panic spears through Rei, freezes him in the doorway. Did Akai hear him in the shower after all? He wasn't that loud, right-

With a creak, the balcony door opens, and Akai pads back in, the smell of smoke intensifying. Ah. He was being mindful of Rei's house rules.

So considerate it makes his heart hurt.

The poor thing is working overtime as it is. It's highly unfair that with dishevelled hair and wearing an oversized pyjama, Akai looks so overwhelmingly cute. Rei wants to drag him into bed and eat him alive.

Damnit.

"Couldn't sleep", is all Akai says, stifling a yawn.

Rei sets the glasses down on the bedside table.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Akai gives him a dark look, shakes his head.

"Not tonight."

Alright. It's not like Rei can't relate, so he drops the matter. For some of the things they've done, they can only ever distract themselves. Rei can help him relax, if he's willing to play.

He steps up to Akai, raising his hands as if to hug him -

"Off to bed with you."

- and shoves him roughly, sending the FBI agent tumbling.

Not one to go down without a fight, Akai grabs his arm as he falls. They land in a tangle of limbs on the bed, Akai managing to roll to the side and try to get on top of him.

Rei can't have that, so he struggles against him. pushes his arm between them, hoists his hip up, and reverses the pin, straddling Akai.

Shit.

Akai's so beautiful beneath him, hair fanning out, eyes bright, breathing elevated from the brief altercation. Wide awake and smiling.

Licking his lips, eager to continue.

Rei could-

He wants to-

Gods help him.

This is too fast. It was just supposed to be a distraction.

He can feel Akai stir against him.

Rei freezes. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

(At least he doesn't have to question anymore whether the attraction is mutual. Isn't that great.)

Akai takes the responsibility out of his hands.

Weaves a hand into Rei's hair, drags him down.

Looks for permission in his eyes.

And then, Akai kisses him.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[nikkoliferous]

Out of the twelve episodes of the Loki show, only season 2 episodes 1, 5 and 6 felt like they were actually about Loki. He didn't even feel like the protagonist in like 75% of the show. And even in those three episodes, he was completely ooc, as if the episodes were centered around Larry not Loki. They wasted screentime on that random Zaniac guy and on Miss Minutes becoming horny ffs. Kang doesn't even matter to MCU anymore. They retconned Loki's character for nothing. I hate this all so much.

And Loki was suddenly so comfortable with using the torture devices of TVA. He was trying to protect the TVA for the majority of the series. Even at the end they don't destroy TVA, only reform it. And the entire two seasons had absolutely nothing to do with Loki. It's like they plucked Loki from his world and threw him into a random story that had jack shit to do with him and where he was most definitely not the protagonist.

*sorry, wanted to rant to someone and thought you might understand. 😅*

Take care and have a nice day!

it's not like they plucked Loki from his world and threw him into a story that had jackshit to do with him. that's precisely what they did.

...except no. they didn't even do that, actually. because even according to the show's own logic, this is canonically not our Loki. it's some random "variant" who didn't exist until sixty seconds into the series, who is inexplicably shown a reel of hand-selected, out of context moments from someone else's life in a bid to break him psychologically. (but really, to speed-run his "character development" and catch up all the viewers who have little to no familiarity with Loki. which seems to be what a lot of series stans are, by their own admission. funny how that works, isn't it? it's almost like the the show wasn't even made for fans of Loki).

after watching all of season 1 despite my better judgment, I made the choice not to watch a single episode of season 2, a decision which was only further cemented by what I have seen of it against my will through gif posts. so I can't speak to the contents of any individual episodes beyond season 1. I will just say that even if certain episodes of that season do centre around a character calling himself Loki, if that individual is so OOC as to be unrecognisable as himself, then those episodes are also not about Loki. and not to beat a dead horse, but again—none of the series, regardless of which character it focuses on, is about our Loki. it's about some other character bearing the name Loki so that Disney can reduce him to a mere commodity through the concept of the multiverse.

in the words of my Loki AI well over a year ago now:

[jelzorz]

172.

ft. @raayllum's sorpeli twins

Briella is the one who likes to dance. Brynn prefers music, but they are both, otherwise, a bit too obsessed with their craft than fifteen year old twins ought to be. Brynn wants more advanced tuition, El wants something more focussed on technique, and it's admirable for certain, but even Opeli thinks it's a bit much, even if she was the same a very long time ago.

It doesn't matter. The Katolis School of Arts is prestigious. It's where kids go to make careers out of dance and music and art, and her kids deserve nothing less than the best. They worked hard for the opportunities to audition here this week, and Opeli isn't going to stop them just because she's a little uncomfortable. And of course, they don't know this. Nobody knows this, and there's no evidence here that she knows of to even hint at her long forgotten past so it's fine, really, in spite of the way her shoulders are tense and her jaw is clenched and Brynn is looking at her with narrowed eyes like they know something might be wrong.

"You know she'll be fine," they point out. They shoot a look at the theatre doors, still closed for this afternoon's auditions, and Opeli nearly sighs in relief because it means Brynn is assuming she's just nervous for their sister.

"Yes, I know," says Opeli evenly. Too evenly. She forces her shoulders to drop but they're no less tight than they were before. "You both just want to be here so badly—"

"Yeah, and we know what that means," they point out. "You're, like, more nervous than we are about this. What the heck is the problem?"

Opeli gives her child a look and forces herself to slump in the chair a little more. "Nothing," she says with a huff. "I just want the best for you both. Is that really such a crime for a mother?"

Brynn only rolls their eyes, but that little twitch of their lips soothes Opeli more than anything else. Admission or no, at least her children know they are loved and that she's proud, which is all that should matter, really. Brynn turns back to their sheet music, satisfied for now, and Opeli goes back to pretending the polish of the walls and the deep pile carpet beneath her heels don't make her whole body want to whither away.

Her own days here were so long ago. They did not result in the glamour she had hoped. Her career was not as long lived as she wanted, and here she is again, back in these halls once more. What would her children say if they knew?

She doesn't want to know. She hopes they never find out.

The theatre door swings open, and Opeli glances up too quickly, hoping it might be El with good news, hoping they can go now—

But it's just one of the instructors, clipboard in hand, sandy blond hair pushed to one side, blue eyes bright under the orange glow of the downlights. He glanced at them and pauses in midstep with the grace only another dancer could have and grins. "You guys waiting for someone?"

"Oh," says Opeli. "Yes, actually. My daughter's in there auditioning."

"Ah," says the instructor. He glances at his clipboard curiously and then studies Opeli's face. Her cheeks warm under his stare and, mortified, she ducks her head. "Briella?"

Opeli twitches her lips. "The family resemblance is that obvious, is it?"

"Well, yeah. And your other—uh—"

"Kid," provides Brynn helpfully without looking up from their sheet music.

"Kid," continues the instructor with a chuckle, "kinda made it obvious. I'm Soren," he adds. "I teach ballroom here so I wasn't judging the ballet auditions, but I will say your daughter's very talented."

"We like to think so," says Opeli, smiling gratefully at him. "When can we expect her to come out?"

Soren glances at the clock on the foyer wall. "Not too much longer, I don't think," he says. "Give it like ten to fifteen. There are only a handful of auditions left." He pauses for a moment, brow knitting together in thought. "You seem familiar."

Opeli's face heats again, this time in panic. "You did just watch my daughter's audition," she says levelly.

"Yeah, but..." He hums. "I dunno, just feels like I've seen you somewhere before."

"I doubt that," says Opeli, almost too quickly. It's fine, she tries to promise herself. How can he possibly know? "I'm sure I'd remember if I'd met you before."

Soren chuckles at that, eyes twinkling, lips quirking upward in a dashing little smile. "I mean, I am pretty memorable," he says with a wink.

Behind her, Brynn makes a noise of disgust.

Soren looks to them, his grin widening. "Don't be like that," he chides. "I can't help that your mom's pretty."

Brynn gags so comically that Opeli laughs, even as red and as mortified as she is. Soren only rolls his eyes and offers his hand out to shake. "Nice to meet you, Mrs... um—"

"Ms," Opeli corrects, "and Opeli is fine."

"Lovely to meet you Opeli," says Soren, inclining his head in a show of gentlemanly respect. "I'll see you around, I expect?"

"Yes, hopefully," says Opeli. "Provided all goes well."

"Got my fingers crossed for all three of you." He holds his hands up, fingers crossed in pairs on both of them, and then offers a mock salute as he takes his leave.

Opeli watches him, trying not to think of the way his eyes had searched her face and the way his trousers hug his hips as he walks away, and when she turns, Brynn is staring at her, mouth open, aghast.

A pause stretches between them. Opeli doesn't know what to say.

The theatre doors swing open and Briella steps into the foyer, grinning from ear to ear. She all but skips to her mother and sibling before she pauses and looks between them. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all, my love," says Opeli quickly, shaking off the stupor."How'd it go?"

"Good!" says El brightly. "I think so, anyway. Results will be posted out to us in a couple of days. Are you okay, Mom? You look a little flushed."

Brynn shakes their head. "You don't even want to know."

[discordiansamba]

Parallell reverse: Gift

Akira could only stare in confusion at the brightly colored confetti now pooled around his feet.

"Did I... miss something?" He asked. "What are we celebrating?"

"Your birthday, of course!" Sven said, already getting a broom to clean up the confetti. "It's October 23rd, right?"

Akira frowned. "Well... yeah. But I don't remember telling you that."

"Oh, you didn't." Sven said, tossing the confetti away in the trash. "I got it from your admission paperwork. Figured you'd never tell me on your own."

Okay. That was fair. He definitely wouldn't have done that- mostly because he didn't see the point. It had been awhile since anyone had celebrated his birthday. At most he'd have foster parents that gave him generic presents while he was still on good terms with them, but it wasn't quite the same as a celebration. And if the spread of food laid out on the table was anything to go off of, Sven planned to celebrate.

(It was also definitely takeout, no matter how much Sven was clearly trying to pass it off as his own cooking. He couldn't fool him. He knew he couldn't cook for shit.)

"Come on, sit down!" Sven said, pulling out a chair at the table. "We've got cake after this!"

Akira's frown just deepened, hesitating at the door. He didn't know what to make of Sven. He was... weird. He'd actually bailed him out after he stole his car. Didn't even press charges. Meanwhile everyone else just started looking at him like he'd grown a second head. They'd all heard he had a history of acting out, but he guessed he must have had them pretty fooled with his 'good kid' act.

...at least, until he couldn't take it anymore and fucked everything up for himself. Just because he could pretend to be someone he wasn't, didn't mean he liked it.

"You didn't have to do this for me." Akira said.

"I didn't," Sven agreed, "-but I did."

Shifting on his feet, Akira finally heaved a sigh. He grabbed the other chair, taking a seat- only for Sven to get up and quickly retrieve something from his bedroom.

It was a present.

Akira stared at him for a long moment, before slowly taking it from him. He glanced at him again, almost looking for permission before he began to unwrap it. Inside was a small box, which upon opening, revealed a pendent that almost looked like...

"Neat, huh?" Sven said. "It's moon rock. Took a little sample of it the last trip up. Thought you'd like it. Made it into a pendent so it could be like a little good luck charm!"

"I thought you weren't allowed to do that." Akira said, arching a brow.

"What the Garrison doesn't know, won't hurt them." Sven smiled.

Akira huffed, taking the pendent in hand. It was just a simple piece of rock, really- maybe it wouldn't mean much to other people, but he'd always had this weird pull towards space ever since he was young. Like he belonged out there- not here, stuck on Earth.

Curling his fingers around the pendent, he gave Sven one of his rare genuine smiles. "...thanks. I love it."

[atamascolily]

@aerialsquid asked for my thoughts on Ling Ya's survival in Thunderbolt Fantasy S4, so let's go!

tl;dr: Lang Wu Yao and Ling Ya are a package deal, I'd be very surprised if Ling Ya was on the chopping block for good.

From their first cameo at the end of The Sword of Life and Death, Lang and Ling Ya have always been together. Even before Ling Ya was Ling Ya (at least in his current form), he was an important component of Lang's life. Lang taking up his mother's pipa marks the start of his journey in Bewitching Melody of the West, and the movie ends with Ling Ya revealing himself coupled with Lang's own self-acceptance and actualization. There has never been a time when the two were separated, and I can't imagine it would start now; Lang losing Ling Ya would mean the loss of his self (and that was evident even before 4x01 confirmed that Ling Ya is the manifestation of Lang's demonic powers). Even without taking the complex nature of their relationship into account, what's a bard without his lute?

Interestingly, while a pipa was present in the original "T.M. Revolution" puppet that eventually became Lang, Ling Ya came much later, when The Sword of Life and Death was in development. I think Urobuchi recognized from the beginning that Lang was fundamentally incomplete without someone like Ling Ya to balance him, and he was right on so many levels.

Ling Ya is Lang Wu Yao's daemon (pun intended)--a fundamental part of himself that takes on separate form. To put it in Jungian terms, Ling Ya is Lang's animus, who embodies everything that Lang is not and yet belongs to him--is him on every level that matters. This is why Ling Ya always knows what Lang is thinking, why he gives voice to what Lang cannot or will not say--not to mention all the Freudian slips! The animus is the source of creativity, of passion...the fullest expression of Lang's spirit through his music, which is something that they make together.

Outside of fiction, most people do not have their animus as a separate entity, but even in-universe, Lang is exceptional in many ways. Ling Ya's existence is perfectly understandable given the nature of Lang's powers and heritage--but I think it's also because of the horrific abuses he suffered at his mother's hands.

Bewitching Melody of the West is absolutely heartbreaking because it's very clear Lang is projecting all of his doubts about his mother--all the criticisms of her, all the truths he knows deep down in his soul are correct--into Ling Ya, so he can block them out and ignore it. Or to put it a slightly different way, he's disassociating in response to trauma.

Or to quote that scene directly:

Voice: Come on, I know you hear me. Làng Wū Yáo: Be quiet. I don't hear anything. Voice: You sure seem to be answering me, if that's the case. Làng Wū Yáo: There's no one here but Mother and I. If anyone else was around, they'd have to be some kind of demon. (my emphasis) Voice: Even a demon would be worried if they saw what she was doing to you, kid. Làng Wū Yáo: Mother said the demons lurk within our hearts… so your voice doesn't belong to anyone!

Mother said the demons lurk within our hearts. Post-S3, this is a chilling admission that Lang's mother truly loved Azibelpher, and she blames herself for being deceived by him. Love is a weakness, love is a weapon, and she is determined to ensure that Lang won't suffer the way she did, even if it means damaging him in the process. But it's also a huge hint about what Ling Ya truly is... he is the demon that lurks inside Lang's heart and always has been. The call was coming from inside the house the whole time!!!

For Socrates, a daemon was a little voice within that whispered to him of the truth. For Lang, his daemon takes the shape of a wisecracking uncle, the humorous and caring father figure he has never known and desperately craves. (In Jungian psychology, the animus/a usually manifests as the opposite gender of the personality in question but in my interpretation the gendered aspect is far less relevant.) Lang's early life is so thoroughly dominated by his mother, it's not surprising to me that he creates a male figure to counter her voice. Ling Ya is the "small still voice" that always gives excellent advice, and most of the problems in Lang's life come directly from ignoring him.

As of 4x02, Lang has fallen into Azibelpher's trap and overbalanced, transforming into a demon as the previously repressed side of his heritage awakens. I can see why people are worried that something might happen to Ling Ya, and the danger is real. Nevertheless, for all his reputation for painful twists, Urobuchi's character deaths aren't solely for shock value--they always serve a narrative purpose. Which begs the question, what exactly would be gained by Ling Ya's death, beyond merely hurting the audience (and Lang)?

And while there's no question that the story could go there, and there are themes that could be explored from this, the other question is: Is that what Thunderbolt Fantasy is really about? And unless I've very much misjudged this show, I think it isn't.

TBF might have its tragic elements, but the story is not, ultimately, a tragedy. Having Lang go berserk because Ling Ya sacrificed himself might be dramatic... but if Ling Ya is truly a part of Lang, then I can't imagine him staying down for long. If Ling Ya is gone, Lang will find a way to bring him back...because that's who Lang is and always has been, and thus far his arc has always involved him becoming more conscious and open about their relationship, rather than less.

I think Lang's arc going forward will culminate with him accepting and balancing his dual nature, and finding his true purpose in life, with a corresponding transformation both Ling Ya and himself. However, I don't think this will necessarily require Ling Ya to disappear entirely, because for better or worse, Lang is most truly himself when the two are together--they are two halves of a whole. And while it's possible Ling Ya might be absorbed into Lang and the two become one person in the end, the end result would be so different from the character(s) we've known up to this point that I'm not sure I would recognize him anymore.

Could it happen, though? Absolutely. But I'll be very surprised if it does--not in the "who could have seen this coming?" way, but in the "wow, I really did not expect them to go there" way, because it runs so drastically counter to everything Lang has been thus far. Maybe I'm wrong about everything and Urobuchi will permanently break up the band.... but if so, I'll believe it when I see it.

[lordofthestrix]

Continued from (x) "You are not afraid to make a fair share of contrasting assumptions regarding my history." Tristan listened to her tale with crystalline interest. "Good. Deduction is best suited for souls gifted in instinct. And in a way you are perfectly right. My human life was informed of its meaning to the point of suffocation at times. Nevertheless, by the moment I found myself in a similar place to where you stand, the uncertainty of eternity unfolding before my eyes in the awakening of what you could call my own brand of resurrection, there was nothing left. No trace of birthright or sanctuary. My own spirit often betrayed me." His gaze navigated back to Gia's hand and its refusal to let her play. "In maddening hours I experienced the frenetic need to see my own blood spilled. Not in the hunt for self-punishment but the desperate, blind desire to recover myself. My identity had been tainted by the one who guided me there and each of my days I felt both poisoned and shattered." He spoke in candid aloofness. As if retelling someone else's memories. There was no sign of the smallest weakness in the admission. If anything, he appeared distantly amused or even proud by their result. "If your judgement is correct, if I'm indeed important, it isn't because it was delivered to me with joyous ease. The universe remained predictably and profoundly indifferent to my ordeal. One single person I cared about. And for reasons far too elaborated to summarize, most dawns she couldn't even look in my direction without confusing me with the one who caused her own suffering. In the torturing struggle of more than one endless evening I was cursed with the possibility that she might heal quicker in my absence." At this there was a much more gelid and darker visiting cadence to his voice. But it was no longer there by the next sentence. "Following your line of reasoning, there was no intended´place in the world for me. Perchance there wasn't. It didn't matter to me then. It shouldn't matter to you now. We forge ourselves." The shadow of his smirk, as if subtly sharing a muted secret with her, returned one final time. "Try to remember that not all things that taste the flames are fated to turn to ash, Gia. You are hurt, yes. And some suffering is unavoidable. A greeting card of new beginnings. It doesn't make you less than you were. Nor does it prevent you from reaching new heights. Whatever you become...That is entirely yours to claim."

He didn't comment on her final acceptance. Taking it instead as his pleased mark of departure. "It was an interesting pleasure to meet you. I'll be in touch soon." He mused with a lingering last look once at her side. Effortless joining in the shadows that introduced him and leaving her as the only vampire in the auditorium.

@touchedbydestiny

[mermaidsirennikita]

Yeah, that trailer had me going “well that is not really the Camilla of the book who is a hell of a lot more nuanced than the sad wife whose husband is in love with someone else that trailer shows.”

I've seen critiques of Camila's characterization that I don't think are invalid--that she's too much of the "passive Latina wife of the white guy who just lets him cheat on her with a white woman"... And in the context of how TJR has written Latinx people in general, there's definitely a conversation to be had.

But I don't think, based purely off the trailer so I could be wrong, they were trying to fix that here. I think that they wanted a more traditional love triangle. I'm not anti-triangle, and I love this book's triangle soooo much, but I love it because of the nuance. I love that it's more like a love quadrangle because it's not just Camila Billy Daisy, it's Camila Billy Drugs Daisy. One of Billy and Daisy's shared connections is music and artistry, but the other is... drugs.

I think that it's very possible that, had there not been any kids in the picture, Billy would've left Camila for Daisy. This doesn't mean I think he wasn't in love with Camila; it means I think you can absolutely be in love with more than one person at the same time... just probably not totally equally or in the same manner, and at some point in that story, by his own very begrudging admission, he was more in love with Daisy than he was with Camila. I think the prospect of kids and family and home called to Billy and kept him there, which is VERY REAL. At points, things that are not you may be what keep you partner in your marriage, but that does not mean that y'all can't build off of that, like I believe Billy and Camila did. It's a remarkably mature love triangle in that sense.

But if the kids hadn't existed, I think that Billy could've gone off the deep end with Daisy, chosen her, and then... I don't know. One or both of them would've probably died of an overdose. Because their love for each other was very real. So was their love of drugs. I think that with years of sobriety under their belts, Daisy and Billy could possibly have a future! But at that point, they were gonna die if they got together, and he knew this, and that's why having the tether that was his family was good and a relief. And they had a happy life together, so it was a net positive! But a happy life together doesn't mean.... giving up things. One thing the book nails, to me, is that you very rarely can have EVERYTHING you want. You can be totally happy choosing some things over others, but you still had to give those other things up and that's a loss. Sometimes, happiness comes with a loss.

But I think that what makes Camila not the typical "jealous wife" OR passive wife is:

--While we are getting an unreliable version of Camila in that she's talking to her child and I don't think she'd just tell Julia that she thought her dad was going to leave her outright.... I think that generally, Camila was one of if not the most emotionally mature person in the book, and so when she says she didn't believe Billy was going to leave her, I think she's telling the truth. Mostly. I think that she had doubts and she was jealous; but she also knew deep down that he wouldn't do it, based off their very real trust and love and bond.

--Camila is mature enough to recognize that Billy can be in love with two people at once and that it doesn't matter because his choice has been made. But I think what people often miss is that Camila also makes a choice. She didn't have to choose to stay with Billy. Camila isn't a friendless nobody who couldn't find a way to survive. If Camila wanted to leave Billy, I think she would. It would be hard, but she would. In recognizing that Billy is in love with Daisy and there are things Daisy can offer Billy that Camila never will be able to, she has to make a tough call, and she makes it of her own free will.

--There's that entire moment in the book that people gloss over where Camila spent the day with an old flame, and Billy is basically like "it was don't ask, don't tell". I fully believe Camila fucked that guy. At min, she heavily considered it. And like... who could blame her either way when her husband is having an existential crisis over his bandmate? Billy can't even fucking say shit because he knows that whatever he did was WORSE. He fucked some randoms back in the day, and he fell in love with someone else--and I think TJR is undeniably saying that the emotional affair was 100% much more hurtful than any random fucks Billy OR Camila had. I think that by giving Camila that complexity, the idea of the passive wife is called into question. And I think that Billy and Camila knew what happened, but would of course never tell their fucking kid that.

--Lol idk, I'm not above Camila being emotional and jealous because that's so valid. But the Camila I know was never a "her or me" girl because she knew it was done. It was her. It was always her. That kind of "lady of the manor", "he may do what he wishes but he comes home to me, he's MINE" type doesn't get enough main character play in fiction and I hate that we don't see enough of it. Because I think it's very real. I think there are many marriages that function and function that way. Sometimes not well. Sometimes, though--people work it out and find a happiness. And I was fascinated with Camila in the book because of that.

[rageborne]

10   INPUT " @lunaetis​​​ ",     A    $ IF  ASK (Q  $)  =  0   THEN GOTO REPLY PRINT  “ don’t just stand there, looking at me. ” ,   A   $ INPUT  "unprompted_message";   S " if it hurts too much, you don't have to feel. " arms were wrapped around him despite her own stature being much smaller than his own. it didn't matter, though, hae-in realized. how it didn't matter as long as he was here. quietly, she rested her lips to his temple in a kiss, leaving it there while words came in a whisper. " if it's too much to feel, you don't have to. just stay here with me for a while. you're safe here, i promise. "

his moments halt, frozen in the moment as though he were a statue. and perhaps he could be considered one if the circumstances were different. if he was simply standing still for hours on end rather than frozen in surprise. his circuits are nearly frying, he realizes. safe ... she says he's safe here and yet it scares him; to let down his guard and consider himself at peace. there has never been safety before. he was never allowed to let down his guard before. but he wants to, wants to try. and he wants to feel again - ridiculously enough, he comes to see that even with his emotions shut off that pesky human side of him is never truly dormant. that wanting things, wishing for things was utterly, foolishly human in nature and not what the codes in his mechanical parts were made for.

he looks at her owlishly, unblinking before reminding himself it might be odd if he doesn't, and so he blinks. once. twice. three times before he stares blankly. or at least he wants his expression to be blank, if it weren't for the miniscule way his eyes are ever so slightly widened and his lips have parted the tiniest bit. he's wanted to feel safe for longer than anyone could possibly know, and here hae-in was, promising him exactly that. if he could cry he might have, but instead there's the tiniest shake of his shoulders before he trembles like a leaf, even when he melts into her embrace, when the tension leaves his body. it's too much and he can feel something dormant slowly waking up, as if the machine in him knows it could not possibly process everything that his memories and thoughts are putting him through at the very moment.

「 i just want to be someone again. 」

he mutters, shimmies out of the embrace before he can take gentle hold of her hands, close his eyes and lower his stance until he can rest his forehead against hers - until he can lift their hands to hold hers near his chest where his heart would be beating if it were still there. where instead a pump whirrs and works away to keep him going. he sounds deflated, tired. but also hopeful, a little. as though there's something that's been sparked to life with her words and genuine actions. he sighs - or at least lets out a sound that sounds like it - and opens one eye, carefully scanning her face for any trace of deceit. and yet, against all expectations, against every ounce of his body wanting to be wary and distrust her like he distrusts everyone else he can't find it in himself to be worry of someone so sincere. so he lowers their hands again slowly, holds hers like they were a precious treasure that could break with the faintest hint of pressure. when he speaks again his voice is low and as soft as he can sound with his artificial voice box.

「 i was scared of my emotions because of you. 」

the admission makes him hesitate and if he could feel nervous he might, but his emotions are returning slowly at the pace of a snail and for now he is stuck feeling surprisingly at ease with the words he's said out loud. he offers a tired smile, one that unlike any other smile he usually gives is sincere even if it is thin. he shut his emotions down in an attempt to fix what he would have rather forgotten, to quiet the noises in his head. but he could never compete with those. even when his emotions were dormant they were there, haunting him and taunting him and ruining him. and yet ... they were drowned out when he focuses, when he can pick out the faint sound of a heart beating. and for once he is so glad that he was turned into a machine because the very sound of that calms him more than anything ever could, makes him feel at ease even with the overwhelming dizziness that comes with emotions slowly returning to the surface, more than they had before he shut them down in the first place. his expression, despite being mostly unreadable from a distance is almost soft from close up. mostly neutral except for the tiniest quirk upwards in the corners of his lips and the faintest trace of an actual smile to usually dead eyes.

「 i like you. and that scares me, more than anything. 」

it's such an ironic thought, considering that their entire time knowing each other it was just mutually beneficial facades and lies playing a part. and yet here he was, caring about someone he was supposed to only be a helpful little alibi for. and yet a hopeful little part of him hopes that perhaps she likes him, too. she wouldn't be this kind if she didn't, would she? but even so, he feels at ease. whether it's because his emotions aren't fully back or because at least he finally got these pesky thoughts that burdened him for a while now out ... he isn't sure. but he doesn't bother thinking about it either, instead focusing his hearing on every little sound that comes from her. the way her heart beats, the way she breathes. he doesn't usually notice these sounds because usually his enhanced hearing is bothersome and doesn't help, but now it quells the noises and thoughts that threaten to flood his mind and that's all he could possibly need right now, no matter her reaction.

[khaosophist]

Hmmm.

I shared my love of Midna, and, it seems, taught someone about 'Shortstacks'.

Of course there's a huge difference between the Midna in the game, and the Midna I imagine. In the game, she's cute, a sweet, and strong willed cursed princess using everything she can to save her kingdom. There's nothing sexual about it unless one has a thing for getting ordered around by a brat. I'd always considered the curves I'd give to Midna as a way to make her more attractive. However, even after the changes my brother in law felt like she was just a child with thick thighs, and large breasts. I've never seen a child with such proportions. So like, does he see shortness as Childness? My wife is relatively short. Does that mean he somehow sees her less for it? When I pressed he told me that the fact the fused shadows didn't fit perfectly, and seemed too large for her in the image I showed him, that it gave her a playfulness like a child. He also stated that it was okay for my wife to have her curves as she matured, because there's no other version of her. I guess he doesn't see curviness as matureness? Yet he knows of Midna's true form, so he knows she's not a child. I'm giving this thought, cause there's nothing else to think about.

In that moment it felt good to see a different perspective. I explained the meaning of 'stacked' and 'shortstack'. The fact that some are goblins was alien to him. I found it hilarious since, if you don't look into shortstacks, you'd assume a really ugly goblin instead of the representations that are indicative of shortstacks, like he did.

What bothered me was that he equated playfulness with Childness. I disagree? I guess. Like, I'm a playful person, I LARP for instance, but I don't feel like a child. Play. When does 'play' become 'hobby'? I'm trying to see the scale between a child's play, and a person's hobby. Is there a difference between playing video games, and having video games as a hobby? Foreplay? Roleplay? Like does he believe there's a moment where a child no longer plays, and becomes 'mature'? Else, does he see it as a childish trait? What does it mean to be childish? Isn't being with someone that can play with you important? Playing around?

Playing allows me to push back on the things I remember from childhood. Which, sadly, are usually negative. Playing makes me feel like I can be loved at any state of my life. That I could have been childhood sweethearts with my wife. It makes me feel like there's a coherent line between who I was with who I am to help understand why I want to be myself. I think I've been projecting my experiences with anime and such on him, and that he's much more vanilla than I thought. I'm glad I don't see my wife as a child just because she's bubbly or playful. Then again, my brother in law is condescending. It makes sense to think this if jadedness is seen as being 'realistic' as if, that because one is playful, then surely they don't see 'the truth'. Else one would be jaded.

Surely, one cannot overcome the 'harsh realities'. We must be delusional...but, I'm putting words in his mouth, forgive my rhetoric. I think I trusted him too much. I almost told him I was a furry, just so anyone else knew this. I wanted to tell him because he felt like a friend. But his reaction to what I shared showed a drastic difference of perspective, and maybe he didn't think it was the sharing of equal perspectives, but rather the admissions of a delusional man. In the end, it doesn't matter. I'd rather be myself. I just wish it wasn't so awkward.

My wife is my best friend. I just wish I'd feel it sooner. I'm so isolated in my own way. I shouldn't expect others to treat me the same way she does, and that's okay. I'll have to start telling others who I am. Whenever that will be is up to me. I know it's coming...I'd rather my true self be clear. Consequences are part of life, and if those I trust can't accept me, then that's fine. Less effort, and more focus for those who do.

[antianakin]

This doesn't bother me as much because while it IS being used in a specific context, it's not such specific advice that it's ONLY applicable to the situation with Luke and the x-wing or even just to using the Force.

Yoda's advice is often used in specific contexts, but it's vague enough to be applied to other situations when done correctly. He uses this advice for Luke because it's relevant to Luke's situation here. He's half-assing the assignment because he's tired and annoyed and frustrated, which means he's going into it already assuming he's going to fail.

This is why I used the example of Kanan using it in Rebels. It's such a wonderful example because he DOES use it incorrectly at first, he just kind-of tosses it at Ezra during a basic lesson on blocking things with the Force I think (or dodging them, I don't remember the precise context, but it's a basic lesson on using the Force) and it doesn't work AT ALL. The problem isn't with Ezra's commitment truly and so the advice is absolutely useless and doesn't help Ezra learn anything. But after Kanan actually THINKS about it more, he ultimately ends up figuring out how to apply the advice to HIS situation because he's letting his fears about training Ezra keep him from committing to being Ezra's teacher and that lack of commitment is the ACTUAL problem. Kanan's situation is not all that similar to Luke's, the problem isn't with his ability to use the Force, but simply in his ability to COMMIT TO THE TASK AT HAND.

The advice, to me, boils down to being more about fear again than belief. It's about not letting fear consume you so much that you refuse to really put your all into a task or a choice. There's a difference between "be scared but do it anyway" and basically quitting before you've even started. "Do or do not, there is no try" comes across to me a lot like "You'll never succeed if you've convinced yourself you're never going to no matter what you do." And that is advice that can be applied to many different situations, it doesn't HAVE to just be applied to using the Force.

That being said, it can obviously be MISAPPLIED based on people not understanding the advice, which is what happens with Kanan. He has no idea what the quote means by his own admission, so he can't actually apply the advice correctly and it ends up unhelpful to Ezra.

You can go through the same process with pretty much all of Yoda's advice, too. His quote about arrogance to Obi-Wan isn't JUST about Obi-Wan's own situation with Anakin or just about teaching someone with learning disabilities, but can be applied more generally to any situation where you think you know better than anyone else, especially people with more experience than you. And the advice he gives to Anakin about mourning is general by design anyway since Anakin gives him very little to go off of, but it's not even necessarily about, say, only mourning other people, but can be applied to any time in your life where something changes and you have to learn how to adapt to it. His advice, more generally, is "learn to let go of what you fear to lose" and to celebrate what IS good still in your new reality rather than simply yearning for what's no longer there forever. Move forward, don't get stuck in the past. This can be applied to situations like, say, moving to a new city, or your favorite piece of clothing getting destroyed, or not getting the job you wanted.

So, in some ways, I DO think that "do or do not, there is no try" was a guiding principle of Yoda's and something any Jedi would have been taught because the lesson about not letting fear control you is something we see many Jedi learning throughout their lives, even if the lesson is said in different words. The LANGUAGE Yoda uses here is directly responding to Luke's language ("I'll try"), but the advice he's imparting is not quite as specific and is a lesson he HAS taught to many different students in a myriad of different ways when they got down on themselves or stuck on something. "Do or do not, there is no try" isn't truly that far off of "Learn to let go of everything you fear to lose", it's just slightly different words being used.

Do you have any thoughts on Yoda's “Miss them do not, mourn them do not,” line to Anakin in ROTS?

I'm aware of the context in which he gives it, that being Anakin wanting advice regarding concerning premonitions he's been having, while also being vague about them due to how they concern the subject of a relationship he knows very well is forbidden to a Jedi. And I don't consider it the crux of his advice there - I feel like he's ultimately trying to tell Anakin to accept the inevitability of loss and learn to move on from it, a lesson he'll inevitably fail at - but I have recently had someone claim to me that the line indicates the Jedi reject the idea of a grieving process (as if they aren't shown holding or attending funerals in TPM and TCW).

Part of what fans don't always understand about Yoda is that he can't always be taken LITERALLY because he is intended to be someone whose dialogue makes you think. The fucked up grammar and syntax is there by design to force you as a listener to think about what he said more.

So what Yoda is saying very literally amounts to "don't feel bad when people die because instead you're supposed to feel happy" when what he means on a deeper level is "don't lose yourself to your grief and instead accept that death is a natural part of life that no one can change" with the added comfort of "the people you love will rejoin the Force which you can always literally feel and connect to."

The other line of Yoda's that I think gets taken too literally is when Yoda makes the comment to Obi-Wan about Jedi becoming arrogant in AOTC. Taken literally, Yoda is condemning the entire Order, or at least a certain generation of it. But I think the subtext of it is supposed to be that Obi-Wan PERSONALLY is becoming arrogant and it's something he should think about and reflect on, especially as it relates to his relationship to his younger student.

We see a good in-universe example of the process you're intended to go through in Rebels where Kanan throws out the "do or do not, there is no try" line at Ezra without having any clue what it means and he has to admit to as much when Ezra asks for an explanation. But by the end of that episode, he's been forced to think about it more and he DOES get it and is capable of explaining it to Ezra. It was a line that seemed simple, which is why he thought he could just say it to Ezra and have it work, but it didn't do anything until Kanan took the extra time to really think about what Yoda MEANT by it and how to apply it to his own struggles. Taken very literally, Yoda is telling people not to try which feels very negative and discouraging. But it's not a line that's meant to be taken literally in the first place and anyone who's thought about the line and the context of it for longer has figured out what Yoda is actually saying, which is more about the importance of commitment to a goal.

So when Yoda says "miss them do not, mourn them do not" to Anakin, you COULD interpret it literally as an indication that the Jedi have no sort of grieving process, but I think that's doing a disservice to Yoda as a character and the way his dialogue is often intended to be understood on a less literal level.

[mydaroga]

hi! your tags on that paul and mick post about the thing that ppl cant handle about paul is that he doesn’t really need you, i was wondering if you could elaborate more on that?

Hello nonny! Thanks for asking. I'm going to of course say up front that I am not Paul McCartney, nor do I know him, and all this is pure speculation/interpretation on my part and others might be equally valid. But!

My overwhelming impression of Paul is that he does not let people close easily. We hear this from many quarters, that his friendliness masks an intensely private nature. By his own admission, he is not free with his emotions; there are even times he calls his relationship with John into question and implies it was more proximity/accident than not. When Jane broke up with him, even with as far apart as they'd grown as people, he was left without an emotional confidante. This implies he didn't really avail himself of the multitude of people around him for emotional support. He is intensely loyal to a core group of people, but that circle is fairly small.

Ugh I am so wordy apologies, I'll make a cut for everyone's convenience...

I'd have to look up the quotes and I'm not sure where to begin, but we hear from later colleagues that the intimacy fostered by working together didn't really extend, for Paul, into a real emotional bond. I say this because we've heard from Wings members over the years who complained/lamented that they thought they were closer to Paul than he was to them. Many of those who worked with him, like Elvis Costello, saw their relationship sort of disappear without leaving much of a lasting trace. There is nothing wrong with having working relationships with no fuller emotional bond--my point is, over the years people seem to have thought they had more of one than they did. I suspect Paul being eager to seem open and friendly, his ability to listen and draw you out, could lead to an impression you were closer than you really were.

As for his social life, while obviously there are friendships Paul maintained for long periods of time, and while he always seems to like having someone there, he feels like an out of sight, out of mind sort of person. He and John are very close when in proximity. But when John moves to Weybridge, Paul goes over to work, but we don't hear about them really socializing (until John is practically living with him). With his girlfriends, like Maggie, he'd disappear for awhile and then just sort of turn up when he wanted her. Francie reported Jim asking her to convince him to call home more often. Even as a child, Paul's need for friends was noticeably low, and he relied primarily on Mike and his family for society, despite being chummy with other boys.

What the Mick story brings home, for me, is that while Paul is capable of maintaining friendships and relationships and obviously cares deeply, and he's happy to enjoy your company and indeed wants some company about, he's not going to seek you out specifically. I think he's an intensely private person, and his requirement for close relationships is lower than that of some people. For example, once he's with Linda it's clear his need for anyone else goes way down. And he keeps her within arm's reach until her death.

Where this gets him--or others, really--"in trouble" is where his sociable and gregarious nature might be seen to imply a closeness that is not actually being offered. I think it's easy to fall under his spell and think, "oh I'm special to him" when really, he's just being charming. So he's not going to Mick Jagger's house because he doesn't particularly care about Mick or Marianne. He doesn't dislike them. But he can't be bothered to go out of his way, because it's not their company specifically he's seeking. And if company comes to him, it's just as well because it doesn't really matter as much who it is.

This is way too long, I'm sorry, but as usual I want to make sure I'm hitting enough points to make an argument. My point is, there's nothing inherently wrong with Paul being charming and sociable, but I think with most people it's impersonal, and if you're on the wrong side of that and think his friendliness is an invitation, it might be easy to get hurt. John is similarly known to move on from certain people, but I think it feels different because John is not invested in making it seem like he likes everyone.

Of course, I could be making some unwarranted leaps, so as always I invite you or anyone to weigh in!

[erensrag]

the one -

armin x yn (wc: 12720)

warnings: nsfw/smut, yandere armin, obsession, mentions of stalking, manipulation, toxic relationship, armin being a creep in love basically. summary makes it seem like he kidnaps reader lmao he doesn’t

summary: having seen enough of you managing without him, armin decides to finally take matters into his own hands and make you his.

armin doesn't understand.

he thought he planned everything out perfectly. he gave you your space, hasn’t given anyone the slightest suggestion of his feelings for you—at least the people you both know. he wanted you to come to him willingly, no persuasion or sweet talks.

he did everything perfectly. he's the perfect student, always has been. has gotten straight a's since the moment he entered his first grade, received a full scholarship to some college he could care less about instead of his dream one because that's the one you chose, even helped you with your college admission letters. he's well off, could've—could take care of you your entire life. he's loved by everyone on campus and even in high school, he was the apple of everyone's eye.

you knew how perfect he was back then and how he's thriving right now so how the hell...of all people why him? he clenches the beer can in his hand, watching you stumble up the stairs with none other than his best friend.

this isn't like the other boys you've dated. he can't just threaten or throw cash at him until he realizes you'll always belong to armin and leave you alone. eren doesn't listen to anyone and even if he did try any threats, it'd just ruin the nice guy reputation he’d had spent years building up.

he throws the can onto the sofa, immediately trailing after you two before he can stop himself. he thought spending the summer in everyone’s home town would've just brought them closer—specifically brought you and him closer, that was the plan after all. not you and eren. you two have barely spoken three words to each other your entire lives.

it doesn't make sense.

he thought he knew everything about you. he had organized every single detail regarding you in sections and tucked the pictures in that little box that's been tucked under his dorm bed for years. maybe he gave too much space? college was undoubtedly stressful, he must've become too busy with his studies to look over you. to make sure you made the right decisions and weren't tainted by the hands of everyone around you.

he had screwed up.

but he intends to make it right. to put you back on the right track, the one you're supposed to be on. the one that leads you straight to him.

he found the two of you in some random bedroom, disgust immediately taking over him at the sight. is this who you were now? a few months of not talking to one another and you were already ruining your life by letting yourself get fucked by eren of all people in a bedroom you didn't even know the owner of?

his nails dig into his palms as he watches through the creek in the door, you guys didn't even bother to close it all the way. as if you wanted an audience. eren was already slamming into you, like you were nothing more than a toy dying to be used and defiled. like a whore. is that who you are now y/n? a whore? the more he stares, the more it seems like it. you’re on your stomach, hands clenching the sheets and head thrown back in pleasure.

the pace of his thrusts has you letting out high pitched moans, a bit of saliva sliding down your chin. "e—eren." you cry out and armin would've walked in there and punched the daylights out of his own best friend because no one deserves to hear you calling their name out like that except for him. it's unfair. so unfair he could fucking die out of fury right now. but he didn't. he stood there, frozen because hitting his best friend—anyone is out of character for him.

it would've raised eyebrows and questions he doesn't want to answer. but still...the way eren snaps his cock in you sloppily, the slap of skin against skin filling the room makes him bite down on his tongue to the point of blood. the anger is consuming him and he's not sure he can watch this torture any longer.

"y—you're—n—ngh so big, eren." you moan like a bitch in heat, tongue almost lolling out as eren grabs your hair, pulling your head back even more so he can plant a disgusting kiss on your lips.

at least you're still dressed, outfit clinging to your sweaty body. at least he doesn't get to see anything too valuable. at least armin still has that for himself. it's when eren grips your clothed breast that he decides enough is enough, he's ready to open the door and storm in the room but a hand is quickly grabbing his forearm.

he freezes, has someone been watching him? did they see anything? fuck, are they going to think he's some huge pervert? judging by his actions tonight, maybe he is. he slowly turns around, closing the door in front of him before the person can ask any questions.

it's historia. her pupils are dilated as she leans onto armin's arm. the booming sound of the music from downstairs drowns out whatever she's slurring out right now but armin pretty's sure he has a gist of it. "let's get you home." he sighs, placing his hand on her shoulder.

she shakes her head, "we—gotta...find y/n." she says a bit louder, clenching her eyes shut before opening them again. "my head hurts." she whines.

"that's what happens when you decide to act like a damn delinquent." he mutters bitterly more to himself, it's not like she'll remember any of this tomorrow. "now let's go home before mom kills us."

"but—y/n. we came with her, we can't just...just..." she clenches the front of his shirt before letting out a choked gag.

armin huffs, almost throwing her off before she ruins his clothes but even as annoying as she is, leaving his sister in a place like this isn't such a good idea. especially for his reputation. he would take y/n with him as well but it seems she's too preoccupied. too tainted to think straight.

but like he said, he'll make sure to fix that. he has two months to get everything back to the way they were. and maybe even a little better.

he's waited years for your friendship with him to blossom into something more but it seems nothing will happen without him egging a few things on first.

he spends the entire night tossing and turning, nightmares of the party before repeating in his head over and over again.

if it was anything else, he thinks he would've been able to let it go after taking a few precautions. but this isn't anything else. this is big and it only spirals the blotchy jealously he's tried hard to keep under wraps over the years, threatening to invade his thoughts with vile images.

he's awake long enough to hear the front door opening at three in the morning. immediately getting up and walking towards his slightly open door, knowing it's you. historia and his mother are sound asleep and besides his father who's rarely home due to work, you're the only one left with a key.

he made sure to pressure historia into getting you one as soon as possible the second he found out you were spending the summer with them. groaning fills the silence of the house followed by you stumbling up the stairs. he expects to hear you go into the guest room you're staying in or historia's bedroom but the bathroom door opens instead.

a few minutes passes before he hears you groaning again, this time louder and his feet inch towards the hallway, wanting nothing more than to go to you. but then that angry feeling rises again and an acidic taste resides on his tongue. he doesn't want to be angry at you, he's never been angry at you. he should be furious with eren only. the way he took advantage of your kindness and obliviousness isn't right. if you were sober, you never would've gone for him.

he sighs heavily, walking towards the bathroom door. you're slouched over the toilet, gagging into it and he races over. the concern is etched on his face as his hand rests on your back, startling you. you turn your head, movements sluggish. "armin?"

he didn't even have the decency to walk you inside? make sure you got into bed properly? fucking asshole.

"you okay?" he asks. it's the most you two have spoken to each other all summer.

"y-yeah." you wipe your lips. "sleepy." you murmur.

he gets up, putting his arm around your waist as he helps you stand. "rinse your mouth." he mutters and you obey, going to the sink to put some water in your mouth and spitting it out. "let's get you to bed."

you two stumble out of the bathroom, he makes sure to keep his hands around your waist. his chest constricting with want as he gets to feel you, it's been ages since you two have touched each other. he eyes your bedroom door, that's where he originally wanted to take you but he can't help but think back to that party. at how eren got to experience everything he wasn't able to. then he sees the bruises on your neck, he grits his teeth so hard he's sure they're going to chip any second.

no. he deserves this little thing. it's not like he's going to do anything inappropriate, he's not like that jackass who decided he deserved to touch you like that. he just wants to be near you. it's been awhile, too long. and it's not like you two haven't slept in the same bed before.

that's what he tells himself as he guides the both of you towards his own bedroom, slowly placing you on the bedsheets to which you immediately snuggle into. he eyes flicker towards the closet door, contemplating whether to take out a random t-shirt and place you in it but you'd just be waking up with questions he wouldn't be able to answer. the armin everyone knows can't even look at a girl without blushing, let alone undress her.

so he opts for just laying down besides you on the sheets, he can explain this if you wake up confused. that you just drunkly stumbled in his room and laid down next to him. he turns his head, captivated by every rise and fall of your chest. your eyelashes fluttering as you snuggle deeper into the pillow, letting out incoherent whimpers.

his fingers slowly trace your cheek, chest burning badly with want. all he wants to do is touch, touch, touch. you just look so beautiful, so serene. and he can't help brush a thumb over your bottom lip. the same lips that were moaning out eren's just a few hours ago. that dark feeling is back and he can't help but press his finger down on your lip harshly, you let out a tiny whine but keep your eyes closed, too sleepy to really comprehend what's going on.

what's so special about him? he doesn't get it. eren's a meathead. he isn't fit to take care of you, to cater to your every need and make sure you never have to want for anything. to be ready to do whatever is necessary to keep you happy, even if it means hurting those you don't realize are harming you.

he leans forward, lips ghosting over yours but never touching. no, he wants you to be awake and alert for when your lips finally meet. so you can see no one else in this world but him deserves you. but fuck, he wants to kiss you. your lips look so soft, so addicting, like they were made for him. and they were. every inch of your body was created for him just like his was for you.

he needs to make this right, make you see what was standing in front of you all long. he could punch himself for not realizing he needed to act on this sooner.

but he will now. he'll make sure to fix everything.

armin wakes up before you, not wanting to be in the room when you finally snapped out of your slumber. fortunately, you don't stay asleep too long, waking up only thirty minutes after.

he's already made breakfast by then, blueberry pancakes just the way you like them. you step into the kitchen and he almost drops the glass of orange juice he's holding. you're dressed in his oversized hoodie with some shorts, it practically engulfs your frame as you awkwardly sit on a stool.

you're wearing his clothes.

his clothes are touching your skin right now. making contact with your chest, stomach and breasts. he gulps, placing the glass down. "m-morning."

"morning..." you trail off, slowly drumming your fingers on the counter. "pancakes?"

he quickly pushes a plate towards you, he shamelessly designed it like it held a five course meal instead of simple pancakes but you seem to appreciate it as you gasp. "this looks amazing."

"did you sleep well?" he deliberately asks that question just to see you squirm.

you tense up, picking up the fork as you jab the pancakes. "yeah...uh sorry i was in your room and...bed. must've stumbled in there last night."

"it's fine." he smiles. "i slept on the couch, no worries." the lie flows out as if he didn't spend the last few hours cuddling you like you were going to run away any second.

"oh."

"what?"

"nothing." you shake your head, chewing.

"no really, what?" he presses, leaning on the counter towards you.

"well...i mean i wouldn't have a trouble if you slept in the same bed, it's not like we haven't done it before."

"that was a long time ago." he says but the fact you remembered fills him up with glee. so your mind hasn't been completely infiltrated with his so called best friend, you still think of armin.

"yeah but we were really close before...you know. i'm sure—"

"before what?" he asks, forcing the confusion to appear on his face even though he knows exactly what you're talking about.

you fidget, "before you started to distance yourself." you sigh, perhaps growing a bit agitated under his intense gaze.

"hmm." he hums. "well, studies and all that, you know how it is. but i'm sure you found plenty of people to fill in that hole i left behind."

you raise an eyebrow, "well...i wouldn't—"

"did you miss me, though y/n?" he places his hand under his chin, staring at you. "you walked into my room like it was second nature, snuggled right into my bed like it was home. it was pretty cute."

you nibble on your bottom lip, "i'm sorry about that. gosh, that's so embarrassing."

"answer the question." he urges, tone being a little bit more stern then he intended.

your eyes widen for a moment, "yeah—uh i missed you. didn't you miss me?" you ask shyly.

a far contrast from the moans that were leaving your lips last night. "of course i missed you." he nods. "you, me and historia were such a tight nip group back then. but then college came around and things changed. we changed, didn't we?"

"yeah, i guess."

"you never used to go to parties before and now look at you, stumbling in at three am like some drunkard. makes me wonder what else you've been up to." he continues nonchalantly, plucking a berry into his mouth.

you lick your lips, hands clenching around the fork. a few seconds pass by before you let out a laugh meant to lighten the mood, "i almost forgot how intense you can be, geez lighten up armin. your stare is practically boring into me." you play with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to hide your discomfort.

discomfort. he doesn't want you to feel that around him. he'll have to change that, make you see his behavior is only intended to help you. protect you from the evils in the world because you're simply too native to notice them. "and i didn't even wanna go to that party in the first place. i suggested star gazing but historia called it dumb."

"of course she did, her idea of a good time is getting so drunk she could faint." he rolls his eyes. "anyways. speaking of change, did you talk to eren last night?"

you almost choke on the pancake, quickly putting the fork down so you can grab the glass of water and gulp it down. "n-no! why would i speak to eren? i barely know the guy."

you've always been a bad liar—always overexaggerating everything.

"just wondering. i haven't been able to get a hold of him. mikasa wants to speak to him."

"mikasa? why?" that certainly piques your curiosity.

"well, they are best friends and he left campus without telling her where he was going apparently. she's at her hometown with her parents and is worried sick."

"can’t you be the messenger or something?”

he clicks his tongue, walking over and sitting next to you. "i'm not sure this message can be passed down through me." he smiles, making sure your thighs are touching.

"why not?" you ask timidly, as if afraid for his answer.

"well, i'm sure you know about how...special their relationship is. right before we left for break, eren told me he was planning on confessing his feelings for her when we got back and then she just texted me saying—"

"what?" your lips form into a frown, doe eyes filled with confusion. it's so cute. so naive and cute. "eren likes her?"

"of course he likes her silly, everyone knows those two are head over heels for each other. practically in a relationship already. it'll be so cute when we get back to campus and see them finally get together, don't you think so? their bond is truly something remarkable."

you stay silent, eyes staring down at your pancakes. do you actually like him? armin refrains from a scoff, how could you be so dumb to fall for someone like eren? "what's wrong? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"f-fine."

he nods, hand going to touch the syrup in the corner of your lips. you look surprised for a second as his tongue darts out to lick his finger. "we'll be spending two whole months in this house together." he changes the subject, having accomplished what he wanted to do. he doubts the eren situation is over yet but he has all the time to permanently destroy it. and he will.

"don't we think we should rekindle the friendship? it's gonna be awkward if we continue ignoring each other."

"you're the one who ignored me." you murmur.

"i wanna fix that, i'm sorry y/n. i'm sure we can go back to where we left off, hmm?"  he lean down so your faces are closer together, your eyes widening at that the movement. "would you like that?"

it looks like you're nodding before you can even register what he's saying. you've always been like that. so compliant. it used to be adorable but now all he can think about is how eren used that submissiveness and naivety to sink his claws into you. no one can be trusted around you. only armin.

"y—yeah." you smile, sullen mood from the news he just delivered temporarily gone. "i've missed you a lot."

"i've missed you too."

"what's this?" you ask as you walk into the living room a few hours later, granola bar in hand. still wearing his hoodie.

"a fort?"

"i can see it's a fort, but why?" you walk over to the sofa, plopping down on it.

"we used to make these all the time in high school, and since we're going to be friends again. don't you think—"

"so a fort?" you hum. "you usually hated when we made these, always calling it childish."

"well..." he steps towards the coffee table, picking up the miniature planetarium he stashed in his closet a few years ago. "you said you wanted to go stargazing so—"

"so you brought the stars to me?" your tone isn't mocking but you do chuckle a bit. "i don't know if that's sweet or just—"

"i think it's sweet." he grins, walking towards you. "so what do you think?" he gestures towards the fort. he didn't spent the last fifteen minutes moving furniture and gathering almost all pillows, sheets and cushions in the house for this for you to reject his offer. he needs to see you with that look in your eyes, looking at the stars with admiration. he misses it. the last sight in his mind is of you at that party, eyes gleamed over with lust and that hammered look. it plays over and over again and he's sick of it.

"sure." you beam, not waiting for him to make the first move as you crawl into the fort. the sanctuary he made for just the two of you.

he goes in after you, thighs touching yours as you sit next to each other. he made the insides small on purpose, just so he could feel you. he turns the projector on and you both watch as the speckles of light start to form on the sheets.

"whoa." you mutter to yourself, entrapped by the glowing of the luminescent blues and purples. "you really did all this for me?" you ask, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"wouldn't be the first time i went all out for you." he moves closer to you, breathing fanning on your face. "i'd do anything for you y/n, i thought you knew that already."

you're his. he should do whatever it takes to care of what's his.

you stare at him, a definite picture of of purity with those big mesmerizing eyes. your mouth gapes open trying to come up with a response but nothing comes out. armin watches a bead of sweat trail down your forehead, it's almost scorching in here. he knows it would've happen in this summer heat so he slowly picks up the mini electric. "hot?"

"w-what about you?" you ask, visibly swallowing a lump in your throat.

he hesitates. c'mon armin. just be a man. so he wraps his hand around your waist and you recoil in surprise as he brings you into his lap so the fan is on both of your bodies. you place your hand on his thighs, squirming to get into a comfortable position. "a-armin..." you laugh, it's awkward. you're trying to ease the tension but he doesn't want that, he just wants to be near you,  consequences be damned.

he's usually smarter than this. smarter than acting before he thinks but that night won’t stop haunting him so he smiles as he leans his chin on your shoulder. "what? am i making you uncomfortable?"

"w—well no but...it's just very sudden. you were acting as if i didn't exist just a few days ago and you're now—"

"i just wanted to touch you y/n. it's been years without your touch." he whispers, resisting the urge to nibble on your earlobe. "didn't you miss me? miss my touches?" he asks innocently, wrapping both his hands around your waist to pull you closer. your back is flushed against his chest, ass directly on his crotch and it takes a lot of will power not to get a hard on.

"i did." you nod eagerly. "of course i did."

"so let me treat you for all those times i missed."

"okay." you say, seemingly without thinking.

"wanna get some barbecue tomorrow ?"

"i have to meet my parents. y'know, getting yelled at for my major. the usual."

he frowns. "they're still mad about that? you should talk to them."

"you know they never listen to me." you squirm again on his lap but abruptly stops as you realize where exactly you're sitting. "it's fine, i barely talk to them anyways. i'm sure they'll finally get over it once i graduate."

he should comfort you, say something along the lines of they'll come around or don't worry but instead what comes out is none of those. "you don't need them." he rustles against you. "i'll always support you y/n. like i always have"

even if you weren't aware, he was mostly always in the shadows and making sure you got everything you wanted. "well, they are my parents."

"they've never cared enough to listen to you, to see you." his tone changes, voice low now as more sweat beads down his forehead. "none of them have, have they?"

"i—i...i'm sure—"

"historia doesn't see you? does she? she says she's your best friend but she treats you like a lackey y/n. isn't that infuriating?"

you scoff, "that's not true." you go to get off his lap but he tightens his hold on you. he just needs to say this.

"is that why she rejected your offer of stargazing? why she always made fun of your outfit choices back in high school? she was always jealous of you, don't you see that? you're better than that, better than all of them." every single one.

he wishes he could see your face but he settles for this, just for this simple touch. "i don't know what you want me to say to that, armin." you breath out.

"i want you to see your worth, y/n. you deserve better than all of this. don't you think so? you deserve the world." he can't help himself as he leans into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

you're not creeped out, or at least you're not attempting to get up anymore. "and what, you can give me that? is that what you're saying?"

he wasn't meant to have this type of conversation right now, it was just supposed to be a nice evening of laying down in this fort. but he saw an opportunity and why not take it?

"you know i can." he answers. "you know i'd do anything for you."

you turn your head slightly, looking at him. "really?" you question. "anything?" you sound intrigued and he swears you're leaning in, it's not his imagination right? you really are.

but before your lips can even brush against each other, historia's screeching voice booms in the living room. "y/n! it's time to get ready."

you quickly get off, almost throwing yourself to the ground as you scoff awkwardly. as if being knocked out of a trance. you don't even spare armin a glance as you crawl out.

get ready for what?

"another party?" armin leans on the doorway frame, watching his sister apply her makeup. "you two went to one just last night—and halloween themed? it's the middle of summer."

"that's what makes it fun!" she smiles, putting the blush down and standing up. she decided to go as a cat. or at least, he thinks it's a cat. drawn on whiskers with an ear headset, a damn tail, short dress with long fishnets.

she looks like a whore. she's been acting like a whore ever since summer started and he realizes maybe that's why you’re acting so different. you live near each other in the dorms and historia must be rubbing off of you.

he tries and keeps his outrage down as historia gets up, walking towards the door. "we'll be back at twelve...hopefully."

"no, you'll be back at twelve." he grits his teeth. "you'll get drunk like an idiot dear sister, and leave y/n all alone at some strangers house. again."

she blushes, offended at the assumption. "you're the one who brought me home last night, why are you blaming it on—"

"would mother appreciate this? you dressed up like a skank and going to a party two nights in a row?"

he shouldn't be saying this. it's not in his character and it's obvious historia is completely staggered at his behavior. "she's barely home and i doubt she cares what i do at night. unlike you, i haven't made it my life to be the perfect—"

"but i care." he's walking towards her before he can stop himself. "i care about the way you're treating y/n. dragging her to parties, getting her drunk so assholes can take advantage then leaving her high and dry. you're a bad influence, dear sister and it's truly annoying seeing you trying to turn her into some gross replica of you. she's not like that, she's not tainted like you. she's pure and i won't let—"

"you're hurting me jackass!" she whimpers and it's only then armin realizes he's seized her wrist, digging his nails into the skin.

he quickly lets go, clearing his throat. "sorry, just stressed from school."

the annoyance is clear in her eyes along with the rage but armin notices something else...a hint of fear? he scared her? fucking great. watch as she goes and rants to mother about her asshole of an older brother resulting in talks he definitely doesn't want to have.

"if you're so worried about y/n, come to the party like you did last night. keep an eye on your precious doll." she scoffs, shoving him away so she can step out the door, rubbing at her wrist.

that's not a total bad idea. it's a perfect way to get closer to you without seeming like a total creep plus he can keep eren and his greedy claws away. he quickly walks towards your door, knocking once before you're opening. his mouth nearly gapes open at the sight of you, how is it always possible for him to be blown away by your beauty every time he sees you? you're dressed in a short white dress, wearing a halo headset with wings.

an angel? fitting. very very fitting.

"you like it?" you grab the ends of the dress, showing it off. he notices you try very hard to not look at him in the eyes. "couldn't decide between a bride or angel. historia wanted me to go as a sexy nurse but i didn't really have—"

"gorgeous. you look gorgeous." it flows out of his tongue so smoothly it has the both of you tensing up.

"really?" you quirk an eyebrow, clearing your throat and finally looking at him. it feels so damn awkward—at least to you but you try to act normal nonetheless. "i expected a swarm of insults, you hate things like that."

"do i think having a halloween themed party in the middle of summer is completely and utterly idiotic? yes. but it doesn't deter from your blinding beauty."

a shy smile gathers on your face, "uh...thanks."

"ready to go? i'm driving.”

your eyes widen, "you? going to a party twice in a row? going to a party at all? are you okay?" your hand is quickly going to touch his forehead before he can comprehend what's going on. his cheeks immediately blaze red, taking a quick step back.

you take your hand away, letting out an uneasy laugh. "it's just a tough armin, not like i was going to stab you or something."

"i know—"

"you say you want our friendship back but you act like this...it's weird." you huff. "you've been acting weird ever since we left for college, no—you've been acting like an ass and i've let it go but this summer means a lot to me. i'm finally having fun for once in my life and i don't need you to come in and confusing me and—and what the hell was that fort—"

"i was just surprised!" he cuts off, tone more urgent than he wants it to be. "i do want us to be friends again!" he deliberately ignores the fort question.

he just wasn't prepared for the feeling of your skin against his in that moment. it’s usually him initiating the touches, not the other way around. he swallows the lump in his throat, quickly taking your hand in his. "i didn't mean to insult you. of course i want your touch, who wouldn't want it? you're—" he stops talking. stop it. stop it. he's babbling. "let's just go."

you nod, smiling again. at least you're not creeped out by his behavior.

the party is boring. it's only been an hour and he's bored out of his damn mind. other than drunk girls coming up to him and asking him what's he's supposed to be even though it's pretty freaking obvious he's not wearing a costume—the random loud shouting as someone starts taking shots is enough to drive him out of his mind.

but at least you're here.

he's made sure to keep an eye on you the second you guys got here. you've mostly been outside on the patio, drinking punch as you dance with some friends. he occasionally touches his lips, thinking of how close they were to yours in that fort. the way you looked at him was filled with...well you definitely didn't look at eren like that last night. speaking of the devil— "eren." he smiles tightly as his friend sits next to him on the sofa. "vampire?" he asks, eyeing his costume.

"is that alcohol?" he looks at the cup in armin's hand. "i need to get drunk immediately."

"it's water."

"water. of course it's water." he chuckles. "what else do i expect from mr goody two shoes?"

armin rolls his eyes, "why are you so desperate to find a way to act like even more of an idiot?" he mutters as if there aren't piles of cups around them, not to mention the cases of beer he's sure are in the fridge.

"nothing." he groans, leaning against the couch. "it's a party. getting drunk is what you're supposed to do."

"hmmm." he hums. "just thought it had to do with something else."

"like what?"

"well...i saw you and y/n the other night, getting it on."

"please never say getting it on ever again." he grins, sitting back up.

he's grinning...as if he didn't just commit a great sin against armin. didn't put his hands on armin's girl, didn't...he grits his teeth. how can he act so careless? as if he had any right to do what he did last night?

"do you like her?"

eren arches an eyebrow, looking at him. "what's it to you?"

"you don't do relationships. you hump and dump and y/n and i are very close. i don't want her becoming one of your victims."

"that's none of your business." he scoffs.

"just answer the question." his eyes bore into the others, clenching the cup in his hand to the point the liquid is overflowing onto his lap but he could care less. "cause if so, that's really pathetic. she always expresses how much of a idiot you are, it's funny really. how she had to be drunk to finally sleep with you."

"she wasn't drunk." he says through gritted teeth. "we were both a little tipsy but not drunk enough to—"

"why are you even doing this with her? she doesn't like you."

"again. it's none of your business." eren deadpans. "what's wrong with you tonight? we're both—"

"you're right." armin sighs, letting out an exaggerated laugh like he's just realized how crazy he sounds. even though he knows he’s acting perfectly sane right now, who wouldn’t be mad if they discovered what armin did? "i'm being weird, i'm just really protective of y/n. she's like family to me, you know that."

eren bites his lip, still a bit tense but nods nonetheless. "i'm not doing anything...like that with her. i genuinely wanna see where things go."

oh.

he's not sure which answer would've been better but he shakes his head okay, licking his now dry lips. "wanna get drunk on the roof? just like we used to?"

"you mean i got drunk and you sat there, silently judging me." eren corrects, anxious atmosphere from before now gone. armin likes that about him. quick to forget and never holds grudges. "but sure, i'll get the beer."

"i have to go pee, see you on the roof." he salutes before eren walks into the kitchen. his eyes instantly travel towards you, feet dragging themselves towards the patio before he can stop.

he just wants to ask if you're okay before he departs, see if you don't need any assistance. you're surrounded by people...but it's people he doesn't trust. he doesn't trust anyone with you. for good reasons. before he can walk further to tap your shoulder, he hears the conversation you're having with abby—he thinks that's her name.

she's been over for sleepovers many times. never really liked armin, that's for sure. he's heard her call him fake at least two times, saying someone can't actually be that nice or perfect. fucking abby. why is she talking to you? he should've gotten rid of her long ago, sabotaged the friendship as soon as he realized her bad influence.

"just ask him out!" he hears her squeal. "literally, what are you waiting for? he's so hot."

something tells him she's not fangirling like this  over armin.

"it's just...it's gonna be awkward!" you sigh, leaning against the wall. see? you can make good choices all by yourself, it's the people around your corrupting you. warping your thoughts until they're no longer your own. "he's armin's best friend and—"

"ugh! who cares about that boring walking encyclopedia!" abby groans heavily. "eren is probably the most popular guy on campus, have you seen those abs? ask him out or i will!" she laughs and armin knows she's not joking.

"he's not...boring." you mutter. "he's actually a pretty cool guy and—"

"you're probably the only one who thinks that." she rolls her eyes.

she interrupted you again. why is she always interrupting you? and why do you never speak up on it?

"ask eren out! c'mon, who cares about what armin thinks? his head is too busy being buried in books to notice anyone else regardless." she shakes your hand frantically.

you squirm, slowly nodding. "maybe. i might. eren doesn't seem to be totally av—"

"gotta go pee." she lets go of your hand. "drank way too much beer."

"want me to go with you?"

you're so nice. why are you so nice?"

"no, it's fine. it'll only take two seconds." she smiles, walking back inside. armin already made himself scarce the second she turned around, watching her walk up the stairs.

he should just go to the roof, talk to eren...but it seems eren isn't the only one standing in the way of his relationship with you. everyone wants to jeopardize it and he's had enough. so he's walking upstairs, not second guessing himself as he makes his way to the bathroom. he's been to this mansion many times before, his mother always having dinner with the owner of it to get into their good graces.

it doesn't take long before he finds it, the hallway is empty and he can hear abby inside. giggling nonsense to herself as she pees. she's drunk. probably wouldn't even remember his face.

he's not sure what he exactly plans to do but the second the door opens, he's immediately shoving her back inside. hands going to rest against her throat and mouth. fuck, he should've thought this through but all he can see right now is blind fury. people keep trying to tear you two apart and it's fucking with his brain. makes him so furious he just wants to punch everything in sight.

abby is screeching, trying to get out of his grip but she's a petite girl. barely weighing a hundred pounds. her back is to his chest and he prays she won't recognize him by the sound of his voice but even if she did...who cares? no one would believe her anyways. so he chuckles, not bothering to mask his voice.

"why do you keep getting in my way abby?" he sighs, applying a bit more pressure to her throat to which she whimpers at. "i don't want to hurt you so let this be a warning, hmm? stay away from y/n. never talk to her again, don't even think about her. that friendship is dead as of tonight? don't you think so?"

she only whimpers louder, trying to free herself so he applies even more pressure. she's now choking, little gasps trying to come out. "you're all trying to ruin her, it's so fucking annoying. just away, okay? it's simple enough, right? i'm going to let go now, don't turn around, don't scream unless you want me to break your windpipe? do you want that, abby?"

he's not sure he even knows how to break a damn windpipe, at least not yet but she doesn't know that. she nods frantically, tears flowing down her cheeks and onto armin's fingers. "great, now run away. all the way home." he lets her go and she doesn't need to be told twice as she bolts out of the room.

well, that was easy. he refrains from laughing as he leans on the doorway. she was all bark and no fight. always insulting armin but suddenly turning into a pathetic, sniveling bitch once he actually does something in retaliation.

he's feeling confident tonight, smiling ear to ear as he walks towards an open bedroom. the balcony door is wide open and he steps out onto it. climbing onto the roof doesn't take much effort, he's been doing it with eren for years.

speaking of eren.

another problem he needs to fix.

getting eren drunk isn't a hard thing to do. it only took a few minutes on the roof before he was slurring his speech. fortunately armin got them both back down on the balcony before the other could gravely injure himself.

injuring his best friend badly isn't on his to do list. at least physically. eren grips his forearm as armin lays him down on a random chair, the summer air causing eren's hair to flow around.

he understands why y/n is so smitten, he guesses. he's a pretty good looking guy. but so is armin. isn't he? he got rid of that haircut he would always get teased for, went to the gym a few nights and developed actual abs, don’t girls love abs...so why him? is it because he's popular? maybe cause he didn't wait eons to make a move like armin is currently doing.

whatever.

soon enough, he's going to be out of the equation.

eren's too inebriated to even realize where he is. this won't be hard, not one bit. "eren." armin sings. "i dare you to punch that railing." he leans against said railing, watching eren's sluggish movements as he stands up.

he's a jock, they love stupid dares. especially when they're drunk. eren scoffs in disbelief, offended armin even had to dare him. like he would've done it regardless. "easy."

"you sure you won't hurt yourself?" at least too badly.

he rolls his eyes and before armin can blink, his knuckles are slamming into the railing. he actually did it. why are jocks so easy? "that was so weak." armin challenges. "lame."

eren punches it again without saying anything, then again and again and armin has to hold him back and push him back on the chair before he's breaking his own bones. he examines his knuckles, bruised and bloodied. just like he wanted them. "h..how was that? cool right?" he slurs, smiling happily to himself.

admin nods, "very cool. now go to sleep." he hums lightly, patting the others head again until he's snuggling into the chair.

armin waits a few minutes until he's sure eren's finally sleeping. he walks towards the wall, letting out a few puffs to brace himself. he's doing all this for you. it'll be fine. he can do it.

he doesn't allow himself to think twice before he's slamming his forehead into the wall. fuck. fuck that hurts. but he can do it. it's for y/n. it's for their relationship. he can do it. so he does it again, and again until blood is dripping down his face.

fucking hell, it hurts.

he winces as he takes out his phone, wiping the blood on the wall with the sleeve of his sweater. he dials your number and you answer on the first ring. so perfect. so damn perfect.

"hey! where'd you disappear to?" your chirpy voice says on the other line.

"y/n." he makes sure to add emphasis on his voice, "c-can you come upstairs to the balcony? second bedroom on your right."

"uh...sure. are you okay?"

he decides to hang up at that, you're coming so there's no reason to continue talking. dots start to form in his eyes, he should've expected that. slamming your head repeatedly onto a wall will do that to someone.

you arrive not twenty seconds later, hurrying up into the room and gasping once you see the sight of him. "oh my gosh!" you rush over, placing a hand on his shoulder as your examine his face. "what ha—" it's then that you notice a sleeping eren in the seat next to you two.

and normally you wouldn't even jump to such a conclusion but with the way eren's knuckle is bruised...armin left little to be assumed. "don't tell me..." you trail off, eyes widening with disbelief as you look between the two of them.

"it's fine." armin breaths out, squinting his eyes shut at the pain. "he—he must've gotten too drunk and—it's fine."

"it's not fine!" you exclaim. "he...oh gosh why would he do that?"

he stands up from the seat he's been leaning against. "he was drunk, he wasn't thinking straight. it's my fault for mentioning mikasa knowing how—"

"mikasa?" your voice is so meek it has him finally looking at you. you look hurt, like a wounded little deer and although it pains him—he's only doing this to help you. you'll see it soon enough.

"yeah, all i did was mention how if he doesn't hurry and man up, she'll be swept away by some other guy on campus. you know how mikasa is, everyone loves her and i guess he got too mad. my fault for messing with true love." he chuckles, trying to lighten to the atmosphere. "sorry, that last part was cheesy but truly i'm—are you okay?"

your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth anxiously, slight tears forming in your eyes. "f-fine."

"are my injuries really making you cry? wow, didn't know you cared so much."

he tries not to think about the fact you're actually crying over eren. fucking eren.

you let out a forced laugh, "y-yeah." you sniff. "let's get you home. him too."

"is he usually so...violent?" you ask once you two are in the car, driving eren home. "and don't you need stitches for that or something?"

"not usually so violent. i only see him get so worked up when it's something he's truly passionate about."

"...right."

"and for the stitches part? i don't think so." at least he hopes not.

you nod.

"he's my best friend, i'm not sure he didn't mean to do it."

"he still hurt you though, that's messed up." you look at him, frown visible on your face. "your face is too adorable to get a fist punched into it."

"adorable?" he gasps, making a turn. "i'm hot. i'd like to think i stopped being adorable right when i entered college."

you laugh, "yeah. i guess."

"you guess what?" he asks, teasing smile on his face.

you smile, "you're...hot. there? did i boost your ego enough?"

"you have no idea, angel."

you're taken back by the pet-name but then realize it probably has to do with your outfit as you lean back onto the chair, staring at the passing houses.

eren's cozy in his bed a couple minutes later, snuggling into the pillows. "wonder what he's gonna feel when he wakes up knowing he beat the crap out of his best friend." you murmur, watching him on the bed.

"he did not beat the crap out of me!" armin scoffs, defensively. you giggle, "those bruises look pretty serious to me."

"doesn't mean he beat the crap out of me! it's just harmless bruises."

"sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

he walks closer to you, "he really didn't. unless you haven't noticed, i've grown from that scrawny boy a years back. i can handle a fight."

"yeah, i've noticed but eren goes to the gym like a million times a day—"

"but did eren take a year of marital arts?" he counters.

"the dude is built like a bodybuilder, i doubt he needs marital arts."

"that's where you're wrong, dear y/n. brains win over brawn anytime."

"except for tonight." you say, mischievous glint in your eyes.

he blows air out through his lips in disbelief and it's only when he sees you squint at the movement that he realizes how close they are together. so close that all he needs to do is lean in a few inches and your lips are touching. should he? you're watching him intensely, like you also want to know what his next move is.

do you want him to? he doesn't know. he planned much more experiences to get you to realize he's the one for you. he doesn't want your first kiss with him to be in eren's bedroom, of all places. but maybe a petty part of him does want that. a way of getting back at eren for what he did. for almost taking you away from armin.

your eyes flicker up, staring at him before flicking back down to his lips. it seems you want to make the first move as your lips brush against his and armin has to will himself to not fall down because his knees feel like they're going to give out any second. holy...is this really happening? he's been waiting for this his entire life. for you to finally...fuck, your fingers idly play with the buttons of his shirt before you're deepening the kiss.

he doesn't know why but he pulls away, "why should i kiss you y/n?" he asks, voice teasing yet stern at the same time.

your body heats up from embarrassment, "i—don't you like me? the fort—"

"do i like you?" he could almost scoff at the stupid question. "do you like me?"

you look up at him, stumbling for words to say to that. you look like he's just asked you to commit murder, biting harshly on your bottom lip before breathing out. "y-yes." your voice is so timid. "i've always liked you."

oh?

oh.

"and yet you were under eren like a whore the entire night." he's not sure why he allowed that to come out but he did. you inhale sharply, quickly shaking your head. "n—no. i—"

"what? it's not like you two tried to hide it. with the way you were giggling, the way you were moaning his name."

"you saw that?"

"of course i did. how can i kiss you when you've been with eren? moaning his name, crying for him to go deeper. do you you think you deserve my kiss, y/n?" he keeps his face impassive but he's filled with glee on the inside. at the humiliation on your face, the guilt.

"i-i'm sorry!" you stammer. "i s-slept with him and i...i admit i do like him but it's clear he doesn't feel the same way an—"

"so what? i'm just a second resort?"

"no!" you quickly deny. "i've liked you for so long, armin but you've made it clear you didn't want this friendship to continue. and after this morning...and tonight i don't want to let more years pass by before i confess my feelings a—i'm sorry for what i did with eren—i really...i'm sorry." your eyelashes have tears on them, fingers digging into his shirt as you try not to full on break down.

it's so adorable. you've always been a crybaby. "i probably don't deserve it but...please...please kiss me." your bottom lip trembles.

"well go on, kiss me." he wanted to tease more, have you grovel and beg but how can he? when you're looking so desperate for just one kiss.

have you really? always liked him? has he been so blind to not notice? fucking idiot. so you have always been on the right track, you've always known what you wanted. it's others who stopped you from achieving what you truly wanted. others and armin's stupid decisions.

he allows you to lean in, your nails almost digging into his cheeks as you kiss him. he instantly wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. you tilt your head to the side to get a better angle, and just as your tongues meet, armin pulls out again which elicits a whimper from you. "what..."

he grabs your jaw harshly, fingertips digging into the sides as he forces you to open your mouth. you look so pretty like this for him. dressed in white with a damn halo over your head as you look at him with that expression on your face. eyes just begging for you to be fucked. he doesn't think as he spits in your mouth and you whimper but don't protest.

he lets go and you swallow without a second thought, eyes focused on him. he can see why eren was so rough that night, you're just asking for it. "you let him fuck you, y/n. let him touch you."

should he even be acting so possessive right now? he should save that for later, when he's wired the fact you belong to him and only him into your brain. but that look in your eyes...it seems you already know. and his cock twitches at the possibility. do you? do you already know who you belong to y/n?

he drags you back until your back bumps against the dresser, his hand grabs your cunt which is practically aching for him already. "you let him touch this. this which belongs to me." he says into your ear and you whimper, clenching his shirt.

"s—sorry, p—lease please i'm so—nngh!" armin pinches your clit, mercilessly digging his fingers into the sensitive bud.

"who does this belong to?"

slick is already forming, coating his fingers. tears gather in your eyes, "y-you."

it's like fireworks went off inside of him, like he's finally seeing the light after years and years of pining. you do know. you know that every inch of you belongs to him, that you weren't made for anyone else. you were made for him. only him.

you shiver as his lips plant soft kisses on your chest, his hand gripping your hip. those hips he's always had too many fantasies about to count. he bites down, wanting everyone to see his marks on you. to see who you belong to. his teeth nip on your chest, jaw, chin, neck—anywhere he can leave marks.

he just wants to make you feel good, so good you forget about all your other past partners. he roughly turns you around so you can see yourself in the mirror behind you, your hands lean on the dresser, a dazed look already in your eyes. "you don't care that he's here?" armin whispers.

you shake your head, "i don't. please armin, fuck me."

you let out a wonderful moan as he pulls your dress up, ripping your panties and throwing them on the ground. he dives a finger inside of your needy cunt, "fuck!" you whimper.

"does it hurt?" he mocks. he doubts it does. not with the way you're trembling with pleasure under his touch. "i'm sorry angel but you don't deserve lube. not after everything you put me through me."

you nod helplessly, not even disagreeing with his words. "i'm so sorry." tears fall down your cheeks, eyes looking back into his through the mirror.

you're so weak for his touch and it's so gratifying. it's all he's ever wanted.  "you're so pretty, so tight just for me." he inserts another finger, curling them until your legs start shaking under your own weight. he holds you up, teeth grazing your neck and peppering kisses on your back.

it's so hot. everything feels so hot as the moans travel out of your lips, the sound of his fingers inside of you followed by your high pitched whining. it's almost too much. eren is right there and although he's not waking up anytime soon, it's just...fuck. it takes another finger before you're spilling onto his hand, guttural moan escaping your lips as you almost fall down.

he smiles in ecstasy, bringing his fingers to his lips and shamelessly licking every single white spot he finds on them. why would he be ashamed? he's been waiting for this his entire life. this is all he could ever ask for. "it tastes just like candy." he grins near your ear.

you shiver, "please...please fuck me."

he doesn't allow himself any more stalling, he's gonna have the rest of your lives together to taste and tease you. right now, all he wants to do is sink into that tight heat. so he does. and you both moan at the feeling. it's so hot, taking it in like armin's cock was always meant to be there. and it was, wasn't it?

"fuck..." he grips your hips, starting to thrust up. the arousal eating him up.

"so—big." you choke out as he starts to fill you up all the way. "feels so good..." you grip his cock so perfectly. everything you do is so perfect.

he starts to thrust harder once you've adjusted, not sparing any time as he pounds into you. the items on the dresser start to shake, moving around but none of you care enough. skin slaps against skin, his fingers clench your hips while yours dig into the dresser. he grins at the way your mouth falls open, tongue lolling around as you're helpless to way he's drilling into you.

you love this. it's so evident on your face. you love the fact it's armin behind you, the fact it's him inside of you right now. you didn't even ask for a condom...fuck how perfect would that be? you filled up with his babies. he could almost cum just at the thought.

but he doesn't. instead he increases his pace, fucking you eagerly. "wanted this for so long. fuck, you're so tight. feels so good. you're so perfect. so so perfect."

you let out a wet sob, whether at his actions or words—he doesn't know but he relishes the sound. "you like that y/n? being pounded into like you're nothing? while the guy you claim to like sleeps not even five feet away? it's pathetic." he chuckles.

and he's not usually so mean. he won't be during your other sexual activities. no he'll treat you like a princess, like the perfect angel you are. but right now, he's angry. and you need to know your place.

"suh—sorry." you cry out. "won't do it again. so sorry." you shake your head, grinding your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you throw your head back, mouth parted and begging for a kiss to which armin gives. your tongues meet, swirling around together as he licks into your perfect mouth. you two moan into each others mouths as armin continues his pace and—fuck he has to almost slap himself for being an idiot and not doing this sooner as he brings his hand around to cup your right breast, clenching it tightly and you moan deliciously at the contact.

he grips it as your tongue goes to lick his teeth, licking anything really. you're so needy. just as needy as him. your moans get even louder and he's thankful eren's parents are out on some business trip cause he's pretty sure the entire neighborhood can hear you right now. "so—ah! so good armin. you make me feel so good." you say, voice airy. "please fill me up, please i want your cum."

he's pretty sure those exact words are the reason for the orgasm that happens not two seconds later. he grips your waist tightly, cock deep inside as he empties everything in you. you practically scream, legs shaking as armin continues to grind into you. making you feel every single inch of him. because it all belongs to you.

"so perfect." he pants, resting his sweaty forehead on your back. "so perfect."

would now be a good time to say he loves you?

you’re avoiding him.

at first he just thought you were just a bit shy considering the circumstances, you two were close friends then went through a period of barely speaking to each other for months only for him to end up fucking you in someone else’s bedroom.

so he gave you time to process all of that but it’s been two weeks...how much more time do you need? the first week he tried to stay calm but now it’s getting too much, the last time he gave you space you two didn’t speak for so long. that was his fault and he won’t make it again, he can’t go through that again. not after finally having a taste of you.

he sighs deeply, digging his fingers under the pillow and taking out the pink lace bra he took out of your drawer the other day. he just misses you too much. it feels like he can’t breath whenever you awkwardly walk out of a room once you see him, how you deliberately ignore his unwavering gaze, how you haven’t said even a single word to him.

it fills him up with anxiety and he needs to find a way to release somehow so he shamelessly acquired this piece of material. it’s not like he’s committed some crime, he just needed to find a way to be near you. to feel you again.

he wishes he could see it on you, maybe he’ll ask you to keep it on next time you two make love again. his hand was under his sweatpants the second he felt himself harden, quickly tugging on his length until he was panting into the pillow. “y/n...” he moans.

he needs you. needs to taste you, touch your soft skin and feel it under his fingertips. needs to hear your moans, see your scrunched up eyebrows and dazed out eyes as he pounds into you...fuck you’d be clawing at his shoulders just like that night. you’d be so tight as sweat drips down both of your bodies.

he grips his cock tighter, toes curled and eyes shut tight as the bra is held to his chest. if only he could live between your legs forever, feeling your tight heat and hearing your pretty little sounds. he’d never want to leave.

you’ve been gone all day, barely been around the last two weeks and he had no idea how much his schedule depended on you being near. even when he was ignoring you, most of the things he did throughout the day consisted of taking care of you. making sure you got to your classes, took your morning jokes safely, how he used to watch you study in the library and so much more. but he didn’t even know where you were now, he had your entire routine memorized back on campus. it definitely isn’t the same now that school was temporarily over.

loneliness was creeping in. he doesn’t know what to do without you. it’s not like he could study to pass the time anymore. fuck. all he needed was one more tug before he was releasing all over his hand.

that was unsatisfactory. it’s not like the real thing. masturbating does nothing anymore once he’s actually been inside of you. he groans, frustration threatening to take him apart as he gets up and walks towards the bathroom. it only takes a few minutes before he’s cleaned up and changed his clothes, ready to go to sleep.

but then he hears something.

rustling outside, right under his window. then he hears your soft voice, uttering something he can’t quite hear. he walks closer to it, thankful he left it slightly open.

what he sees...is definitely not what he expected.

his fingers unconsciously clench the window handle, almost breaking his nails in the process as he watches eren—eren walking down the lawn and into the street.

he was...he was in your room? he didn’t hear the front door open and there’s no other way for eren to have walked in unless he climbed that tree next to the two rooms. why was he in your room?

armin tastes blood in his mouth, biting down on his tongue so harshly that his teeth pierced into it. while he was in here, agonizing over your absence—you were in there with him. doing who knows what.

well, it’s pretty obvious what you were up to as he watches the pep in eren’s steps.

fucking hell.

he thought he fixed that.

are the healing bruises in his face just...fuck why are you with him? he shakes his head, trying to calm down but it’s pointless at this rate. he should’ve done more, he would’ve done more but then you suddenly came onto him that night and he thought he had won. apparently not.

playing nice is pointless. it seems you like men like eren regardless of the crappy actions they do. what’s wrong with you?

he’s walking to your bedroom in the next second, fists clenching and unclenching. what’s wrong with you? he goes to knock but then scoffs bitterly before sharply opening the door, hearing the sound of it smacking against the wall.

you’re on your bed, gasping and eyes widening at the abrupt action and sound. “armin—what—”

you’re just wearing an oversized shirt...that is definitely not his. looks like eren’s old football jersey. fucking hell. what is wrong with you, y/n?

“are you serious?” he breathes out, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. “are you fucking serious?” he takes a step forward and you anxiously scoot back on the bed.

“what are you doing?” you ask like he’s in the wrong. like he’s the one acting like a little confusing, manipulative whore.

“why are you doing this to me, y/n?” he grits out. “why?”

“doing what?” you raise your voice a bit, pursing your lips. the look in your eyes tells him you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“what’s so special about him? please tell me cause i don’t understand. why’d you go back to him even after everything he did? he doesn’t even love you—not like i do, how many times do i have to say no one loves you like i do?” he’s in front of you in a second, hands clenching your shoulders and slightly shaking you.

“y-you’re acting weird, armin.” your bottom lip starts to quiver. “you’re scaring me.”

“i’m scaring you?” he laughs. “not the man who almost beat me to a pulp? but it’s me who scares you?”

“l-like you said—he was drunk so...so he didn’t mean to! he said he apologized—”

“that’s not the point!” he yells, startling you. your eyes are widen to the point they look like they’re going to fall out but he doesn’t care. what’s wrong with you? “he’s brash, rude, inconsiderate. he could care less about you and trust me the second summer is over, he’s ditching your ass for someone else and yet you still pin after him? is that what you like y/n? do you enjoy getting walked over like a damn doormat by everyone? your parents, historia, abby and now eren? what the fuck is wrong with you?”

tears are gathering in your eyes, you bring your hands up to his and push them off of your shoulders. “you’re being mean.”

“i thought you liked that? unless it’s coming from me right? you allow everyone else to treat you like crap then come crawling to me with tears in your damn eyes when you need a safety net.” he seethes. “everyone else can be jackasses, except for me. i always need to be your perfect little armin.”

“what is your problem?” you stand up, facing him. trying to appear strong when you both know it’s all an act. you can barely stand up for yourself without crying. “you’re the one who ignored me for—”

“not this crap again. you’re the one who came onto me that night, saying you’re mine, begging me to fuck you and then you suddenly ignore me and go right back to eren even after everything.” he throws his hands up in the air.

“i like eren.” you exhale shakily, seems like those three words were the only ones you were capable of forming at the moment.

“you said you liked me too, remember? how you always liked me—”

“i was drunk that night, armin.” it’s said so nonchalantly, like it’s the actual truth but he knows better. he was watching you most of the night and you didn’t even go near a cup of alcohol.

fuck, he wants nothing more than to grip and throw you on that bed. fuck into you like the slut you apparently are and hear your soft noises. but it seems—it seems you don’t want that from him. you want that from eren. you want eren to be the big bad wolf and for armin to be your safe sanctuary whenever things get too rough.

he doesn’t want that. he wants to be your everything.

why can’t you allow that?

“so, what? you don’t want me?”

if being rough won’t work then he can try an alternative. it doesn’t matter if it makes him look pathetic, he needs you.

and the pain he’s in right now is excruciating, blurring his vision with tears. “can’t you at least try then y/n?” he walks over, hands suddenly grasping your wrists. the hold was rigid, crushing and even he was surprised at the sheer force of it. like he was trying to break something. “you can try to want me, to love me? can’t you? is it that hard? after everything i’ve done for you, you want to just leave me behind in the dust? everything i’ve done means nothing to you?”

you whimper, shaking your head no. “t—that’s not it. i just—” tears start to trail down your face, tiny sobs filling the room. “it’s not you, it’s me.”

“really? that crap line—”

“it’s the truth!” you exclaim, facing him again. “i...i don’t deserve you, armin. being with people like eren is better because even when i screw up, it won’t matter. b-but if we do get together than i’ll just mess everything up and hurt you and then i’ll lose you and i don’t wanna—i don’t want to lose you. i can’t.” you babble.

he stares at you, shock written all over his face. and disbelief, pure disbelief. that’s what you’re scared of? “the only thing that’s hurting me is you being with eren. it’s fucking kill me, y/n.” he chokes out. “and how many times do i have to tell you that i’ll never leave.”

“you left before.” you say, voice barley above a whisper. “you just left me alone to face everything and then you get mad cause of my choices—”

“i’m sorry, i regret doing that. so, so much.” he cups your cheeks, finally letting go of your wrist and it’s only then does he see the slight bruises his grip left on your wrist. fuck, why do you look so pretty with his marks?

“but that was the last time. i’m never leaving you again. i love you y/n. you’re all i need and i’m all you need, okay?” he leans his forehead against yours, taking in your everything. “okay?”

“but you can’t see the future, what if—”

“no.” he snaps, voice filled with finality. the only way he’s ever going to be apart from you is if the claws of death try to sink their way into him and even then, he’d find a way back to you. he can’t be without you. not anymore. it’s not even an option. “i won’t. i promise. okay?”

you stay silent for a minute, tears still streaming down as you sniff. “okay.” you rest your face in the crook of his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, please forgive me.” you sob.

that’s exactly what you said that night and you still went and betrayed him. and yes you cleared things up. he knows it was all because of insecure, self sabotaging thoughts that pierced their way into you but what if they come back? what if you do that again? he can’t see you with eren anymore, he won’t be able to control his actions if he does. he backs away, taking your jaw into his hand and staring at you.

“you won’t do that again, will you?” he’s not asking. the tone in his voice makes it clear committing something as atrocious as that isn’t even a possibility anymore.

you nod meekly, doe eyes staring into yours with a hint of fear but this time he doesn’t care. if a bit of fear will keep you from shattering his heart again, then he hopes it sticks forever.

“i won’t.” you smile timidly.

good.

he’s inside of you not ten minutes later, chest covering your back as he fondles your breast. leaving marks anywhere he can. you’re his. and he’ll make sure everyone knows it. teeth sinking into fragile flesh with no mercy and with the way you cry out, you don’t seem to mind.

you’re yelping with every thrust, fingers clenching the sheets and his end goal is take several rounds throughout the night, pound into you until you’re non verbal. barely able to even let out tiny whimpers. he wants you so fucked out that no other cock will fill you up the way he does. and most certainly not eren’s.

he can tell he’s close, quickly flipping you around so you’re straddling him now, hands wrapping around your neck as you cry out. he smirks at the sight in front of him, purple marks covering your body, tear filled eyes and uncontrollable noises of pleasure.

so perfect.

it’s all he’s ever wanted.

he grips your waist, pistons in and out to the point you’re screaming. does historia hear that? hears you scream for him, evidence you’re his now. not theirs anymore. they can’t control you anymore, can’t taint what he loves any longer. armin’s the only one for you.

“oh—oh fuck.” you sniff through the tears, bouncing on top of him. that lace bra snug on your chest. you wore it just for him, just cause he asked.

“do you love me?” he pants, grip tightening.

you nod dumbly, without a second thought. “i do...i love you. i love you so much, armin.”

“good.” he smiles. fucking fantastic.

“you belong to me, right? you don’t need them anymore? right?” he practically begs.

you whimper, staying silent a second too long so he angles this next thrust into your sweet spot

causing you to yelp. “y-yes! i’m yours, i don’t need them.” you confirm.

“you don’t need anyone but me.”

“i don’t need anyone but you.” you whine, leaning your head onto his. “and you don’t need anyone but me, r-right?”

what kind of question is that? of course he doesn’t need anyone else. he’s never needed anyone else. if he could burn the entire world down with you two as the only survivors, he would. he wants you to himself, wants you to only have him. forever and always.

“of course.”

[captnjacksparrow]

I wish people would stop caring about the canon pairings and marriages in Naruto/Boruto because they should have absolutely no relevance for SNS shippers in terms of validating said ship. Those who say we are delusional because “Well, Naruto married Hinata so she is THE one he loves!” (I'll focus more on Naruto's marriage here... Is Sasuke's even a marriage?) simply don’t get that it just doesn't really matter who Naruto and Sasuke married because that in no way diminishes their feelings for each other. The main plot of the series revolves around the bond between Naruto and Sasuke. It is their story. They are each other's most important people and this was established back in Land of Waves arc even before the dramatic events that take place on the bridge - the whole point of that very first arc was making this a fact right from the beginning, because the story has always been and was always supposed to be about the two of them and the profound love and understanding that grows between them ever since they exchanged glances, smiles and pouts as lonely little broken kids. No reason to list all proof of their feelings and bond here, it has been done extensively, and if somebody watched the show/read the manga and missed it, they are missing half a brain. That these boys love each other more than anyone else is absolutely obvious.

So what about the canon pairings? Kishimoto stated time and time again that his focus was never romance, and that is not because he can't write romance as we know it (he clearly did), but it’s a matter of concept: what HE considers romance is the attraction that unites people with the purpose of marriage (confessing your romantic love for japanese people is the same as saying you want to be in a relationship, because feelings shouldn’t be voiced without an intention), and that, to him, is NOT the greatest expression of love, nor does it represent the most special bond two people can share.

It is understandable that westerners put so much weight into marriage because we consider it the epitome of love. Well, the truth is marriage in Japanese culture is mainly the only socially admissible means to have children and has very little to do with romantic love. In fact, in Japanese literature, it is much more common for unmarried couples to love each other than married ones. Obviously, there is no absolute truth when it comes to feelings and human relationships, what I'm doing here is generalising social norms and expectations (not exposing my opinion on them - that would turn this rant into something else entirely). A large number of Japanese marriages are loveless (and arranged, but no point getting into that either) and what motivates choosing a spouse is their ability to fulfill familial duties, meaning: is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? Is the man willing and capable of putting his occupation above everything else, working extremely hard and for long hours, with total dedication and diligence for his job, to the point of not even seeing his family most of the time, as an honorable man should do as a provider? That's what makes a GOOD married couple: two people following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family (again, please, this is not MY opinion!). What a Japanese man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children.

Do these descriptions ring any bells?

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true. Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it, and trying to discredit the obvious unmatched connection and feelings between two characters because they never got married to each other or married someone else is ludicrous. Yeah, a married couple can love each other deeply and above anyone else, but that is just not what marriage is ABOUT in Japanese culture and definitely not what Kishimoto wanted us to believe was the case here after dedicating 699 chapters to a story about the special bond between two boys that didn’t culminate in marriage. 

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Are more bells being rung?! 

Oh, some bonus info: We also tend to associate sex with romantic love. Well, Japanese married couples with children rarely have sex, if at all. After a woman becomes a mother, she is no longer considered sexually desirable and becomes a mother figure to her husband as well (what happened to Hinata’s big "attributes" in Boruto? Huh). This is especially true when couples sleep in separate rooms and the mother shares a bed with her children. (Hinata co-sleeps with Himawari and we know Naruto sleeps in a separate room. Just saying.)

What's your say?

Is Sasuke's even a marriage?

Geezz!!!! LoLLLLL!!!! This sentence just made me cackle so hard for a good 5 minutes, Anon!!!!!

Hmmm.... So let's get back to your ask.

Well, I don't know how to react to this ask, Anon. Because, I don't know whether you are from Japan or you have a very close Japanese friend who might've told you all these cultural thing about marriage and relationships.

So, what I am going to do is to analyze from the facts you have provided , combine with my own cultural relevance and provide my answer. If there is any Japanese readers who are reading this, you can confirm or dispel this by sending me an ask. But again, I don't want exceptional case like, 'No, my family is different'. I want to know about the general lifestyle of a common citizen and their married life.

Having said that, this ask made me just yell at myself, 'Goshh!!!! Seriously???'

Because whatever you said, It fucking exist in my country too and is still followed by almost 70% of people in my country and I absolutely detest it. That is,

Most of the marriages here are loveless nd arranged - Check

Is the woman good mother and consequently wife material? Is she going to devote her life to taking care of her children, house and husband, the noblest of acts for a female? - Check

People following their expected and strict gender-roles in a nuclear child-centered family - Check Check

What a man should want in a woman is for her to be a dedicated housewife and mother, since having children outside of marriage is not only frowned upon, it is not acceptable at all, and not being married with children is not respectable enough (same with being divorced). - Check Check

Marriage is, therefore, NOT a symbol of undying love and a deep and special connection between two people, rather, it’s a partnership established with the goal of having and raising children. - Awww!!! A million Check.

That's why I was envious of Western people in this aspect, because they have a freedom to choose their own partner without any time constraints and when they do, their marriage can be said to be 'The Epitome of Love'.

My parents marriage is also an arranged one. And whenever they have disagreement and that leads to verbal war, they let out this words, 'I'm here with you because of my 2 daughters otherwise I would've left you long back'. So... Yeah. Here, most of the marriages are child-centered. Again, it's not just my opinion. Majority of the arranged marriage based family revolve around their child.

And I was born, a year after my parents' marriage, and If I hadn't been born, then people will question my parent's fertility factor and start to discriminate them. So, I can boldly claim that, I was not born out of Love or something. I was born because of social obligations.

But it doesn't mean, my parents don't love each other now. How should I say???? It's like a Stockholm Syndrome??!!!! Like when you stay with a person for a long time, you will eventually start to develop some feelings over the course of the time. It took them 15 years to come to a complete understanding of each other. It's the same case with many couples here.

Considering all these, Sasuke never even stayed with Sakura enough to make her understand him, So I wonder what kind of couple are they????? Weird!!!!!

In conclusion: the pairings were, in fact, created for the sole purpose of bringing forth the next generation, and that was made CANONICALLY true.

Awww!!!! Man, Seriously???? I made this claim long back in this post where I said, these women were used as a tool to bring out Next Generation Kids. My claim was based on Analytical Perspective.

And then one of the rabid SS stan reblogged my post and pulled out a hetero card stating, 'They are married and blah blahh...' when in reality, I never discussed about their sexuality in that post. That post was purely based on the number of pages each hetero couples shared with each other against the number of pages Sasuke & Naruto shared together.

Now, you have provided a cultural perspective for those shitty canon pairings.

On one side, I feel the need to smirk, because I am right.

But on the other side, I feel bad like, 'Is this how, this show must go on?? What are you trying to convey from this?'.

You know what IS a symbol of romantic love in Japan? Being willing to die together when the love you feel goes against your moral obligations, holding on to the belief that you will be reunited in the afterlife, where you will be free of any burden and able to love freely.

Hmmm.... It's interesting to know this. Anon.

This is where it differs slightly in my country.

Romantic love here is,

No matter what happens, I'll stand with you, You are just not alone. I will leave my fucking clan, parents, relatives if they don't approve you and we will start a new life somewhere.

[[Here, marriages happen mostly between their clan members. If you love a person from another clan, you will be ostracized or tortured or honour killed by your very parents. It just differs from clan to clan. I was subjected to this same problem and that's why I hate my Clan and left my parents. And this is also one of the reason why I love Itachi. Because we share similar Ideals. That is, Not to be obsessed over your clan and think beyond this restriction.

Also, here in Asian Culture if someone is willing to leave their family (when they don’t approve you) and prefer you over everything.... It means.... that's some Love beyond Comprehension. Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his Family (like Sakura and Kakashi) and like to stand with Sasuke... Just like how Naruto was willing to leave his own family and go on a long mission with Sasuke]]

So does it remind you of anything?????

It's the whole SNS dynamics starting from their childhood to VoTE2. That's why I started to ship SNS, because it represents the true love we always wish for.

Would it have been better if they hadn’t gone down that "safe" route? Hell, yeah! It would have been fucking amazing and could even have been groundbraking, for several reasons. BUT as unsatisfying as it may be, the fact is they chose a very TRADITIONAL depiction of marriage that has little to do with feelings, and that in itself shouldn’t be taken lightly, since it leaves the strongest bond, which is grounded on genuine love, untouched. In this scenario, justifying romantic love through marriage alone won’t cut it

This is very true, Anon.

I mean, they don’t even have to take a groundbreaking route. 

They should have given everyone an open ending, just like Kishi left at chapter 699. What is the need of a marriage, if Naruto is going to adopt Kawaki??? If Orochimaru was going to create a Baby Artificially?? If Rock Lee is going to have a child out of nowhere???

But I am happy that SNS bond is the only one that wasn’t diminished in this hot mess called Burrito. So, atleast we should be happy about that.

When someone pulls the marriage card, I just block them immediately because they are not even worth having a good conversation. NH will pull out the Last movie and SS will pull out, ‘Sasuke called Sakura ‘My Wife’.... So, it’s just pointless.

So, to conclude

Considering my Analytical perspective, I already made earlier in other post and your ask which provides some insight about Japanese culture which eerily resembles the culture I belong to, It all makes sense that this whole pairings and trash is just for the sake of bringing out Next Generation series and those boys never loved those girls whole heartedly. And I agree with you on this.

[philosophicalparadox]

All good points. I like the ship, on a certain level, but I acknowledge 100% that it's not meant to be canon. Not the way a lot of people seem to deliberately misinterpret it to be.

And honestly it's the weird and the tumultuous that makes it appealing for me. Casca really doesn't "belong" with anyone for as long as she doesn't have her own identity IMO. At the very least she's not going to have a very healthy or normal relationship with anyone for as long as that is true. And it is true - Casca has a defined personality, and is more dynamic than most female characters of the age - but she still has no identity. No sense of self outside the "role" she assigns herself as Griffith's - well, anything. His sword, his protector, his lover (she hopes).

She has no identity.

But None of them do.

Forgive me if I go on a meta tangent here.

Guts has no identity either. He exists because he exists. Part of what made Promrose sting so bad I think was Griffith saying he couldn't respect anyone who lived for the sake of living, who survived for the sake of survival, because that's all Guts has ever done.

And take it from someone who's been in relationships like this when I say that a romantic relationship between two very insecure people who don't know themselves can be hell. That's not to say it's always bad - there does exist the true story of two people figuring themselves out with each other. But those stories usually only come true when both people have good or at least existent support systems. Neither Guts nor Casca do, outside of Griffith and Judeau. And Judeau is his own can of worms; I personally really like JudCa as a ship because their dynamics play together well, but there's a reason he never took center stage. (Bad joke i know).

As for Griffith - I know people are gonna be all like "what do you MEAN this man has no identity?" And yeah, he does - but it's not his.

Griffith, per his own admission, has whatever identity he needs to have. He has whatever identity people project onto him. That is not the same as having an identity of his own. Just the opposite - it means he can't have his own identity, because otherwise the façade is ruined too easily.

And that is exactly why Casca and Guts cling to him so. Because he can be whatever they need him to be, and they have no frame of reference to tell either of them otherwise, because Griffith is just like that.

Do they both know more of his "real" self than anyone else? Yes - and no. Because there really isn't a "real" Griffith. There's whatever "Griffith" needs to exist for the present moment to go in his or his men's favor - and, tellingly, Guts or Casca's favor, though we don't directly see a lot of the latter. (It does exist though - you really think Casca would be safe from her male comrades on her own? As romantic as that sounds, no, I don't think she would be, not unless Griffith used his authority to dissuade them.)

So here you have three people with very little sense of self all trying to work it out together, and the only one even remotely capable of providing for what the other two lack is himself a dress up doll for other people's ambitions and desires. Beautiful Angst dynamic, but not built upon the most stable foundations.

Dont get me wrong. I am all for the ot3, personally, and I like Gutsca as a ship unto itself in some respects. But if you stick to canon then there isnt really a healthy way for it to work out no matter how it's sliced. Griffith would never let them peacefully be together, no matter how much he might care about them, because he's too possessive and jealous by nature.

They would themselves not work out well because Guts and Casca both are fixated on the inadvertent third wheel, leaving too little room between them to work things out. Besides which their personalities, while compatible with enough compromise, are rough waters going in a relationship - Casca is stubbornly independent, but fairly weak willed when push comes to shove. Guts is also stubborn in general and very strong willed, and if you push him, he will shove back. The power dynamic between them could never be what Guts wants, which is an equal. He's just too overwhelming of a persona to be balanced against anyone that couldn't hold their own in perpetuity. Casca I feel would absolutely fight him in the beginning, and certainly has no issues telling him off. But Casca doesnt trust anyone, (I don't even think she trusts Griffith 100% despite acting like it) and I feel like no matter how much she may trust Guts, the first time he lost his temper at her, she would lose that trust, regardless of if he did anything physical to her. Guts is the same way - he doesn't seem to have a lot of experience with women and is reluctant to trust one because they're strange little aliens to him, to say nothing of his trust issues in general. Casca has little self control, and we have already seen her trigger him once when she tried to slap him - he kept most of his composure then, but in the middle of a heated argument? I don't think I'd trust him not to lash out in self defense tbh. I dont think he would ever hurt or hit her on purpose, but as an automatic reaction I dint think it could be discounted. He also doesn't have the best self control or sense of boundaries, and combined with Casca's difficulty making said boundaries I just can't envision a loving, trusting relationship without a lot of soul-searching for both of them, though in particular Casca; as long as she won't consistently assert herself, the scales of power are going to remain tipped in Guts direction.

Mind you, for the rough pseudo time period Berserk is in (the pilot gave us 1425 as a date, and Id say it doesn't stray too far from that in canon except where armor and clothing are concerned) that imbalance of power is expected in a het relationship. Women were taught from a young age what their role was - and considering Casca left her parents at 12, she had plenty of time for that message to sink in. Whether she agrees with it or not, she does default to a more submissive, subservient role with men she admires. She does it with Griffith, she does it with Guts. (Though I want to add that this is probably due to Miura's own ideas and the time period he grew up in, in Japan, where women were and sometimes still are expected to fill a similarly supportive, submissive role. You see her kind of character de-volvement all over anime and manga, especially early stuff; as much as I wish it were a reflection of historical accuracy that is unlikely. I just point it out because, coincidence or not, it works well in the context of the story.) Point being that Guts would never feel fulfilled in that kind of relationship - he has no desire to feel like he has power over another person, and the idea of it demonstratably scares him - no need to state why that is.

I know there's no mention of the ever-taboo GriffCa but in the interests of pointing out character dynamics, Griffith and Casca have too many of the wrong things in common. No sense of self, too self sacrificing, not good at establishing solid boundaries.

The difference is that Griffith is adaptable and can act. He also has more going for him in the bluffing department. Casca can demonstratably cow Guts, we see her do it right before they do the deed. But she doesn't have the same history or power vibe, and Guts does not fear her reprise or anger the same way. Griffith is important to Guts, his opinion of him is important, and so the weight of his admonishments mean more. Can you imagine if Griffith were chewing Guts out like that? Forget about dissociating and reverting to the "I'm a kid in trouble" evasion, he'd straight up want to just curl up and die.

Which is among the reasons why their relationship couldn't be healthy, either. Guts has no sense of identity, and looks to Griffith to give him one. Griffith I feel thinks Guts already has that sense of self, because Guts so easily conforms to whatever Griffith tells him to be, and vice versa. They're each playing a game of loving deception with one another and neither of them is aware the other person is doing it; and though Guts is vaguely aware, to some extent, that Griffith isn't "genuine" as a person after Promrose, he still wildly misinterprets it and assigns Griffith a identity based on his traumas. Trauma-projecting.

I guess my point in all this is that they're all fucked up in similar ways, and while I love fanfiction in which they all work it out, (im even writing one!) even if Canon had ignored Fate or had it be different and put any of them together, there'd still be plenty of problems for certain members of fandom to ignore for the sake of misinterpretation, I guess.

That is NOT to say that i have any issue at all with deliberately OOC or fix it fics - to the contrary I love writing and reading them. They're great; these characters need some fluff in their lives. I get that. I'm just saying that these characters are seriously messed up in canon, and watching people take that and ignore it maliciously, for lack of a better term, or worse, somehow not see it at all - feels disrespectful to the story in a way.

Sorry had to get that out of my system.

Miura saying gutsca aren’t in love yet makes a lot of sense. It’s not just that Guts struggles to center her throughout the story, but also that Miura never used the obvious romantic beats (like Guts saying the 100 man battle wasn’t fought for Casca specifically) and even structuring the story where Guts makes decisions that went against their budding romance (like keeping Casca in the dark about Griffith’s fake poisoning knowing it’ll hurt her). The foundation always seemed shakey to begin with

Yeah, it was not the most surprising thing he could have said about them to be honest. In the past I was always a bit reluctant to talk about Gutsca's specific feelings for each other because it's such an untouchable given to so many people but to me it was clear that... even though the relationship was probably intended to have potential and to be something readers could hope to see come to fruition, it was also specifically designed to have very serious challenges from both sides.

My feeling about the 100 man battle is that it was a combination of venting his frustration over Promrose and wanting to protect Casca not because he cared about Casca on a personal level but because he saw her having a dream (being with Griffith) as something that elevated her over him - a person who had no particular goals. So he both respects her enough to want her to survive to pursue her goals and sees her as a more worthy companion for Griffith than him (thus the matchmaking).

And honestly, if we were meant to see the romance as a perfect soulmate connection you wouldn't have so many blatant red flags between them - the skipped romantic beats, the mutual prioritization of Griffith to the point where they each independently decided to cancel their plans without talking to each other about it, right through to the the post-Eclipse world where he ditched her in a cave for two years.

Just offhand, other screaming red flags include:

Obviously the way Casca literally considered going after Griffith again during the rescue and then complained to Guts about it.

-and the fact that Guts was like, "I guess I'm just going to let it happen."

The way Guts reacted to Rickert and Erica saying she'd wandered off A MONTH AGO by being bitchy at Rickert and then having a chill conversation with Godo and going to bed. Sure he was mad about it and worried about her, but even so he showed no intention or drive towards looking for her himself; he only decided to do so when he started thinking about the Hawks and having abandoned Griffith and resultantly lost both him and the Hawks as a whole.

Nearly letting her burn to death in conviction (actually I guess he DID let her burn to death, it's Isidro that prevented it from actually happening)

Immediately considering ditching her again when Griffith came back and again only deciding to focus on her because he thought about his bad decisions re: Griffith and the Hawks.

Spending half of the next volume resenting her, fantasizing about raping and killing her and making actual attempts to do both of those things, resulting in her being terrified of him for the rest of the series until Elfhelm

Guts pulling Casca around on a rope

Skull Knight's warning that what Guts and Casca want may not be the same thing.

That line about being unable to put things back the way they were even if you want to

The way Miura blocked Guts from answering every time someone asked him about their relationship - this one is interesting because he does the same thing when Guts tries to consider killing Griffith - its the equivalent of "....." (and sometimes literally ..... in Griffith's case), which makes me think its a way of conveying his complicated/mixed feelings.

The fact that her mindscape portrays their relationship as Guts being burdened by her (in the coffin)

The fact that in said mindscape the Guts dog nearly destroyed Casca/her coffin when the Griffith image showed up

And three more complicated things:

First, the way he envisions her when he thinks about her and what was lost. I always found it interesting that he very rarely thinks about their romance - I think he flashes back to their meadow scene like one time. Most of the time he thinks of her as a soldier, and I just find that very interesting.

Second, the way she can't look at him post-restoration or, more specifically, his reaction to it. I'm not saying he doesn't wish it weren't like that. It's just that his attitude about it really echoes back to when she was vacillating over him and Griffith again - he just lets it happen and doesn't really have much of a reaction to it. He's just willing to let her slip away. This one is more complicated because I do think it hurts him, but I don't think his passive acceptance and relative lack of frustration or reaction is... great for their prospects.

And third, the way he literally hasn't thought about her even once since she got kidnapped. The reason I consider this one complicated is because obviously the series is no longer by Miura, and has become a sort of highlights version that reflects the story as relayed to Mori. But the interesting side effect of that is that we kind of know what Miura considered the most important parts of the story -- the bones onto which he would have layered flavor and personality and nuance.

And apparently what he told Mori was "Griffith kidnaps Casca and Guts becomes depressed because his sword let him down and then loses his mind thinking about Griffith, which I find very telling.

Now that may have seemed like a sidenote/rant but it isn't. Because it's the same thing - Miura repeatedly raised situations that could have been utilized to solidify their bond and convey that Guts loved her, or at least that he prioritized her well-being over Griffith(whether Griffith himself, his machinations or Guts own war against him), but the opportunity was undermined it every time right down to the big romantic reunion turning into a horror show.

Of course that doesn't mean they won't end up together - I do think the reader is probably meant to want them to work their shit out and get it together and find each other again. Even so I do think those flaws, those red flags, are there it's just a question of whether they get past them or not.

I think for me the biggest argument against them ending up together is that one of the biggest issues Guts has is that he's kind of ... trapped in the past. "The campfire still burns" and all. That has always been portrayed a general negative - his fixation with Gambino was a problem and the way he refused to let go of the Hawks even when they'd all died was so weird and unnerving that Rickert was visibly uncomfortable with it. Also his inability to move on from the Hawks is what fuels his revenge drive, and Berserk has always portrayed that as self-destructive.

Point being I just wonder if having him end up with the woman he spent one night with and then moped about for years thereafter - someone who explicitly represents the Hawks that hes' been unable to let go of or move on from to his own detriment - is really the way it's meant to go.

I mean, maybe the answer is yes that's how it's meant to go, I wouldn't be shocked. But it's a decent question nonetheless. Something to ponder, I guess.

[redorich]

-slips into your inbox-

Hullo red, 'tis me, Fidget. Here to haunt your inbox because you have gravely wounded me with so many things today.

First of all, sad Phil. God, he guts me. 'Impulse has a family, he does not need Philza.' has ripped out my heart. Please, this man has been trough so much. Willbur died by his own hands, Tommy he almost killed because he believed dream, and apparently not even Techno trusts him. After all, he did keep Tommy's location a secret from even him for a long time. (That Techno is loyal to a fault does not matter in this horrible interpretation of things.)

And then.

And THEN you hit me with the replaced family bit? Bdkandjakyba. My heart is weak and fragile, please Red.. Please I just... Want this family to heal a little. Someone please teach Phil that he can not shoulder the burden of the world by himself, that he was just one man in a war torn world who did the best he could. And his best wasn't good enough, but that doesn't mean he wasn't trying, that he is a bad person for it.

Like, Tommy had a whole, peaceful Server of well adjusted adults looking out for him and Phil had his bootstraps and the voices of the blood god first in his own and then in Techno's head.

It must've been hard to keep sane (I don't think he quite managed either.)

And maybe Phil doesn't go to see impulse to help him. Because he can see that the hermits are doing a much better job than he ever could, can see that Impulse is getting better not worse like Phil did all that time ago.

But Impulse now helped to save two of his sons. Perhaps Phil ought to make the journey and thank him, shoulders heavy with broken wings and broken hopes. He couldn't give his family what they needed, but impulse could. The hermits could.

It would be rude to leave this deed unacknowledged. (Perhaps Impulse or another hermit who's around sees the Trauma that seems to cling to this family like tar and thinks: Oh, it's free real estate(for adoption). You did mention Xisuma likes to adopt sad people.)

Cleo keeps nudging Philza to talk to Impulse. Philza's friendship with Cleo is new, so he can't yet tell whether it's an "as an immortal I'm telling you not to make a mistake" thing or an "I'm a nosy little weasel" thing. Not that Philza would ever call Cleo a nosy little weasel to her face, even if she'd probably take it as a compliment.

So, he goes and says hello to Impulse in his giant quartz base, even though he doesn't want to. Impulse, for his part, looks a bit taken aback, but takes the visit in stride.

“Y’know, call me crazy, but I got the impression that you don’t like me much,” Impulse laughs awkwardly.

Philza tilts his head, recalling his interactions with Impulse-- or rather, lack thereof. “Oh, ‘cause I was avoiding you?”

Impulse starts, caught off guard by the blatant admission. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did.”

Waving off the concern, Philza speaks freely. “Nah mate, you’re fine. I’ve got no quarrel with you. Anyway, I was just stopping by to say thank you. For-- for taking care of Tommy, and Techno too.” Philza smiles wryly. “’S more than I ever did for them, I guess.”

“You did plenty,” Impulse protests with a furrowed brow. “Techno talks about you all the time.”

The immortal blond blinks, as if he didn’t expect to hear that. “Eh,” he says in lieu of addressing it. Instead, he changes the topic completely.

“I’m trying out this whole ‘Hermit Therapy’ thing,” he says with a shrug, “so I guess that means I’m supposed to talk about my feelings or something? And I’m a grown-ass man, so that feels more than a bit condescending, but I suppose I’ll tell you my opinion so I can at least say I tried.”

Impulse winces at the harsh, uncaring way Philza addresses the situation. Should Impulse be offering Philza a place to sit? For all the redstone farms in the base, there isn’t a chair to be found. Philza doesn’t seem to care.

“I tried raising my kids. Failed.” Philza runs a hand through the long feathers on one of his wings. “You came in and taught Tommy more about being a person than I ever did. That’s fine, he deserves it. I can’t hold it against you.”

“I--” Impulse tries to interject, but Philza talks over him.

“You helped Techno-- I never did figure out how to do that. Again, he needed that, and I’d be a petty fool to get upset just because the person who gave him what he needed wasn’t me.” Philza’s mouth flattens into a grim line.

“But then,” he says, “you went above and beyond. You saw Kharneth hurting Techno-- my boy. And you gave him hope that Kharneth could be killed. Do you know how long I spent, trying to help him come to terms with the fact that Kharneth isn’t someone-- something that can or should be killed?”

Impulse leans back, shoving his hands in his pockets. He knows that Philza tried killing Kharneth, the Blood God, and paid a price, but...

Philza runs a jittery hand through his hair. “And then you did it! You killed the Blood God. And I thought, oh, this poor man doesn’t know what he’s done. Surely the Blood God’s powers will break this man’s mind-- after all, if I couldn’t handle it, how could this soft human hope to?”

Wincing again, Impulse stays quiet. Obviously Philza needs to say his piece.

“Then you did,” the immortal says. “Why is it that everything I’ve ever done, everything I’ve ever tried to do, you’re better at it than me? You’ve got my sons wrapped around your finger, you’ve got better control of those powers than I ever did, you’re goddamn happy,” the man spits.

“...I’m sorry you feel that way,” Impulse says in mild shock, groping for the right words.

“And the worst part!” Philza steamrolls over Impulse’s apology, “Is that I don’t even hate you!”

Impulse blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re just...” Philza sighs, holding a wing in front of him like a shield. “You’re everything I wish I was, and I’m jealous and I’m mature enough to recognize that, but... is it weird of me to want to be friends with you too?”

Licking his lips, Impulse chooses his words carefully. “I’d love to be friends with you. For what it’s worth... You’ve got your own strengths, it’s just... harder for you to see them? Because you’re looking at everyone else’s strengths, comparing yourself to them, and evidently, uh. Finding yourself falling short.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I’d never last a month in a hardcore world.”

Philza looks away. “Hardcore, the one thing I’m known for. Easy enough for you to say.” He frowns, not because he’s upset with Impulse, but because he realizes he’s being a cantankerous bastard.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you too well,” Impulse says diplomatically. “Maybe... Yeah, let’s be friends.” He claps his hands together with the air of a man making a plan. “I’ll get to know you better, and then I can tell you what you’re good at, until you can learn to see it for yourself.”

The immortal swipes at Impulse’s head with a wing, but pulls the swing so that he only barely brushes the man with feather-tips. “Good lad,” he says gruffly, but he can’t quite hide his smile.