#i feel like the flash fandom is the only one i can cope with because i only go in the cisco tag which is very sparsly populated

[nazgulpridefest]

Unnecessarily long rant post about various tcc related things

(selfships, ships, bad headcanons, columposers, "femcels")

I like actually hate tcc selfships so much, I don't care when people say freaky shit about tcc people cause most the time they're joking and I do it too. But like genuine selfships, like drawing themselves or an self insert or an oc with tcc people (what am I even supposed to call them)

Like I hate seeing those blogs where it's like "Dylan's little girl >.<" (extremely directed, you know who you are..). Or like drawing themselves with their favs (in a not joking way), even edits and "___ x oc/reader" fics. Theres another person on TikTok who makes edits of them x Andrew blaze, it makes me so mad cause I think im finding a cool edit and then I get flash banged with some randoms face.

Also I really don't care for the "well what if they're coping, this is a coping mechanism" argument like no, I don't care, cope some other way WITHOUT SHIPPING YOURSELF WITH KILLERS. Having a crush or intrest in a tcc person is okay but like genuinely shipping yourself with them is lowk kinda weird. Cause like I hate seeing people ship themselves with Eric or Dylan (in a serious sense, not a stupid funny haha) and they're everything Eric and Dylan hate. Like I hope you know they would've shot you if they knew about that

The selfshippers are usually so annoying too, like "ohemgee!!!! Don't say that abt Dylan he's mine!!1!1!1!" And then you get doxxed or some shit, like please go outside and touch some grass. Half the time they're greasy as hell or those "ohmigod I'm such a femcel lol!! >__<" just bcuz they're tcc and a female whose just a little different.

It's a little different with movie tcc people, like Andre and Cal because they are fictional and didn't actually shoot up a school. Even those ones are on thin ice, but I don't see as much of them luckily but I do see a lot of shitty Caldre.

Shitty Caldre as in Calvin is suddenly a AuDHD he/they shy femboy and Andre is a big tough guy whose actually secretly a big softie for cal and they go on little dates. Like no oh my god you clearly did not watch the movie, the only way I think of them as "dating" (using this VERY loosely) is them just being normal teenage boys, like when guys their age flirt because they're close friends. Sometimes a little bit of Caldre is okay but only when they're properly displayed the same way they are in the movie. Same with dylric, they were just close friends and had a distaste for gay people (from what I know) and I don't really know how to feel about dylric, but anytime I see one of those "Eric and Dylan kissing and being gay boyfriends >___<" posts I cry a little.

Plus the bad headcanons attached to both pairings, like I just wanna rip my hair out everytime I see one of those long headcanon posts and there's not a single good one, it's always like the "when they cuddle.." things. If I'm gonna take time out of my day to read a headcanon sheet it better be good, or bad fanfics like why am I even reading this. Sometimes bad fanfics are good but it's always the like 100-500 word ones that make me want to peel off the first layer of my skin, cause you can tell what kind of person is lurking behind that screen, it's probably some 11/12 year old that found out about zero day but never watched the movie. I feel like sometimes most people in the zero day fandom never watched the movie, also personal opinion I don't think that Andre self harms if I'm being so real here. Like I get where they're coming from with Cal but I don't get it with Andre.

I also don't like the people who dress like Cal and Andre, I own the shirts and sometimes I wear them but I never genuinely dress up as them, I usually wear them around my house, it's more of a "oh no I have no clean laundry" and I just have to wear it. But like people who go into full cosplay, like I saw someone genuinely buy a wig for it, like please ohmygyat. It just feels like seeing a columposer and I have a hatred for columposers, like tell me why you thought it was a good idea to leave your home in a wrath or natural selection shirt, like Columbine isn't underground, it was a real national tragedy.

Liking Columbine is fine as long as you aren't doing anything weird or harmful, but I feel like dressing as them puts you in both categories. But they always think they're so cool, it's always the most basic Columbine fans. They always listen to KMFDM or Rammstein and if they're trans (9 times out of 10 they usually are) they go by Dyl or Dylan. Plus they just take all of their personality from Eric and Dylan, it's always those intro posts that are like "name: Dylan music: KMFDM drink: Dr Pepper".

Please get a real personality oh my god 😢😢 cause I see like 20 people like that a day, please can we get some originality in this community. But the kind of columposers I hate the most is the ones that think they're the next Eric Harris, like calm down edge lord you're 14... they're manifestos always sound the same like "I hate everybody..... nobody understands me... they're all gonna feel my wrath... I'm gonna be worse than Eric and Dylan could ever be... mwhahahahah..." like shut up oh my god. You are not Eric's top guy bud, then they own a natural selection shirt and when they try to actually shoot up their school they just get caught cause it's always the people in private school trying to be the next Columbine. Like it's not my fault you live in the suburbs chill out.

It's so annoying to come on this app or look at the news and it another retard who thinks they're the second coming. And I have no shame admitting that I hate that Samantha chick, she honestly seemed so fucking annoying. And I hate the stupid "ERM... if you hate her you're misogynistic..." like what 😭. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean I'm a bad guy for hating her, I wasn't thinking about her gender when I decided I hated her ass. There's a new case every week, she's not special. She honestly was the worse thing I've heard about, everytime I hear about her I want to gouge my eyes out, she was just a supreme edge lord who thought she could be Eric. She thought she was so special for hating women like she wasn't a woman, like how fucking stupid are you, plus it's kinda pathetic how she only killed two people (all respect towards them) and then just killed herself, like oh my god at that point just kill yourself in your own house.

I also know the argument of Adam being a columposer is gonna come up, like "how are you gonna say you hate columposers but you worship one". Like yes I'm aware of the fact his shooting was "inspired" by columbine but he was also delusional as hell, like he was an autistic schizo that didn't leave his house. There was a lot more going into that shooting than just Columbine in mind, I don't really think of him as a columposer because it was a lot of psychological issues as well but I get where people are coming from when they say he's a columposer.

But still on the topic of Samantha and her being a woman hater, I just fucking hate femcels, not real femcels but "femcels >___< 🎀" LIKE OH MY GYAT. You aren't a femcel you delusional creep, you're just a female on tumblr get over it, you aren't special. Theyre all the same too, I feel like all femcel accounts are run by the same person. Theyre always some cutecore shit and have micro bangs, they all look the same.

Being a femcel or just an incel is just being frustrated with the lack of sexual or romantic opportunity in their life, that is the dictionary definition. You aren't a femcel if you bedrot, like Columbine, tcc in general, cutecore, hate women or men, if you're just delusional, or a Sematary fan. I feel like no one actually knows what being an incel or femcel means and it pisses me off so much because it's like saying the sky is green. Like you aren't a femcel, there's literally men in your dm's and you have a boyfriend shut up oh my god. It's just so infuriating seeing people being wrong all the time, I hate when I see false information.

It just makes me so mad and that's what most of this rant has been about, I hate seeing people be wrong like you're wrong because this tcc person would've hated you so much. You're wrong because that's not how these people were displayed in the movie. You're wrong because you're not gonna be the next Eric and Dylan. You're wrong because you're not a real femcel.

Sorry if this came off as annoying in anyway but I feel like i genuinely needed to get that off my chest cause im tired of it all.

[pillowspace]

hi! hope ur doing well! out of curiosity, do you have an ISAT playlist? and if so, would you be cool with sharing it? I’ve been trying to find some good songs related to the game and i’m familiar with a lot of the artists you listen to so i figured i’d ask :)

I only just recently joined the In Stars and Time fandom, so I don't have many songs yet, but yeah!

I also started typing out notes under the readmore for (most of) the songs because I thought I'd only have a few, but then I... kept thinking of more songs, so the notes section got bigger? So uh...!! Feel free to read that or not. Up to you, shrug

I actually had not heard this song until my Spotify started randomly playing recommended songs while I was in the middle of drawing Siffrin, and the second I started processing the lyrics about familiarity and time travel, I did a startled glance over like "wh... what's playing??" This song plagues my ISAT visions

---

Genuinely been wanting to make an animatic out of the first minute but I don't know if I have it in me. Just saying, the "smi-i-i-ile" has enough in it to fit every different photo from the mirror

---

FLASHING COLOURS AT THE 3 MINUTE MARK:

One specific thing I have to note with this song is that I like to envision Siffrin waking up in the meadow on the line "the day I wake up naked in the dirt."

---

"The million what if Is between your ears. The feelings of regret, and now I'm running to forget. But know, the consequence of imagination's fear" thinks about Siffrin and Bonnie, thinks about Siffrin and Bonnie, thinks ab-- oh yeah, and the bit about ruby eyes reminds me of 2hats

---

FLASHING AT THE 3 MINUTE MARK AND LOUD POTENTIALLY OVERWHELMING SOUNDS AT THE END:

A song about feeling hurt and giving all that you've gone for an acting performance?? Back to the stage, Siffrin

---

There's some lines that aren't too too fitting for ISAT, but I'm fond of this song, so I can spin a meaning onto them with enough thinking power. Nonetheless, there still are plenty of fitting parts. Post-canon Siffrin coping after the loops :)

---

Interestingly, I've actually had this song associated with going mad from time loops since ages before I played In Stars and Time. "Maddening. It's a regular bad thing" and "nothing's really happening." Plus "I'm afraid to lose you" ties into ISAT pretty well

---

Specifically Loop tends to cross my mind whenever this comes on lately

---

I like to imagine this being about Siffrin as a child on their island being a little wanderer before that meant something else, then it slowly leading into Siffrin's adulthood (bend gravity and space being about the loops)

---

I'll never hear the sound of someone calling me home... I was the beast all alone in my hell........

[potatoesandsunshine]

hello! for the fic asks, this part from "like a wolf in the doorway":

 Percy takes a breath, looking at the inked veins and the scribbled notes in the margins, thinking of blood flow. “Oliver liked to climb trees.”

   Just saying it leaves him breathless. He can summon up the image clearly now, untainted by the dark cloud he now thinks was the demon, and it somehow hurts all the more to picture Ollie and Whitney running across the castle grounds, play-fighting in the spring air. There is no rage to catch him and put him back into motion; only a deep, aching emptiness remains.

   He drags in air, but he’s drowning.

   Pike isn’t in armor today. She moves carefully into his space—she does everything carefully—and catches his good hand in hers. Her skin is warm. When did he get so cold?

   “Thank you for telling me,” is all she says, and then she starts a long story about Grog, her great-great-grandfather, and a herd of perilously stubborn goats. By the time she reaches the punchline, he’s well enough to laugh.

   “We can do this today,” he says, looking at the parts and looking at her, a wild rush buoying him. “It’ll work, I know it.”

   And Pike, probably realizing that he’ll do it alone if she refuses, says yes.

    He comes to on the floor of the workshop with the soft golden veil of the Everlight’s power over his mind, dulling the memory—the length of soiled bandages peeled back, Pike holding his wrist down with furious strength as he tried to fit everything together, nothing to numb him and it was so, so bad, he’d shouted—it’s all fading quickly, and he doesn’t want to drag it back up. He can leave this pain here in this room. 

   His throat aches and Pike is inspecting his left hand, bending the fingers one by one to touch the smooth metal that sits where his palm used to be. There’s an empty socket there, but she doesn’t ask what he’s going to put in it.

   Percy smiles, a bright flash of teeth.

hi!!!!!!! thank you so much!!! i love talking about my fic and the tlovm oneshots project as a whole was a really fun experiment to do. i wanted to be a little more involved in the fandom as the show was coming out, and i set the ‘just try to write 1k about each episode’ bar intentionally low so that it couldn’t intimidate me. this was a pretty big success - i didn’t really manage to keep current with the release of the show, but it did keep me writing all through 2023 :) now about this passage specifically!!

“Oliver liked to climb trees.”

the older i get the sadder i get about the de rolo children. genuinely it is so so so sad.

There is no rage to catch him and put him back into motion; only a deep, aching emptiness remains.

i wanted this moment of really abrupt and painful vulnerability for percy - i feel like tlovm!percy is even worse at dealing with his emotions than campaign!percy, mostly due to the compressed nature of the adaptation - and what i want most with this character is to turn the rock over and see all of his metaphorical bugs wriggling around underneath. a huge part of this fic was me wanting to address the demon as a coping mechanism; i wanted it to feel worse to remember the good times once he could remember them clearly, because it comes with the pain of knowing he’ll never have those days again. sometimes smiling because it happened brings no comfort at all.

Pike isn’t in armor today. She moves carefully into his space—she does everything carefully—and catches his good hand in hers.

it was also a big priority for me that the characters sometimes get things wrong about each other in these oneshots! pike does not do everything carefully - but percy needs to think she does. it’s not that she’s being dishonest or anything, but he’s encountering her in an extremely specific context in this scene and he’s choosing to read that as a blanket statement about her personality. we’re pre-sunken tomb in this scene, but he’s already looking to put people on pedestals around himself; if he’s looking up, he doesn’t have to face the huge pit of grief inside. wow this fic is a downer!

“We can do this today,” he says, looking at the parts and looking at her, a wild rush buoying him.

THAT’S MY KING OF MOOD SWINGS!!!!! YOU CAN INVENT YOUR WAY OUT OF ANY TRAUMA IF YOU JUST INVENT HARD ENOUGH!

He comes to on the floor ... He can leave this pain here in this room.

it’s genuinely a minor miracle from pike that allowed this surgery to happen - a fun bit of irony, since percy really doesn’t put much stock in the divine. and i’m not being subtle in this paragraph; he can leave this pain here, but he’s carrying the rest of it with him forever. this whole pike scene is kind of... the relief of ripping off the scab if that makes sense? it might not be a good move in the long run, but at least you’ve done something with all of it in the moment.

Percy smiles, a bright flash of teeth.

this is a triumphant moment for him. i wanted to turn Diplomacy into a collaborative piece, to reflect the combo-move it was with vax later on in the show & because i love putting pike and percy in a room together. i wish it had happened more during the campaign, and i’m desperate for it in tlovm (though i don’t really expect to get it, there’s just not time). so he’s smiling, and he won, but he’s also always picking at scabs and becoming the architect of his own destruction. that’s the secret sauce for percy imo. he should always be building the next thing that ruins him, especially if that thing is himself.

[divinekangaroo]

While "patiently" waiting for fic updates :) , was wondering what other stories you're working/will be working on? Will you be writing still when you go back to work?

No pressure btw, this is me trying to manage my expectations XD

lol, yeah -> my 8 hours of blissful 'do nothing but write idly' day has dropped to about 2 hrs in the evening. the increasing arc of life resuming. The writing is still ok in these 2hr bursts but getting it to a readable standard is agony. The one benefit is that these 2 hours are probably going to be the same 2 hours I'll have once back at work.

My past fandom experience is that I usually mono-play in a fandom for around 5 years -- but I've never had kids+work+other family commitments when writing before.

I do hope I still have the drive to keep writing once am back at work. I can already feel that anxious itch of pressure, though, and my way of coping with pressure is to aggressively prune everything (friends, family, hobbies, chores, self) that causes the slightest bit of peripheral friction so I can concentrate on the thing that I can't prune (work, money, survival). BUT, this time, I go back to a new area-director role rather than my past project-director role, which should have less crazy deadline pressure/inconsistent hours than most construction work, so I'm just not sure what to expect. It'll be the first time in my life when I actually have a desk job with consistent hours.

Of my current Last Second Ending arc, I really want to finish the Holford fic, the Diana fic, and the Charlie fic (the 'Churchill' vehicle, although I'm so many chapters away from Churchill it's nuts!), which are all the live and incomplete multi-parters-- but as multiparts they are more challenging to do. I have several other ideas/snips scattered through the timeline, but they're fairly short as drabbles, flash-fic or circa 10k standalones, so they will be less heavy to complete and easier to do around work hours -- but they do tempt me now because they're more easy and fun to produce. This timeline's list of ideas has stayed stable for a couple of months now, so at least I know what 'finished' looks like for this arc, even if I don't quite get there.

I do have two firm AUs which itch at me wildly (timeline arcs again). I'm desperate to write the first piece of both as an anchor/test, but keep deferring because I know I'll have to sanity-check my motivation after finishing (or hitting a motivational brick wall with) Last Second Ending.

The 'easy' AU is the 1990s AU which is Tommy x Lizzie, set broadly post S3 and to the end of S4 as an AU S4. It's easy because there's only a few scenes in my head but they're all pretty heavy/hardcore and I can't find an 'in' for framing them yet.

But the second is that weird-arse Dragon Age II fusion AU which is less pairing focused and more family focused, albeit a great deal of pairings and sex within - but it could be a fascinating little monster of a thing, so I'm letting that simmer in back of mind until well after I get back to work to see if there's sufficient motivational drive. It's likely to become a 'what if the PB version of the Real World also had five millennia of Blights, mages, the Fade and Circles as part of Real World history/currency?' idea (alternatively: magic is real but it's pretty fucking ugly what humans do with it).

I also have about five loose BUF-Britain AU list of flashfic sketch ideas, which are generally 'things and scenes that might happen if Mosley was voted into power and took over england', which is primarily Tommy and Alfie.

And I have one solitary sort-of crackfic sort-of-not-crackfic -- S5 from the 'My Property' scene onwards but with the addition of a male chastity device -- which despite the crack premise will actually be really difficult to write compelllingly with the amount of scene checking and chronology I'd need, and accordingly is so low on the list I only think about it in idle moments to amuse myself.

There were a range of other ideas (like a 28 Days Later AU, or a Butcher x Baker AU, or why can I not have these endlessly magnificent threesomes I desperately want to read) but mostly they were isolated 'wouldn't that be cool' scenes without any sustained continuity or theme, so with time limits, they've sort of withered away.

[ladylilithprime]

We Can Be Your Sword And Shield

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General to Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Half-Fae Dean Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Overprotective Asshole Dean, Dragon Balthazar, Brief Mentions of Canon-Typical Violence, Alicorns Are Evil Flesh-Eating Unicorns, Hurt/Comfort, Never Insist An Employee Smile At You

Summary: The aftermath of a traumatic event is often difficult for everyone involved. Routines can help... most of the time.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 8: Smile

Read on AO3

IT WAS ALMOST like those first five days, back when he and Jimmy had been working off their debt to Sam for the spell that cemented their existence as twins firmly in reality. There was even a similar underlying tension of feeling the need to do a perfect job that his efforts would balance the scales for the service Sam had done them, only somehow worse because this time it wasn't a spell that drained the half-faerie's magical energy, but actual blood and pain and injury sustained saving his and Jimmy's lives and protecting them from physical harm! He knew Jimmy felt similarly, even though it had been Cas who had been in most immediate danger of impalement by the attacking alicorn until Sam had intervened his body between them.

It made Cas grateful that he was usually allowed to hide in the kitchen as whenever the memories of that night pushed to the fore of his mind and his throat closed up he could take his helpless aggression out on a batch of bread dough or a bowl of cookie batter. Baking didn't require him to force words out, even properly scripted ones like he had practiced for general social interaction and basic customer service. Baking did require enough precision of measurement and repetitive motion that he could remain somewhat calm and focused on something other than trumpeting equine bellows, the sharp scents of blood, the flash of a glowing silver-blue blade, the squelch of metal against flesh, or the still-healing wound under the heavy dressing front and back on Sam's right side...

His fault. Dean had said so, barked it sharply and loudly before Sam had snapped at him to mind his tongue or get the hell out before he left his bed to kick Dean's ass. Dean had left then, storming out with a slam of the door that rattled the windows and made Jack flinch and burrow tighter into where he was sitting on Cas's lap and clinging to him and Jimmy with both hands. The hard anger in Sam's face had slid away and he had sighed heavily, wincing in pain.

"It is regrettably the case that Dean has always been prone to lashing out in anger when he is afraid," he had said, slowly easing himself back into the pillow nest on the large, deep couch. "He takes after our father that way, more than he usually likes to admit. I promise you, John Castiel, James Constantine... my injury is not your fault."

Despite knowing that faeries couldn't lie, and so therefore Sam truly did not blame him or Jimmy for the injury, Cas still carried the weight of blame in his heart. Logically he knew that it was a perfectly normal reaction to the shock of sudden combat against a foe he was unprepared to face, plus a facet of survivor's guilt, the lingering fear over his own near-death, and the possibility that Sam could have died instead of merely being injured, which would have left Jack an orphan. As with most emotion-driven difficulties he encountered, logic brought him very little comfort.

Nor did having Sam back in the cafe at work only a week after the alicorn invasion, though he quite understood the half-faerie's discontent with being bedridden. Cas coped much the way he had during the previous week, by mixing up and baking mainly those breads and cookies that Sam had shown a preference for the most. Jimmy found Cas for the usual check-in, but spent most of his time carefully not hovering around their boyfriend and boss, trading off with Charlie to cover when Sam needed to sit down as his energy flagged. At one point, Jimmy even passed along a story Charlie had apparently told about Sam getting injured fighting a manticore and being back at work three days later, which did make Cas feel a little more secure in Sam's estimation of his own healing.

It was closing in on six when the alarm on Sam's phone reminded them that Jack was due at his karate lesson. Since Sam still wasn't cleared to drive yet, Cas and Jimmy held a quick but silent debate, and then Jimmy grabbed the car keys while Cas washed flour off his hands and changed into a clean apron.

"You up for this?" Charlie asked in an undertone when she saw him come out of the back. Cas held up his right hand, displaying the leather and beaded cuff bracelet there.

"I have an interaction script, and the bracelet you made is operating within the expected parameters," he assured her. "I can play Jimmy while Jimmy plays chauffeur for Jack."

He could, and the act of pretending to be his more socially competent twin also helped him focus more on the present than on the last week. His attempts at a pleasant and friendly expression were perhaps not as naturally open and engaging as Jimmy's, but Charlie assured him that so long as he wasn't scowling or using his "resting murder face" then he was fine. Sam jokingly informed him that his "resting murder face" was cute and kissed his cheek, which also improved his mood and ability to be visibly pleasant.

It was somewhat exhausting to try and maintain, however, and about forty-five minutes into his "playing Jimmy" shift Cas realized that Sam was wincing and listing more than usual.

"You promised Jimmy that you would take breaks when you need them," he reminded Sam in an undertone, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We have a line," Sam protested, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I didn't want to leave you and Charlie to handle the rush alone."

"Your health is more important than our discomfort, and most of our regular customers would agree," Cas argued. "Go take a break. If we really need you to come and curse someone, we will call you, and anyone looking for a blessing will be willing to wait."

"Go on, boss," Charlie chimed in, handing Sam a red bean cake and a mug that Cas suspected had peppermint and willow bark tea with honey in it. "Take a break, take your meds, we got this."

"We got this," Cas echoed firmly when Sam looked at him. "Go."

Sam went, and Cas and Charlie slotted into a rotation of taking and making orders. Several of their customers had heard about Sam's injury and were sympathetic and correspondingly patient. Balt came through looking for his usual and any updates on Sam's condition, and gave them a thumbs up when informed that Sam was on break.

The foreboding started when Charlie needed to duck into the back to restock the berry puree, leaving Cas to handle the front himself. He finished making a Raspberry Red Cap Mocha and called it out, handing it over to its recipient before stepping up to the register. "Welcome to Lighthouse CommodiTeas, what can I get started for you?"

The customer, a plump woman in a fussy pink blouse under her gray jacket and pencil skirt, looked up at him and frowned.

"Smile!" she said, sharp and demanding. For a moment, Cas wondered if there was a new special listed on the chalkboard that Charlie had snuck on as a joke, but a quick glance proved that to be incorrect. Which meant that the woman was saying "smile" at him as a directive.

"I am smiling," he told her. He wondered a little if his efforts at a pleasant expression like Jimmy usually had were falling somewhat short of the mark at the moment, but he was not going to say so to a customer. Especially not one who was pinging his "trouble radar".

"You're at work in a job that deals with the public!" the woman snapped with a disapproving frown. "You need to actually smile, not... this!"

Definitely short of the mark, then, but somehow Cas found it very difficult to care.

"Ma'am," he began with his best effort at patience. "My job is to bake the cookies, muffins and scones we sell here so that we can offer food without risking the safety of our human customers, and I have been here since four o'clock this morning. I am currently filling in at the front for the owner who was gored by an alicorn last week and needed to take a break after being on his feet too long. This is as much of a smile as I am capable of." He paused, assessing the expression on the customer's face, which had been getting steadily paler as he spoke, then added, "Do you have a drink order you would like to place?"

The customer floundered a little, opening and closing her mouth, and then finally just muttered, "Medium Siren Song blackberry tea."

"Six dollars," he informed her, ringing up the drink.

"Nicely done," Charlie whispered as she passed to call out the now-completed Unicorn Berry Latte before swapping places with him again.

Cas took a deep breath, let it out, and then went to make the Siren Song blackberry tea.

[yyxandere]

・✶ ｡ﾟ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒

✧.* gender/pronouns ─ “You” pronouns

✧.* prompt ─ “Type of Kisses they give” [ACE ATTORNEY PROSECUTOR.]

✩.* note ─ This was supposed to be a Valentines Fic but I decided to make it a series for all the fandoms I write for :3! Yakuza characters are next!! Hope you guys liked this!! Reader’s height isn’t written but I had tall Reader in mind when doing so!!

✩.* TRIGGER WARNINGS ─ SUGGESTIVE THEMES [MADE BY A MINOR!], Unhealthy Coping Mechanism, Abusement of Power, and Unhealthy Thinking

[♡]ー ꒱・！demon prosecutor himself with a strong sense of justice - MILES EDGWORTH.

Miles kisses are forward yet slow. Miles wants to be the one leading about almost everything, like in court or in investigations yet when it comes to leading for your love he’s an absolutely flustered man. Yet he can’t resist you the many years devoid of love from Miles made him yearn something that you have managed to fill in for him, but that story is for another time. His kisses are deep but quick so nobody would notice, but in his private chambers such indulges will be much more longer, lingering touch on your face as his lips complete yours his hands hold you tightly not wanting to let you go. Such a beautiful love story but only if anyone can see the cold chains he has on you.

[♡]ー ꒱・！the prosecutor prodigy herself with her signature whip - FRANZISKA VON KARMA.

For a prodigy lady herself—Franziska-too like her brother doesn’t know how to initiate such contact and the turmoil she has with herself will reflect when it comes to you. Franziska’s kisses are quick and rough like her whip. Her feelings towards you cause some sort of concoction inside of herself, she’s angry at herself for falling in-love when she want to reach her highest, angry at herself because she knows that this isn’t what love is. So please don’t be alarmed when you suddenly got grabbed by your collar by Franziska for a kiss, she’s not angry at you, she angry at herself after she wrongly prosecuted someone who did you wrong yet. . .she felt like she was “correct” when doing so. . .

[♡]ー ꒱・！the well disciplined head chief prosecutor and a mature lady - LANA SKYE.

Lana Skye what a woman indeed but for a lover is what you may not need. Her clacking heels will be put on a stop to reach your height for a quick but meaningful kiss, a kiss that will leave a pink lip mark on your cheek. Lana never tells her relationship out loud she knows her position but whenever another prosecutor tries to hit on you whenever you visit her, Lana has to stop herself from deeply clawing her fist up hands until blood starts leaking of of her tense clench. What can we say about Lana, she’s the mature one in the relationship so why can’t you just trust her with everything in your life?

[♡]ー ꒱・！the mysterious coffee-loving prosecutor with a deep grudge - “GODOT.”

The aroma from his green vest, and the aftertaste of the strong coffee on his lips yet your lips are the most addicting then the most strongest coffee he had ever taste in his life and “after”-life. Godot’s kisses are slow, sensual and teasing yet like the coffee he makes there’s always something deeper and complex than what it seems. Godot’s kisses are teasing alright, but there’s a possessive grip on your waist when he does, his touches are always like he doesn’t want to let go of you, each exploration of your lips for him makes him more addicted more then ever. Instead of a caffeine overdose he’ll be craving for your lips, with his hands wandering around you, he would gladly kiss your poisoned lips even if he knows what’s in it.

[♡]ー ꒱・！the flamboyant rockstar prosecutor who sticks to his morals - KLAVIER GAVIN.

The flashing lights in his concert that goes on par with the neon colours, yet not even with all of lights flashing in his eyes and music blasting through his ears and eyes could distract him—Klavier has eyes only for you. Teasing and quick are Klavier’s kiss for you, as a pop star and a prosecutor he doesn’t really have much free time, but to make up for it he would always invite you at his concert at the backstage, once he’s done preforming he would kiss your euphony lips, as his strong cologne and his sweat fills your senses, as his arms wraps around your skin wanting to preserve the moment, may it be the adrenaline in his veins but he’d pull you into the second phase of the concert and proudly proclaim your status of being his significant other, as he deepen the kiss again. Such action would make sure that you won’t leave him especially when you have the prying eyes of the public.

[♡]ー ꒱・！the intimidating black and white twisted samurai - SIMON BLACKQUILL.

His rough and calloused hands gently holds your bottom lips for permission, as his lips moves towards your, his muscular build leans towards yours like you’re his only pillar in life. Simon knows that his hands aren’t made for loving, there were made only for protecting and yet a different kind of story unfolds when you’re both in alone with silence, his lips chapped yet his kisses are slow and rough, like an inmate ravaging his last meal but in fact he’s just not experienced at this—you’re his first and last when it comes to these parts in life. His kisses are meant to show love but his hands are meant to have crimson seeping blood on it but only just for you.

[♡]ー ꒱・！holy and enchanting yet sharp in his own ways - NAHYUTA SAHDMADHI.

Elegant and grace but like a midnight wave one mistake shall send someone to the grave. A motto that embodies the ‘Khura'in Prince’ Nahyuta. His pious nature makes every head turn towards him yet when it comes to you-it’s you who are his deity. The softness of the silk robe that Nahyuta wears is nothing compared to his lips, oh how plum and luscious it is, his words towards you are sweet like cake but like cake it has layers, the layers you may ask? Layers of manipulation spewing out of his butterfly lips. That’s why his kisses are soft and velvety that hides a sinister intend. May the Holy Mother help you . . .

[♡]ー ꒱・！the wussy and crying but growing young prosecutor - SEBASTIAN DEBESTE/EUSTACE WINNER.

The soft sob that resonates with the room as his salty tears run down his cheeks. Sebastian is an absolute mess to everything in his life but an absolute disaster when he sees you looking at him. Soft kisses are a need for Sebastian after the lack of love and validation he desperately wanted from other people, that’s why slowly caress his coffee-coloured hair as he gently weeps on your lap. The salty tears staining your clothes, please forgive him! He didn’t mean to yell at your best friend just because they needed you for a while!

[♡]ー ꒱・！the boot-rising, lip service, deadly prosecutor - BAROK VAN ZIEKS.

London’s harsh winter and the warmest season has none in common but for Barok it’s the same when he pulls you for a heavy and deprived kiss. His gloves are always on proper place when it comes to you, he desperately needs your touch, a deprived man till his core, his cold hands stays near you even near a fireplace — his hands wanders your collars and many more. His lips is as cold for how he kiss death, he knows that, but when he kisses you your lips is as warm and divine as the fire Prometheus gave to humanity it self, it warms the aching desire he has but only temporary. After you pull back he is wanting more from you. . . more and more.

[♡]ー ꒱・！the head of labyrinthia's order of knights - ZACHARIAS BARNHAM.

His firey hair is as matching as his passionate and deep kisses. Zacharias Barnham himself is a man of words and action, when he says he’d love you till the whole city is in blaze he means it. He is passionate about everything he cares about but you bring a different kind of passion inside him. His kisses is passionate and tender, as it is meant to be with you. His arms are warm and strong around an intention of never letting you go. He will give you everything that he is because he feels like his heart was carved out for you from the very beginning and nothing is going to ever take that away from him ever.

[♡]ー ꒱・！high inquisitor of labyrinthia with a firey ambition - “DARKLAW”

Her cold, gold, clawed hand holds your cheeks as Darklaw softly slammed her lips upon yours. Her role as the inquisitor means she only have few moments with you “few” because whenever she’s with you it feels like time is nothing for her, that’s why her kisses are rapid but un intentionally rough. Those witch trails do take a huge toll on her, so forgive her for accidentally bruising your lips after she just sent one of your friends into the infamous fire of Labyrinthia. That doesn’t matter now though, when her body still tenses from kissing and her heart thumps wildly within her chest, the way she leans into your warmth while her other hand slides up your arm and then cups your jaw in her palms, it doesn’t matter at all. You were always meant to be hers. She loves you so much, even if she was never supposed to fall for you. . .

[starkidlabs]

Being a casual fan of something is nice, I don't necessarily mean that in the sense of no creating art or no reading fanfics but more like not going into tags and basically avoiding every non mutual fan of the thing.

[huskymaine]

For favorite character ask- kakashi

Thanks for the ask anon!

Favorite thing about them

There are many things that I admire from Kakashi, by my favorite is his kindness. Many people wonder why Kakashi didn’t turn evil after everything he went through, but I think the answer is simple. He has no malice bone in his body. No matter what circumstance, he bore no hatred and genuinely tries to make everyone around him feel better. I spoke about it more on this post.

Least favorite thing about them

His self-deprecation, seriously Kakashi, stop blaming yourself on things outside your control. Also sometimes he was too apathetic to handle things that need his utmost concern. Although I understand why he’s like that.

Favorite line

"I will never let my comrades die." This line is so cool on our first watch, but so painful on our second watch. 

brOTP

I love both KakaGai and KakaYama, but can't choose one of them because they have different dynamic. KakaGai is like twin brothers whom equal in power and relationship, they genuinely like each other presence and mutually support each other. Also seems like they can feel when the other party is in distress and immediately rush to help. In KakaYama, I can find older sibling/younger sibling relationship in my family, with fondly teasing older sibling and exasperated but admiration from younger sibling. Tenzo’s status post-war made me bitter about this pairing for a while though (seriously why the fuck Tenzo got Orochimaru monitoring task?).

OTP

I don’t really like shipping in fandom (especially Naruto fandom), and I don’t see Kakashi as a type of person who have romantic relationship with anyone. I think Kakashi is asexual or at least demisexual. Maybe I’ll elaborate more about it on future post.

However *look at my ObiKaka fics subcription* I -ahem- really love their angst. And they're so messed up to the point of hilarity. It’s unhealthy at all and I will not wish it happen on canon, but it can’t be denied that Kakashi has intense feeling for Obito and vice versa. In fact, I enjoy so much the segment when Kakashi discovered that Tobi is Obito because it’s the first time the cool calm Kakashi getting completely thrown out and let out extreme emotion. Although Kakashi definitely didn’t have good time at all. I am quite a sadist haha.

(Note : in Boruto, Kakashi and Gai are married and I approve so much. It’s hard for me to imagine things like kiss or romantic gesture between them, though).

nOTP

I'm not fond of teacher/student relationship in general, but sometimes at least I can handle them in AU setting, kinda. Maybe. But, I can't handle MinaKaka at all in fics or explicit romance arts. Maybe because in my mind Minato is default Kushina's malewife, haha.

(Turns out I indeed can't handle Minato being paired with anyone except Kushina)

random headcanon

Kakashi found his deceased father’s body with lightning flash in his eyes and thunder roar ringing in his ears. He wouldn’t admit it even to Gai and Minato, but every time he sees lightning he remembers Sakumo’s suicide. Then he found out that his elemental affinity is lightning and he handled it just like Kakashi handles using Chidori post-Rin's suicide, a.k.a continuous trauma exposure. Btw Kakashi, your coping mechanism is the worst.

I sent it to @depressedhatakekakashi and it was made to an amazing short fic.

Unpopular opinion

Looks like this is unpopular opinion among Naruto fandom, which sadden me so much, but guys, Kakashi loves all of his students equally. When they are together, he paid attention to all of them and told them his observation. But Humain, why Kakashi only taught Sasuke pre-final Chuunin exam although Naruto also passed? Why Kakashi only taught Naruto in Shippuden and didn’t also teach Sakura? 

Because not only Kakashi is incapable of multitasking, both Sasuke and Naruto’s training require his utmost focused monitoring. Please remember that in Chidori training Sasuke had Curse Seal and in Rasenshuriken Naruto had Kyuubi Chakra. Both things are dangerous and undoubtedly will take over their bodies the minute those impatient hotheaded boys pushed themselves past their limit. With such a great risk, sadly Kakashi can’t afford to get his focus divided.

Song I associate with them

Uma to Shika by Yonezu Kenshi (I swear this song is like made for Kakashi).

Favorite picture of them

My fav picture of Kakashi is his crescent smile, but I dunno which one to choose and not turn this ask into full-blown compilation. So not picture, but this GIF is my fav Kakashi GIF. The maximum brat energy he emitted... *ruffles his hair fondly*

(Kishimoto-sensei, look at him. Look at the preciousness of him. Do you really capable to see this bouncy boy and then dumped all of the world's suffering on him? Smh)

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 13

WC: 1200

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: angst, anxiety, truth hurts, jealousy, hints at infidelity, mildly suggestive dialogue?, laszlo still doesn’t understand women

🧠

He wasn't sure where to go after he left you in his parlor. Laszlo never had a history of the best coping mechanisms, which is how he found himself meeting Karen, the last person he should've been seeing given the situation, at a bar downtown. But he would admit that he felt much calmer than earlier.

Laszlo was grateful that Karen had agreed to meet him on short notice. Not much was said in the first fifteen minutes or so. Eventually Laszlo broke the silence. “Karen,” his head cocks to the left, “might I ask you a question? Regarding my aide, since you appear to know her well.” He took a sip of the burning whisky.

Karen looks up at him where he sits next to her, “yes.” She hides her displeasure well.

“Recently, she has been acting strange. More melancholic and aggressive than is usual. She-” he searches for a way to mask the truth enough but still convey his question “-mentioned having relationship troubles. She expressed that she believed her significant other to be unfaithful. I was hoping that, as a woman yourself, you might have insight to this that I could offer her.” A beat passes. “To assuage her anxieties and improve her work ethic back to its full potential, of course,” he adds to appear pragmatic. He was hesitant to admit that he was really asking for himself.

“Oh I’m sure she will be fine, Laszlo,” she curls her fingers around his upper arm as a caring gesture. “Young women often deal with these things as they attempt to figure out what they want in life. At her age they are always so emotionally back-and-forth. She is likely trying to make decisions between her love life and her future as a career woman. To really find and establish her identity. In all honesty I have always seen her as too independent to settle down seriously with a partner. I would not find it a shock if she was considering breaking the relationship off. Time will tell.” Her answer is easy, almost practiced.

He gives a small grunt at her advice. He sincerely hoped that you weren’t reconsidering your relationship with him. Laszlo knew that he shouldn’t be asking Karen about you, but who else could he trust? She had always given him sound professional advice in the past. Seeing that Karen was waiting for a response he diplomatically states “I’m not sure that will be sufficient advice to offer her, let alone coming from me. Perhaps you are right in that time will be what is required.” He works to keep his fear from showing in his features.

“Since we are on the topic,” Karen turns to face him. “Laszlo, I must admit I haven’t been entirely truthful with you the last few weeks.”

He looked up to meet her eyes across the bar. “How so?” Had you confided in Karen about something? It wouldn’t make sense, seeing as you held an unfounded grudge currently.

“When you left Munich I had told you that I agreed that a long-distance relationship of that sort wouldn’t be fruitful for either of us. At the time I believed it.”

Laszlo shifted back in his chair. His brow furrowed as his thoughts raced to make sense of what Karen was telling him. Had her beliefs changed? Had she regretted agreeing to end the relationship? At the time it had been a very civil, and frankly easy, conversation. Not wanting to misinterpret his own conclusions, he asks “and now?” He doesn’t notice her fingers still on his bicep.

Her head cocks to the side. “When you first left I had hoped you would ask me to join you. I also understood that it wasn’t of your nature to do so, and I couldn’t hold that against you. So when I was given the chance to bring my research back to the city I realized that it would bring me close to you. I thought that perhaps we could try again; pick up where we left off before you moved. Maybe I even stay.”

His expression remains unchanged as he mulls over her confession. She had regretted the mutual split. Laszlo can feel the annoyance bubble in him instantly. He feels regret at shutting you down earlier when you had been correct all along. He knows his first words should be to defend you, to defend your relationship. What instead leaves him is “why did you not bring this to my attention sooner? Had I known then things might have been different. And yet you waited years to tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure it was a commitment you were prepared for. With time it became harder to admit.”

“Says you, the woman who knows no boundary to what is or is not appropriate to confess. You’ve made your life’s work on asking about and admitting the taboos of our human existence. I hardly think that your desire to remain coupled would be that difficult to explain to me.” His raising voice attracts the attention of some patrons nearby. He pays no mind to their curious glances.

Karen sighs. “Laszlo, please. We both know how fickle you were with these things back then. We only ever saw each other on weekends because of the distance to start with. I once suggested that you come to work at the institute so that we could be closer and you dismissed the idea. I'm sure even you can imagine that in hindsight as enough to deter me.”

His jaw clenches; he knows that she has a valid point. He was not the most pleasant or sociable at times. In truth he isn’t sure what he would have said if she had been honest from the start. “I suppose,” he breathes in deeply to calm himself, “that you had good reason to be cautious regarding this. But it has been years, Karen. You must be made aware that I have met someone; I am engaged in a serious relationship. I am happy.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that new development.” She looks away for a second, a flash of bitter in her eyes before it quickly vanishes. Laszlo is confused as to how she would know, as he had never disclosed having a significant other explicitly in her presence. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Her hand moves down to cover his own on the bar’s surface. “But my dear, we have such a history together. Think of how good things were between us. She is too young for you. A student no less! I know you, surely, better than she ever could. I know the things you need. I can give that to you and more.” Her whispered words are impassioned. He jerks back at the feel of her palm meeting his cheek.

Laszlo carefully and quickly retreats his hand from under her grasp. “I can assure you that I only view our relationship now as one between colleagues. Nothing more. I apologize if I gave you the impression otherwise. Have a good evening, Dr. Stratton.” With that he steps out of the bar and into the cold night air. He needed to find you.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s

[allisondraste]

Death and Other Things That Should Have Been Fatal

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4715

Summary: A follow up to Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep Living, Shepard wakes up after destroying the Reapers and copes with the fallout. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do so alone.

[Click Here for AO3]

“Shepard?”

The voice was little more than static in her ear, jarring her back into excruciating consciousness, head throbbing, extremities numb.  Spears of pain coursed through her chest with each and every breath, and she didn’t know whether it was the several broken ribs or the sight of Anderson's lifeless body slouched next to her.  She tore her gaze away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a good father figure, eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to focus only on the person speaking to her.

“Garrus?”  His was the first name that rolled off her tongue, the only person in the galaxy she wanted that disembodied voice to be.

“No.” Came the stern reply.  There was a long pause as any hope for comfort in her final moments came crashing down around her.  Then the voice spoke again. “It’s Hackett.”

A jolt of resentment toward the Admiral coursed through her at his introduction.  What more could he possibly want from her?  Had she not already done enough, sacrificed enough for just a ghost of a chance to stop the reapers.  Surely someone else could take it from there.  Why did everything fall on her?

Because someone else would have gotten it wrong.

She shook herself out of her head and back to the present. She would have been mortified under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn now. “I apologize sir, I’m— What do you need me to do?”

“The Crucible is docked, but is not activated,” he explained, “We think there’s something that needs to be done on your end.  Is there a trigger? Some sort of terminal?”

His words clung to the air around her, and her eyes locked onto the terminal the Illusive Man had used earlier.  It was just a few feet in front of her and still so far away. She tried and failed to bring herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her and sending her plummeting to the floor.  Hot tears burned in her eyes as a new array of pain shot through her body, and she groaned in agony.

“Shepard?”

“I’m here, sir,” she growled, forcing herself up onto an elbow and dragging her body to the terminal, vision beginning to blur at the corners.. Not yet , she pleaded with her consciousness as she reached up toward the terminal, hand sweeping clumsily across the haptic display. Not. Yet.   “I’m at the terminal but I… I don’t— I can’t find—”

Her vision went dark, supporting arm trembling and giving out as her consciousness faded.  Hackett’s voice called out to her repeatedly, further and further away until it was gone entirely.

She awoke to bright, burning light, buzzing in her ears, sensations anyone else would have associated with death.  But Shepard had been dead before, and this was nothing like the last time.  She’d never forget that dark, quiet empty.

“Shepard,” shouted a voice, both familiar and foreign, “Wake up.”

“What?” Blood dripped into her eyes from a wound she couldn’t feel. “Where am I?”

She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand, blinking until her vision cleared.  Her body screamed in protest as she rose to her knees, louder still as she brought herself to her feet and searched for who—or what— had spoken to her.

“The Citadel,” came the reply, “It is my home.”

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, it’s owner a glowing, translucent entity in the shape of a ghost.  Her heart slammed against her aching ribs, and a name rushed to her mouth before she could stop it. “Kaidan?”

The entity examined her for a moment that felt more like an eternity, long enough for her initial relief to fade, consumed by dread as she awaited its answer.

“No,” it stated in a cold, matter-of-fact way Kaidan could never have managed, “I am the Catalyst.”

Rage ignited in her stomach and chest at the sound of him twisted and distorted by a chorus of synthetic echoes, and she growled. “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is part of me,” it explained, then paused, tilting its head in examination of her again, “My appearance disturbs you.”

Shepard let out a derisive snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I apologize,” it said, “I chose a form that I believed would help us communicate. You had fond memories of this one.”

“Too fond.”  She looked down, unable to meet its vacant eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Is this one more suitable?”  It’s voice shifted registers and when she glanced up Thane stood before her.

Hot tears burned in her eyes but she held them back and shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps you would prefer this?” This time it’s tone was higher pitched, clipped.  Mordin.

“No,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’d prefer if you’d just pick a nightmare and tell me whether you can help me or not. ”

“Very well,” it said, Kaidan once again as it motioned for her to follow after it toward the beam of light before them. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

She limped after it, listening as it spoke, as it explained its creation, it’s function, the purpose for its very existence.  It was nothing the Leviathan had not already revealed to her, but spun in a way that painted the Reapers as innocent pawns simply fulfilling their duty, wiping out entire civilizations to ensure galactic balance, to protect organic life from its own chaos.

Bullshit , she thought as flashes of destruction played behind her eyelids with each laborious blink.  She remembered the sinking void in her gut as she fled Earth, watching it burn beneath Reaper hands.  She thought of Palaven, the harrowed Turian faces as their military and government collapsed, the anger and disbelief that vibrated in Garrus’ voice and beneath his skin. She recalled Thessia, the most advanced civilization in the galaxy reduced to rubble before her eyes and she, helpless to even salvage one artifact, Liara’s anguished sobs as she trembled in her arms.

The Catalyst and its Reapers were responsible for every lost colony in Batarian space that Shepard had shouldered instead.  Every single face on the memorial wall at the Citadel, every orphaned child and refugee, every life touched by this goddamn war, and the lives of those in every cycle that came before— it was all their fault.  They had corrupted and indoctrinated some of the greatest minds of her time, broken some of the strongest wills.  She wondered what had been said to convince Saren and Benezia. What had the Catalyst become to take hold of The Illusive Man?

The echoes of Sovereign’s boasts of supremacy and Harbinger’s threats of annihilation rang out in her ears as clear as the days they’d been spoken. And this entity, this artificial intelligence with the power and capability to stop it all, expected her to believe they were simply creatures bound to a purpose. The Catalyst truly believed she would help it achieve its pinnacle of evolution.

No, just because it was in a shark’s nature to eat her, did not mean she would allow it to do so. Despite the original intent behind their creations, the Reapers were monsters, and they had to be stopped. The galaxy deserved justice. She took one lumbering step toward the trigger on the right, one step closer to settling things once and for all.

“It will happen again,” the Catalyst called after her, “Machines will be rebuilt, and chaos will continue. Organics and synthetics cannot coexist separately.

“That’s…not true,” she grunted, and took another step, “The geth and the quarians have brokered peace.”

“It will not last.”

“You don’t know that,” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides, “The beauty of chaos is that you can’t know that.”

The entity fell silent, briefly considering what she said, then continued. “Perhaps not; however if you choose to destroy the Reapers, the geth will be destroyed as well. The two will not have the opportunity to disprove your hypothesis.”

A pang of guilt pierced her and she halted in her tracks.“All of them?”

“Yes.  The Crucible’s beam is powerful but unfocused.  It will be unable to distinguish between Reaper technology and other forms of synthetic life.”

Another pang of guilt as realization dawned on her. That meant EDI would die, too. Someone who was every bit a friend and member of her crew as anyone else, someone who had put herself on the line multiple times to protect Shepard, to make certain she could get the job done.  EDI, who confessed just before the battle that she finally felt alive. Now, Shepard was forced to weigh her newfound life and the newfound intelligence of the geth race, against the destruction of the Reapers.

What was it Garrus had called it? Ruthless calculus, that brutal math that awaited anyone who spent enough time at war.  Shepard had done plenty of those calculations, had made more than her fair share of difficult decisions, and she’d dealt with the consequences, good and bad.

This time, it was different, more final.  And she was entirely alone.  The future of the galaxy lay upon her weary back, and she was far past the point of compromise.

Shepard wanted the Reapers to pay for what they had done for millennia, wanted to watch them disintegrate in space as the cheers of her fleet rang out over the comms.  She wanted to know with certainty that the war was over.

More than anything, however, and most heavy on her mind,  she wanted to survive. It was a potent wave of selfishness that overwhelmed her as she thought of her friends back on the Normandy, of the relationships she’d forged and that had forged her.  Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing their voices. She was sick at the possibility that her last moments with those who had carried her through every storm were hurried and spent in a war torn camp on Earth.

Knowing that they were worried and waiting for her to return, remembering Garrus’ desperate plea that she come back alive, it was more than she needed to motivate her to do so.  For the first time in her three decades of life, she had something to go home to. She had given so much of herself to save the galaxy, and she had more than earned the right to live in it.

There was no certainty that destroying the Reapers would ensure her survival, but it was the only choice without the certainty that she would die.  She was willing to take her chances. She had to. With a trembling arm she raised her pistol, aimed at the glass case guarding the trigger mechanism, and fired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the glass shattered and her vision faded to white. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard had been dead enough times to know that sound always came first, the discomforting beeping of medical equipment and garbled chatter ringing out in the darkness as her nervous system attempted to orient itself. Smell and taste came next, a package deal.  This time the antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood barely masked the rank of burnt flesh.

Then the pain set in, dull but constant and everywhere, numbed only slightly by neural blockers and local anesthetic.  She did not need to see her injuries to know how serious they were, how fatal they should have been.  Yet there she lay, once again waking up from something that would have killed anyone else.

And she was alone.  Again.

She began to panic as her eyes opened to the empty, sterile room, setting off the many monitors she was hooked up to.  Her heart pounded violently, each breath she took sharp and shallow as she yanked herself free from the dozens of tubes and IVs constraining her. How long had she been out this time? What covert operation for which secret, extremist organization had found and resurrected her for their benefit? How much more could one galaxy ask of her?

There was a hiss of opening doors and an unfamiliar asari entered the room urgently, arms extended out in front of her.  In one breath she reassured Shepard that everything was going to be all right  and in the next called for a medical restraint, a sedative.  She stepped slowly toward Shepard as one would approach a frightened, feral animal, and two more uniformed aliens entered the room.  Shepard stood tall, despite the ache in her bones and glared at the three of them.

“Ma’am, I know you must be very disoriented right now, and I am happy to answer any and all of your questions,” the asari said, holding her hands up, “But you are in no shape to be out of bed.  I need you to calm down before you hurt yourself further.”

Shepard glanced from the asari to the two salarians on either side of her.  They all wore generic attire that was standard for medical professionals across the galaxy, but their uniforms had no indication of their names or who they worked for.  She crossed her arms and winced through the pain as she argued. “How about you start by telling me where I am, then I’ll decide if I want to calm down or not.”

Just as she finished speaking the doors opened again, this time to faces she knew, and the subsequent wave of relief that washed over her nearly knocked her back into the bed on it’s own.  On the right stood Dr. Michel, who she remembered helping out on several occasions during the Reaper War.  A bit sweet on Garrus, if she remembered correctly. On the left, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow, was none other than Miranda Lawson.

“Sit down, Shepard,” Miranda asserted in her trademark tone.  She flashed the hint of a smile and continued, “The residents aren’t being paid enough for you to harass them.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to the three aliens who’d been tending to her just moments before.  They were now speaking nervously with the doctor, who muttered something about tests they needed to run followed by some other medical jargon that Shepard couldn’t decipher.  She did as her friend directed and eased herself back down onto her bed, offering a sheepish grin as she did so. “I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Michel chimed in as she approached the bed, and began to scan Shepard with her omni-tool, “You have been in a coma for almost a month.  It was expected that you would be agitated when you awoke, especially considering everything you’ve been through.”

Shepard’s chest swelled with something like gratitude.  A month .  She’d only been out for a month, and she had woken up in what she could now tell was Huerta Memorial under the care of a physician she trusted and one of her closest friends.  This was nothing like the last time she died. She looked up at Miranda and asked,“Had to put me back together again, I see?”

“I only helped this time,” Miranda explained as she worked to reconnect some of the IVs Shepard had ripped out, “Dr. Michel contacted me a few weeks ago for a consultation about your cybernetic augmentation.  I was already on the Citadel, so I came in person to oversee the repairs.”

“Is everything working?”

“Mostly,” Miranda shrugged, “Not quite up to specifications, but your injuries are still healing. With time, you should be fine.”

“And hopefully far away from any more life-threatening battles, yes,” remarked Michel, moving to a terminal near the wall and transferring data collected from her omni-tool scans.

Shepard let out a huff, and let herself recline onto the bed, walls crumbling away at the comforting conversation.  She took a breath and let her eyes flutter closed for just a minute, and said, “If I can. If the galaxy will let me.”

“The galaxy’s going to have to,” announced an unmistakable voice from the door, and Shepard bolted upright to face it.  To face him .

She hadn’t even heard the door open, and yet there stood her turian, with all that easy confidence he’d always carried himself with and a bouquet of indistinguishable gift shop flowers in each hand.  Her pulse jumped, a fact the vitals monitor in the corner was quick to inform her and everyone in the room about. She would never live that one down.

“Garrus!”

“Is that cardiac arrest—“ he motioned toward the screen with one of the bouquets— “Or, uh… are you just happy to see me?”

Shepard just rolled her eyes, unable to stop the grin that twitched at the corners of her mouth as he sauntered up to the bedside.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like better,” Garrus explained, glancing with uncertainty between the flowers in each hand, “So I got both.  There’s also some chocolate and a few books of hanar poetry back at the gift shop if you just absolutely hate the flowers. I can run back down and—“

She laughed and shook her head at him. “They’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He examined each bouquet again.  “You might need the poetry to bore you back into a coma.”

“I thought that anthology was quite beautiful and romantic, myself,” Michel remarked, amused.  She approached Shepard again and administered something that relieved the throbbing pain in her head she’d barely noticed in all the commotion. “There, that should keep you comfortable for a time. I will come and check on you in a  few hours ”

“I’ll be going as well,” Miranda said, eyeing Shepard and Garrus knowingly. “Call me if you need anything.”

She turned to follow the doctor out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Shepard?  I’m glad we got to see each other again “

Shepard nodded. “So am I.”

With that Miranda left the room, the door sliding shut behind her.  Shepard turned her gaze up to Garrus who was already looking at her, pale eyes scanning every inch of her face intently.  His mandibles twitched and flared in the very specific way they always did when he was agitated or worried.  He shook his head, discarded both bundles of flowers onto the nearby bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, staring off at the wall in silence.

“Shepard I— I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said finally, turning to look at her and placing a hand on her leg, “I’d just gone to get some air…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching for his hand and wondering just how many sleepless hours he’d sat by her bed waiting for her to come to. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, lingering there for several long moments.  She brought a hand up to trace the rough ridges of scarring along the right side of his face.  His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and he let out a heavy sigh, as if she’d lifted some invisible weight off of him with just the tips of her fingers.

“You know,” she spoke up, breaking the powerful silence between them, “I think I finally have some scars that’ll give you a run for your credits.”

Garrus laughed, but it was quiet—almost sad— and he pulled back to examine her.

“How bad is it,” she asked, “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”

He laughed again, this time with more enthusiasm. “Hell, Shepard, I don’t know. You always were ugly, so it’s hard for me to say.”

“Okay,” she admitted with a smirk, “I had that one coming.”

The room went quiet again, with the exception of the buzzing and whirring of the equipment around them.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, though— nothing had ever been uncomfortable with Garrus— but it was heavy with unspoken pain and unasked questions for which Shepard wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

“How’s everyone else,” she ventured.

“Recovering,” he answered with a sigh, “Joker tried to outrun the blast, but even the Normandy wasn’t quick enough.  Crash landed on some human colony world. Everyone made it except—“

“EDI,” she said, name bitter on her tongue. She’d hoped the catalyst had been lying about the Crucible’s effect on synthetic life.

“Yes… how did you—“

This time, she was not able to dam up the wave of emotions that crashed into her.  Tears rushed to her eyes, shame and remorse tightening her chest like a vice. She was a soldier, and she knew that sacrifices won wars, but that did not make it any easier.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sniff, looking away from him and attempting to wipe away the tears before he could see them, as if he hadn’t already.

“Well—” Garrus reached out and grabbed her chin, gently, giving it a tug until she brought her gaze back to him. “It’s a good thing I cleared my afternoon schedule, then. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. With a shaky voice, she recounted everything that happened from the time she called the evac for Garrus and Liara to the moment she was struck by the Crucible’s blast.  She told him about The Illusive Man, Anderson, the Catalyst who wore Kaidan’s face, and the impossible choice she was given.  He listened to every word, offered her his hand, and didn’t complain as her grip grew tighter and tighter with each devastating revelation.

When she was finished, eyes swollen and head throbbing, she looked at him and said, “I fucked up, Garrus. I had a chance to save EDI and the geth, but I just… couldn’t do it.  I was so angry and… scared , and—“

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted her, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re about the only person I know who could save the whole damn galaxy and feel guilty because you didn’t save it better.”

“My life isn’t worth more than EDI’s was, and it definitely isn’t more important than the entire geth race,” Shepard argued.

Garrus blinked back at her a few times, then responded.  “It is to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come, so she clamped it shut and frowned.  Her entire argument fell apart in the wake of his blunt confession. How the hell was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“It was selfish,” she finally managed past the lump in her throat, “It was genocide.”

“Maybe,” he answered, firmly, “Maybe not. We have no way of knowing that anything the Catalyst told you was true.”

“Why would it lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to save it’s own ass?”  His words were pointed but not directed to her.  “It was clearly trying to get in your head, Shepard, using Alenko like that.”

“But—”

“No,” he snapped, “You made the right call, and no one is going to fault you for it except you.”

“ Garrus …” she began, but trailed off when she noticed him looking down at their intertwined fingers, shaking his head and seeming to struggle with his emotions.

When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse.  “You’ll forgive me if I say I don’t think you owe anyone—not EDI, not the geth, not the Alliance, not the rest of the galaxy— any more than you’ve already given.”

He paused for a beat, then added in a lighter tone, “Except me. You owe me a long retirement on your fancy Alliance pension.”

Shepard snorted out a laugh, despite everything, and reached up to take his face in her hands.  She pulled him closer to her, just so that she could press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

Just as they pulled apart, the door opened and they both turned to see who had entered. Dr. Michel stood at the threshold smiling at them apologetically.  “I am sorry for the interruption, but—”

“Someone tell Garrus to quit hogging the Commander,” complained an all too familiar voice as he pushed past the doctor and into the room. “The rest of us have been waiting just as long as he has.”

“Joker,” Shepard exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of the bed to greet him.

“The one and only,” he said proudly then held up a small plastic crate to show her, “And I brought you something.  Basically had to wrestle the Alliance brass for it when they declared you dead.”

“What—,” she asked as she squinted at the box, noticing movement in the corner, “Is that my hamster?”

He sat the container down carefully on the table next to the flowers Garrus had tossed aside,  “It’s not two bouquets of useless flowers or anything, but, well…you know.”

“We can’t all be as romantic as you,” Garrus said sarcastically as he stood up and stepped away from the bed, allowing the other man space to approach Shepard.

“Thank you, Joker,” Shepard said with a nod as she sat up in the bed, “And about EDI, I—“

He cut her off with the shake of his head, clearly not ready to discuss it. “Not your fault, Commander.”

Shepard just nodded, sorry, but not wanting to force the issue.  Joker puffed his chest out and saluted her, just as more commotion rang out from the door.  She darted her eyes across the room again to see the flood of other people pouring in from the hallway.

Ash was the first to rush to the bedside, throwing appropriate Alliance protocol out the window as she threw her arms unceremoniously around Shepard.  The embrace was firm, but not so forceful that it caused her aching body any extra pain, and when Ash pulled away, Shepard could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She stiffened up and saluted just as Joker had done, and said “Ma’am.”

Much to Shepard’s surprise, Ash then approached Garrus and embraced him briefly as well, pulling away and then giving him a pat on the arm.

The others followed suit after that, offering words of gratitude that she had saved the galaxy, and relief that she’d managed to pull through.  Tali and Liara had followed Ash’s example and hugged her.  The others didn’t but greeted her with enthusiasm all the same.  Vega mentioned how “epic” it was when the fleet realized she’d made it to the Citadel and got the arms opened while Traynor and Cortez nodded along.  Javik, in his typical fashion stood quietly in the corner but nodded at her with a look of admiration she had yet to see from the Prothean.  Dr. Chakwas and the crew from engineering squeezed themselves in the now cramped space as well. Chakwas approached the bed and gave Shepard’s hand a firm squeeze.

Humbling was not a strong enough word to describe the experience of seeing everyone who’d been on the Normandy with her in that final journey to Earth gathered around celebrating her survival.  They had all meant so much to her, and only now did she realize that she’d meant the same to them.

She’d grown accustomed to being a sole survivor, watching her own back and carrying on alone with each of her mistakes strapped to her shoulders.  She was used to blaming herself with the voices of those she lost, of nightmares and flashbacks and consoling herself back to sleep in the middle of the night.  She had trained herself to be numb because she could not bear feeling guilty.

Now, she didn’t have to.  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had people who cared about her, people who she trusted, and they had survived. For the first time, she wasn’t alone with her grief and she didn’t have to be numb.  She had friends who would hold her together while she sorted herself out, just as she had done for each and every one of them.

“You okay,” Garrus asked as he approached the bedside again, letting a hand tousle her hair gently before falling to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nodded and glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in. “I really actually am.”

[lalahbug]

Guidance - Zuko x Reader Chapter 6

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender Word Count: 3,232 My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: General 18+ Angst

Author’s Note: under story ___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut, 6 of 8, Guidance Masterlist

        A few weeks had passed, ___ was healed and quickly became the new mother figure of the group. Teaching about survival, chi blocking, and helping with most of the chores. Of course, she also played with the group and lectured them like a mother as well.

        ___ and Aang were meditating together, during a sunrise, which Aang wasn’t too happy about after being up most of the night traveling. Aang peaked at her as she exhaled deeply, relaxing further, still keeping her posture. 

        “Staring at me isn’t going to help your mediating, Avatar.”

        “You didn’t even open your eyes; how did you know?” He pouted but started meditating again.

        “Your breathing went normal instead of trained.”

        “How do you do that?”

        “Do what?”

        “Hear so well, know when I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do.”

        “I’ve had heightened senses for a long time. But as for knowing when you’re doing something, we’ll chalk it up to Mother Instinct.” She chuckled softly. “You’re really not in the mood to meditate, are you?”

        “No!” Aang groaned before falling backward.

        “Okay, practice your breathing with me for a bit then I’ll let you go.”

        “Okay!” Aang agreed with a smile while sitting up. 

        Aang and Katara were practicing some waterbending, while ___ watched their movements.

        “Why don’t you come join us? Aang could use the opportunity to fend off two waterbending foes.” Katara smiled and splashed some water at Aang.

        “Thank you, but I don’t know many waterbending moves, I’d be an easy target. I can only whip water and create waves.”

        “That’s right, being from the North Pole, they never taught you. But didn’t you learn on your own?”

        “I only got the water whip and the wave, that’s all I learned on my own.”

        “Why didn’t you say anything? We could have taught you.” Aang urged.

        “I’ve never been a good waterbender, there’s no point in teaching me. I’m an average healer and I can do pretty movements with a full moon, but that’s it. My strength is chi blocking and fast reflexes.”

        “Well, I think you could be a good waterbender. Why don’t you practice with us? You can learn some new moves and there is no pressure if you can’t do it well. Because like you said, your strength is chi blocking.” Katara urged, ___ shrugged before disrobing a bit, and getting into the water with the two masters.

        One day before the invasion, The Day of Black Sun, and Aang wasn’t able to sleep. ___ was up with him, just after sunset.

        “You can’t stay awake before the invasion. You need to be rested. But I think if you’re alone, it’ll be worse. So, would you like to go over the chakras to help you with the Avatar State?”

        “I think I know them; I just can’t do the last one.”

        “Ah, you mean the Thought Chakra? Is it because of Katara?”

        Aang blushed a bit before sighing. “Yes, but also, I don’t know how to let go of Earthly attachments when I have to protect them.”

        “The Avatar is bound to this earth to protect it. You must learn to balance these or they will be your downfall. You let Katara go completely at Ba Sing Se, you were then attached to cosmic, too attached to cosmic energy. As the Avatar, you must find balance with your cosmic energy and your Earthly attachments. You can open the Thought Chakra, by learning to balance your attachments. Earthly, Avatar, cosmic, love, spirit, and even your nomad teachings.”

        “What about my nomad teachings?”

        “There will be a day where you might have to sacrifice your beliefs for the greater good, to keep balance in the world. But because of your teachings, I know you’ll find a way to balance the good with your morals.”

        “You’re talking about the Fire Lord, aren’t you?” Aang curled up and placed his weary head on his knees.

        ___ smiled at him gently, examining the bags under his eyes. “You can face him, you can beat him, we all believe in you, especially as he is powerless during the eclipse. But, what if, you can’t get to him in time. Don’t get me wrong, Sokka’s plan is amazing. Things don’t always go as planned. If you can’t get to him in time, you will have to fight him someday. How will you restrain him? Or will you have to take his life? I worry about the outcome of this plan a lot. From my talks with Roku to how devious the Fire Nation is. I just hope you know, if this fails. It’s not your fault. There will be some other factor that makes it so you can’t get to him in time. I have no doubt about you facing him, just our timing.”

        “It’s terrifying to even think of facing Ozai, but hearing the faith you have in me helps. Hearing that you don’t expect me to defeat him tomorrow, really helps. But your question haunts me. How will I restrain him?”

        She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “I believe in you Aang, the world does. But in the end, you are just one kid, and you will need to listen to words of wisdom from your past lives. From ancient sources, and learn to bend life and energy itself if you are to defeat Ozai without taking his life.”

        “Bend life and energy? How do I do that?”

        “I’m not sure, I only read about it in the spirit library. You will have to hope that an ancient source shows you.”

        “Well, with you and the Spirit World to access, I think I’ll be able to find it if needed.”

        She smiled at him before meditating with him. She knew of the group's plan to make a bed for Aang so he could finally sleep, she was just keeping him company in the meantime.

        “___?” She hummed softly in reply, still meditating. “What if we see Zuko during the invasion? What will you do?” She opened her eyes, a sorrowful smile formed as their eyes met.

        “Depending on where he is in his journey, I’ll either have to disable him or listen to him.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “My first night in the Spirit World with Roku. He let me know of my future, to help me mentally prepare for it. He told me a beautiful tale of me falling in love, with his great-grandson. But he warned me, his great-grandson has the ability to be good or bad. As Roku and Sozin are both his great grandfathers.”

        Aang gasped, “Zuko’s mom is the granddaughter of Roku?”

        “Yes, that’s why he is at war within himself. Between his two natures. He also didn’t have the healthiest of families to help him cope with it either. His uncle, although wonderful, found his path in life a bit late. I hope Zuko will find that path one day too, but I can no longer be the one to guide him, he must find it himself. But only time will tell if he will find it soon or if he will live a long life trying to find it.”

        “Do you still love him?”

        Her eyes fell to her stomach and the bump there. “I do, but when he took another woman because I was unconscious for weeks, I feel as though maybe my love might have been blinded by the fairy tale Ruko told me. For he never mentioned a child. He only mentioned I would have to choose to forgive Zuko or not, and that it would be very difficult for me. I love him, but I'm not sure if I can forgive him just yet."

        "It must be hard, not knowing if he loves you or not, yet still having this child."

        "It hurts not knowing, but it's not too hard. I'm not worried for some reason, not when it comes to this baby."

        Aang had a flash of the small baby named Hope that Katara had helped deliver a few months back. "Babies are a beautiful thing, especially when you have someone to share it with."

        "Katara asked me to stay until the baby is born at the very minimum, so in a way I will, you guys are the closest thing I have to family right now. So, I'll share that experience with you."

        "So, I get to be an uncle?" He smiled.

        "You'll be the best uncle!" They giggled softly and she smiled at him fondly as the group approached them, ready to help Aang finally sleep. 

        After the invasion, Aang wanted nothing to do with the planning for the next steps, next attack. ___ shut herself away from the group and the others with them now. She should have been left behind with the other adults, but they wouldn’t hear her protest, since she was pregnant. 

        Walking along one of the many corridors of the Western Air Temple, she hummed softly to herself, enjoying her solitude, wanting to fix her mental state before joining everyone. No one needed a pouty pregnant woman around, all because they didn’t listen to her. They had her and the baby’s health in mind, they weren’t trying to make her feel more useless or weak. So; she needed to be alone to fix the brewing thoughts before they burnt anyone needlessly.

        She walked until she felt lost and sighed and started to head back to the group, for dinner. But when she arrived everyone was sulking and arguing about something.

        “What’s wrong?” ___ asked while getting some food after Sokka said something about not adding animal cruelty to the list.

        “I’ll tell you-” Katara started, ready to vent to someone else.

        “Wait,” Toph cut off Katara. "___ how would you feel, if Zuko came here asking for forgiveness and to teach Aang firebending?”

        She understood what had happened just from Toph’s question, her heart sped up, the broken pieces throbbing, she took a breath to reply. “Aang needs a firebending teacher, and Zuko, well he’s a good firebender. I don’t know how I feel about him asking for forgiveness, but if you thought he was sincere, Toph, I would let him stay. Because if you think he was sincere the whole time, it hopefully means he’s finally found the correct path.” She looked to Aang with a sad smile, reminding him of their conversation when he was so sleep-deprived.

        “How?” Katara asked softly. “How can you just allow him here? Forgive him and trust him? Especially after what he’s done to you?”

        “I don’t forgive him; I don’t trust him. But the options of firebending teachers are pretty limited to Aang. Only time can tell if he can earn trust and forgiveness from any of us. We have to look past ourselves. The world needs the Avatar, the world needs Aang to learn firebending. If we still can’t trust him after he’s with us and he’s taught Aang, then you can give him the boot and send him packing.”

        “I hate when mother is right,” Sokka grumbled.

        “I am not your mother,” ___ snapped. “I’m a friend. I’m tired of being treated like some soft pregnant woman with motherly love. I’m a fighter. My pregnancy doesn’t change that. I will only let motherly change take me when the world is no longer at war. I can’t soften and hold everyone’s hand through this. You’re all kids to me, but the world can’t have the Avatar, a master of waterbending, master of earthbending, and a sword master, be kids. You have to keep the goal in your mind.”

        “You’re still mad at us for making you come with us? Instead of letting you stay with the other adults, aren’t you?” Aang asked softly.

        “Yes.” She exhaled sharply before taking a deep breath. “But I know you did it because you care about me,” she rested a hand on her stomach. “About the baby. But you wanted me here, so I’m here. And I think you should listen to what Zuko has to say without emotion.”

        “All I know is that while he was talking to us, he was sincere. Maybe you’re all just letting your hurt feelings keep you from thinking clearly.” Toph said in agreement with ___.

        “Easy for you to say, you weren’t there when he had us attacked by pirates.” Katara spat.

        “Or when he burned down Kyoshi Island,” Sokka added.

        “Or when he tried to capture me at the fire temple.” Aang finished.

        “Why would you two even try to defend him?” Katara said so frustratedly she was shaking.

        “Because, Katara, you’re all ignoring one crucial fact. One ___ has already told you!” Toph stomped up to Aang and poked him in the chest. “Aang needs a firebending teacher! We can’t think of a single person in the world to do the job. Now one shows up on a silver platter and you won’t even think about it?” She shook the ground with a couple more stomps.

        “I’m not having Zuko as my teacher!” Aang walked away from ___ and Toph.

        “Aang-” ___ started before Sokka cut her off.

        “You’re darn right, you’re not buddy.” Sokka stood tall, finalizing his backup with Aang.

        “Well, I guess that’s settled,” Katara said smugly. ___ sighed before looking at Toph.

        “I’m beginning to wonder who’s really the blind one around here.” Toph stormed off, ___ followed behind her.

        Toph and ___ were walking through the forest, to find Zuko.

        “You didn’t have to come with me,” Toph sighed.

        “I know, but I would like to talk to Zuko too. I think I know him well enough to tell when he’s lying, whether you can detect it or not.”

        Toph giggled pointing to ___’s stomach, “I would hope you knew him well enough.”

        “Oh shush,” she pushed Toph playfully, but it was clear she was a bit exasperated by the comment.

        “Do you think Zuko would try to trick us all; like he did to you and Katara?”

        “Zuko didn’t trick me. I don’t think he meant to trick Katara either. I think he loved me in his own way. He was good in Ba Sing Se. But the allure of home was stronger than the good.”

        “But now that he’s here, you think the good called him back?”

        “I’m hoping that. I’m hoping he found his true destiny.”

        “I’m hoping you’re right,” Toph said with a sigh.

        While moving through the brush the women alerted Zuko.

        “Who’s there?” His voice was groggy, the sound of it stung ___’s heart. As they got closer, he yelled. “Stay back.”

        “It’s me!” Toph shouted back, but it was too late, Zuko had already lashed out fire in his fear, Toph even tried to make herself an earth shield. She fell as the flames licked the soles of her feet “Ow! You burned my feet!”

        Zuko was up and running towards her as she started to crawl away. “I’m sorry, it was a mistake!” He cried while chasing after Toph, but sudden strikes to his body made him collapse.

        “Get away, Zuko!” ___ shouted while scooping up Toph.

        “___?” He gasped, trying to sit up, she only chi blocked his right side. As she started to walk away, he called out to them. “No, please, come back! I’m sorry!” He tried to get up, but the weight of his right side would not shift and he fell back. He groaned along with his heart ache seeing ___ walk away and ignore his plea, his apology. “Why am I so bad at being good!” He cried to the sky, wishing to be able to rewind time.

        He’d go back so far if he could, but he pleaded now silently inside his head. “Please let me go back, even just 5 minutes.” He exhaled in defeat, wondering what the girls had wanted to say, but now he’d never know.

          Days passed and the threat of Combustion Man was gone, Hokada and Suki back. While sitting around the fire with everyone, Zuko served tea again, while he did so, he noticed ___ left the group. Excusing herself to go lie down. And the night where he burned Toph’s feet came to mind. She came with Toph, what did she want to say?

        After his failed joke and everyone had settled their laughter. “Does ___ leave the group often after dinner or is that because of me?” Zuko asked softly, silence rang afterward. Katara and Aang shared a soft look.

        “Before the invasion, I was restless, ___ was meditating with me. I asked how she would react if we were to run into you since, at the time, you were still an enemy, a threat.” Aang sipped his tea before continuing. “She simply said she'd either disable you or listen to you. She believed in you even then, she just wasn’t sure when you'd find your correct path in life.”

        “But when she thinks about you, hears your name, or even just briefly has a polite encounter with you. Her heart beats sickeningly. Like the broken pieces are trying to pull together.” Toph added since she was able to hear and feel ___’s heartbeat.

        “I want to explain myself, talk to her. But I want to do it alone.”

        “You should be thankful she even acknowledges you exist,” Katara spat, still angry.

        “I am, she’s always been forgiving. But I don’t know how forgiving she’ll be with me.”

        “___ still loves you,” Toph encouraged him.

        “But before we allowed you in the group, she did say only time would show if you deserved trust and forgiveness,” Sokka added, Suki elbowed him. “What? He should know the truth, the good and the bad.”

        “Thank you, that helps. Maybe she’s not ready to hear my apology, because she doesn’t forgive me or trust me yet.”

        “Make sense, you engaged her, impregnated her, broke your promise then left her for another woman because she was basically in a coma,” Katara stated with venom.

        “I never left her, but I was too cowardly to tell my father no to the arranged marriage. Scared to not be his perfect son again.”

        “Mai still seems to love you, since she helped with the prison break,” Sokka said.

        “Another heart I broke, by being a misleading person. She loves someone within me that I’m not. She doesn’t understand that I’m trying to save my country, my kingdom. The world fears and hates the Fire Nation. I need to try and heal that and help the Avatar bring balance back into the world.”

        “I think ___ just needs a little time, she was for having you here from the get-go with me,” Toph popped some more food in her mouth. “She’s just not ready to deal with you. Since she’s been having some health issues with the baby, every time we have stress, she gets sick.” Toph said sadly.

        “Well with the invasion being over, Combustion Man gone. Hopefully, things will calm down.” Katara said before standing up. “I should go check on her and the baby before we sleep.” She stood and left towards the way ___ had left earlier.

        Zuko sighed and sipped his tea. He would need to be patient a bit, wait for some alone time with his love, and keep an eye on her troubled health with the baby.

Author’s Note:

Hello, I know I’ve been gone for awhile, but I’m getting better mentally and personally. I can’t promise when the next chapter will come out, but I’m hoping by the end of May. 

I’d like to thank everyone that’s liked previous chapters and stayed with me on this. This is still my indulgence, anime fanfics, but after this series. I might go into show/movie fanfics (like Marvel and Supernatural), make a list of who I’d be willing to write for and open a for request for a bit. 

Also, for the one lovely who wanted to be added/tagged for new chapters, here you go; thank you for your love on this <3

@eridanuswave​

[aquaquadrant]

the little things

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

~*~

Ben’s been reunited with the other campers, and seems to have come out the other end of his experience stronger than ever before. But as he slowly finds his place back within the group, a bigger picture starts to emerge, piece by piece.

Rated T for: mental illness, mild language, panic attacks, PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, eating disorder (not in a traditional sense, but definitely not a healthy relationship with food)

A/N: Hey Camp Cretaceous fandom, y’all mind if I uhhhh write six-thousand words about Ben’s trauma?? Basically, Netflix kept recommending the show to me so I watched the first ep out of curiosity and then ended up binging the whole thing in like two days, and now here I am.

(Dear sweet, patient, regular readers of mine: I’m so sorry my main fic’s been delayed but I promise it’s getting updated next week, I just had to get some feelings out about Sad Dino Boy)

Hope you enjoy, please reblog and leave a comment if you do! - Aqua

Click here to read on A03 (with more complete tags)

~*~

the little things

~*~ 

Ben Pincus has returned from the dead, and he’s never been better.

The other campers are amazed. What he’s been through must have been horrible. He thought he was the only one left, that there was no one to help him and no hope of rescue because he was presumed dead. It would’ve been enough to drive anyone into despair, or off of the deep end.

But Ben shows no signs of this.

They didn’t find him holed up somewhere, near starvation and waiting to die, like one might’ve expected. They didn’t find him at all, really. He found them, and by coming to their rescue, no less. And when he did, he wasn’t a trembling mess, he wasn’t a half-mad ball of paranoia, and he wasn’t a hollow-eyed skeleton fueled solely by desperation. 

He’s an all new and improved Ben, the best version of himself.

He hasn’t just survived, he’s flourished. He’s brave, he’s confident, he’s capable. He gives his opinions freely and without second-guessing himself, suggesting things the old Ben would’ve recoiled at. He fits seamlessly into the team like he never left. He faces problems head-on with determination and grit and not a trace of fear.

The turnaround is unbelievable. But even more important is that while he’s a new and improved Ben, he’s retained all the best parts of his old self.

Ben is easy smiles and meticulous organization of a leather waist bag and doting affection for a four-ton armored lizard. He’s sensitive and soft-spoken and accepts hugs from his friends gratefully. He still can’t quite pull off coolness, with a voice that sounds as gangly as his limbs look and an awkwardness he hasn’t grown out of.

And it’s perhaps because of this that no one thinks to look closer. This image is an easy thing to accept because it’s what they all want to believe, that Ben is okay- in fact, better than okay. But the truth is not always big and obvious upon first glance.

It’s the little things, as they soon find out.

~*~

That first evening after Ben’s return, after Mitch and Tiff and everything else, they don’t eat dinner.

They all ate their fill at the campsite and, after a month of scarcity, it was more than enough to sate their appetites. It’s Darius who thinks to ask Ben if he’s hungry, remembering that the boy hadn’t had the chance to eat with them. They have a good stockpile of food at the moment and he figures Ben must’ve been struggling.

But Ben shakes his head with an easy smile, and says, “Nah, I ate earlier.”

Darius leaves it at that, because there’s still so much catching up to do. They show Ben around their clubhouse, make plans for where to build a bunk for him (he insists he’d be just fine sleeping on the ground next to Bumpy, but they all veto that immediately). They talk well into the night about the day’s crazy events, filling each other in on their own sides of the story, and everything that’s happened since Ben got separated.

There are some more tears, some more hugs. But ultimately, the mood in the clubhouse is ecstatic. They never thought Ben had survived the fall so to have him back is better than a dream come true, it’s a miracle.

Darius thought he knew what it was to experience a miracle when they first saw that bonfire smoke on the horizon. But if he had to chose between the miracle of them finally leaving the island or the miracle of getting Ben back, it’s not even a competition.

Eventually the exhaustion catches up with everyone, and they turn in for the night. Bumpy parks herself underneath the clubhouse, her presence incredibly reassuring. Ben ends up sharing Kenji’s bunk because it’s bigger than Darius’s even when occupied by two, and the older teen had insisted in a very faux-casual way, to which Ben had rolled his eyes but nonetheless seemed touched by the gesture.

Darius takes the first night watch shift and gets to see all his friends sleeping peacefully. And even though Tiff sailed away with their only means for escaping, he feels a lot more hopeful than he has in a long time.

~*~

It’s canned peaches for breakfast.

A far cry from yesterday’s buffet. But no one’s complaining because the meticulous rationing of their food, courtesy of Darius, means they’re all starving by meal time and couldn’t care less what it tastes like. Darius is in the process of separating the food out into bowls, half a can for each of them, when he realizes Ben has yet to take a seat. He’s lingering at the edge of the room, watching.

“Hey,” Darius calls, “you coming or what?”

Ben shakes his head. “Thanks, but I already got my own breakfast.”

Before Darius can respond, Brooklynn shoots Ben a look. “What? Where?” she demands. “You holding out on us, jungle boy?”

Darius shoots her a look, but Ben just gives an easy smile and unzips the leather pouch that’s reclaimed its spot around his waist. He withdraws a small handful of bright red berries, no bigger than blueberries. It’s not even a fraction of the half-can of peaches the rest of them are settling for, and Darius sees his own unease reflected in the others’ eyes.

Brooklynn glances away. “Oh. Um, sorry. You don’t… you can have some of ours, you know?”

“I’m good.” Ben tosses a couple berries into his mouth. “You guys go ahead, I’m gonna go check on Bumpy.”

“O- oh, okay…” Sammy murmurs, watching Ben go with uncertain eyes. “If you’re sure…”

They’re silent for a moment.

Kenji inhales quietly through his teeth. “So… that’s weird, right?”

Yaz leans forward in her seat. “What do you think, Darius?” she asks lowly.

Darius bites his lip. Even though dinosaurs are his specific topic of interest, he’s gained a lot of second-hand knowledge about general biology and psychology. After all, he has to understand the processes behind behavior in order to identify patterns and deviations.

And right now, he has to admit that Ben is displaying a very concerning behavior.

“I’ll talk to him,” Darius decides.

There’s a collective sigh of relief around the table, and the others start eating. It takes Darius longer than usual to finish his serving.

~*~

“So, uh, bottom line is… you don’t need to feel bad about eating our food. You’re as much a part of this group as anyone else, and we’re happy to share.”

After a couple tense days, Darius is finally talking to Ben about the food situation. Or rather, talking at him. Because Ben’s not looking at Darius- his eyes are tracking the small spider that’s crawling along the railing next to them. Normally, Darius would take it as a sign of boredom and inattentiveness. But there’s an intensity in Ben’s eye that’s a little unsettling-

Quick as a flash, Ben shoots out an arm. He crushes the spider under his thumb and swipes it into his mouth. And then, untroubled as can be, he returns his focus to Darius as if nothing had happened.

Darius has overheard Kenji teasing Ben about eating bugs, and Ben has admitted as much in the stories of his time alone. Berries and grubs were what he lived on. Darius, for one, can’t imagine being hungry and desperate enough to snatch a bug off the ground and eat it.

But it’s even harder to imagine having access to real food, good food, and still choosing to eat bugs.

“Don’t worry so much,” Ben says lightly, patting Darius on the shoulder as he turns to go. “I can take care of myself.”

That does it. “You can’t keep living off berries and grubs!” Darius finally snaps.

Ben whirls around. “Says who?”

“Basic human biology!” Darius retorts.

Ben glares at him, but there’s something shaky behind it. “Darius, I told you it’s fine,” he says evenly, though he doesn’t fully meet Darius’s gaze. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. Please? If I’m hungry, I’ll eat.”

Darius hesitates. “You promise?”

Ben breaks into an easy smile. “I promise.”

Darius sighs. It’ll have to be good enough, for now.

“Okay.”

~*~

Darius knows he isn’t the only one still concerned by Ben’s lack of appetite.

Right from the start, Ben was the scrawniest one among them, and it’s only gotten worse. But surely he’ll have to eat at some point, right? Basic survival instincts will win out over whatever stubborn mindset is holding him back. Plus, it’s clear that he’s got enough energy to run and climb and stuff with no problem.

Maybe it’s not as serious as Darius thinks. Maybe Ben just needs time.

~*~

Ben doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He just- he can’t take their food! Why don’t they get that?

And it’s not because he’s stubborn, it’s not- no matter what Darius thinks. There’s nothing wrong with letting others help you (as long as you don’t let it make you soft, of course). After all, he relies on Bumpy. He just… when he looks at the food, and imagines eating it, he just knows it’ll sit in his stomach. Like a rock, weighing him down.

Plus, plus, if he gets used to eating like that, it’ll just- it’ll be harder to cope once it runs out. He’s already gotten used to roughing it and it was hard enough the first time, he can’t let himself slip back into complacency. And- and really, how long do they think it’s going to last? They’ve searched all the previously inhabited areas of the island and there’s no more food for them to scavenge.

Do they think they’ll be rescued before it runs out? No one is coming to save them. They know it as much as Ben does- they wouldn’t be bothering with rafts if they didn’t. Do they think they’ll escape, then? Sure, because their current attempts have been going so well.

No, they just aren’t thinking long term. Ben is.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

~*~

It’s the sixth day in a row where Ben eats nothing but berries.

He wants to search around some more, see if there’s anything more substantial. That would require him to leave Bumpy, though. And he can’t leave Bumpy. But the hunger is excruciating. It gnaws at him every waking moment, keeps him up at night. He’s never felt such hunger in his life, not even close. He can’t keep going like this, can he?

But there’s nothing else.

Except… something’s crawling up his arm. Something small, and leggy. Ben turns his head, squinting to focus his eyes in the dark. It’s some kind of beetle, with a shiny shell that catches stray shafts of moonlight poking through the roof of his lean-to.

Ben stares at it for a moment. Then, before he can think, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. He barely registers any taste, mostly just the crunchy texture. And even though it wasn’t any bigger than a quarter, after he swallows, he feels… fuller. Even if it’s purely imagined, it’s a comfort.

Berries and grubs. It’ll have to be enough.

There’s nothing else.

~*~

Ben continues to decline their offers of food.

~*~

A few weeks after the reunion, Kenji is starting to get antsy.

As the self-designated ‘pro-fun police’ (a clever play on ‘no-fun police,’ if Kenji does say so himself), he’s made it his responsibility to make sure none of his friends just keel over and die from stress one day. That means it’s his job- no, his duty- to lighten the mood with copious amounts of joking, goofing off, and, of course, pranking.

Jumping out to scare his friends while they’re trapped on a dino-infested island might, on paper, sound like a bad idea. But it keeps everyone on their toes, and the relief of realizing they aren’t facing a dino attack, just Kenji pulling a prank, helps keep any real anger at bay. It’s typically an exasperated annoyance, which Kenji will gladly take. His main targets are Brooklynn and Darius, because he can’t fathom doing that to Sammy, and Yaz is- while perhaps in the most need of lightening up- super freaking scary.

But now that Ben’s back, Kenji knows what he has to do.

Before, back when they were just campers and not survivors, Ben was easily the most frightened of them. The kid was scared of dirt. And his over-the-top hysterics always managed to, somehow, put everyone else at ease. Because if Ben was scared of something, that didn’t really mean anything. Again; scared of dirt.

(Now, if Yaz is scared of something, that’s a different story).

Since Ben’s, uh… departure, they’ve been sorely lacking that energy in the group. Kenji would wager he’s not the only one who misses it. He used to have so much fun riling Ben up with just a couple words (none of the others are so easily baited). And whenever Ben would freak out and instantly cling to him, like some kind of scrawny spider monkey, it made Kenji feel… capable, in a way.

Like, if Ben was trusting Kenji to protect him, maybe he wasn’t so useless after all (which was becoming an all too frequent feeling as the others continued to adapt and grow, leaving Kenji struggling to keep up).

Problem is, Ben’s really hard to scare now.

It’s not always obvious, like when he’s bragging about taking down Toro or itching to blow things up. Sometimes it’s the little things. Whenever they’re out in a group, foraging or gathering supplies, and there’s a sound in the distance that makes them all freeze, Ben’s frozen in readiness, not fear. He looks more like Yaz, tense and waiting with his fists up and eyes narrowed.

Sometimes, when they aren’t occupied by any particular task or imminent threat, and have the chance to enjoy some downtime, Ben drifts off to the side and just… watches, all tense, silent, and anxious. He’ll watch the tree line, or Bumpy on the ground below, or even just the rest of them as they go about their business. Kenji is sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed but none of them bring it up.

It’s… unsettling, seeing Ben like this. Kenji figured he just needed a couple weeks to fall back into the rhythm of the group, to see that he didn’t have to be this loner Rambo type of guy anymore. But even though he talks with them easy enough, seems to enjoy their company, and has a good handle on teamwork, it’s like there’s a part of him that can’t fully shake that mentality.

At least, not without help.

~*~

 Kenji’s plan is- in his humble opinion- pretty dang brilliant.

He waits for a time when it’s just him and Ben in the main level of the clubhouse (Yaz is running laps around their perimeter, Darius is in his bunk writing in his nerd book, Brooklynn and Sammy are upstairs going over inventory) and then announces he’s going for a shower. His daily showers are common knowledge at this point, so Ben just nods in acknowledgement and goes back to leaning against the railing, watching Bumpy graze down below in that tense-silent-anxious way of his.

Kenji sets up the shower and lets it run (he’ll go down to the river later and get more water to make up for the waste, because even though he tries to avoid manual labor whenever possible, it’s totally worth it in this case). And then, being more careful and silent than he’s ever been (except maybe in cases where he’s being hunted by dinos), he slowly creeps up behind Ben before leaping forward with a shriek, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Ben doesn’t just jump and scream. He jumps, screams, then spins around and swings a fist into Kenji’s jaw in one smooth motion.

Kenji’s laughing even as he staggers back, his jaw stinging (because at the end of the day, even though Ben’s kind of a badass now, he’s still Ben and his arms are pretty much chicken wings so there’s no real harm done, just a bruise at most). Plus that’s a valid reaction, considering everything, and he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

“Oh man, I totally got you!” Kenji says anyways, to rub it in. “You should see your… face...”

And Kenji trails off because now he’s seeing Ben’s face.

What Kenji expected is this:

Once Ben realized it was just him pulling a prank, he would get mad. In that totally non-threatening dorky Ben way, where he scrunches his nose and puffs out his cheeks, his little fists clenched at his side like an irate toddler. Maybe he’d stomp off but it’d be worth it because being mad is better than being tense-silent-anxious and it’d give him the chance to be annoyed with Kenji. And maybe Ben being annoyed with Kenji would help everything feel a little more normal, a little more like before.

What Kenji gets is this:

Once Ben realizes it was just him pulling a prank, he doesn’t get mad. He starts shaking. Violently, uncontrollably. Like he’s suddenly come down with hypothermia despite being in a tropical jungle, staring at Kenji all the while and not saying a word. His chest rises and falls rapidly in little panicky breaths and the kind of fear in his eyes isn’t the kind that’s funny. It’s glassy-eyed with shrunken pupils that dart around Kenji’s face, frightened and searching, as if he isn’t fully seeing it.

Kenji’s mouth is dry. “Ben…?” he croaks out.

Ben swallows. “Oh,” he says, in a very small voice. “It’s you.”

Kenji hasn’t heard Ben’s voice sound that small since before, and it doesn’t feel like a victory.

By now, of course, the others have noticed the commotion and it doesn’t take more than a second for them to piece together what happened. Yaz rounds on Kenji with a furious snarl and whisper-screams a lecture about how stupid and irresponsible he is. Darius is immediately trying to mediate the situation while Sammy frantically asks Ben if he’s okay, to which he doesn’t respond. Brooklynn steps in, citing an unboxing video about dealing with shock, and when she goes to put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, he lets her.

And now Kenji realizes where he miscalculated. Ben never showed discomfort with physical contact before because he’d never been surprised by it before (because Ben has gotten scary good at being alert, always keeping an eye and an ear out on his surroundings even in the middle of a conversation). And when it came to his friends, it wasn’t unexpected for Sammy to rush in with a hug or Darius to pat his shoulder or Brooklynn to playfully knock elbows.

But Kenji snuck up on him, so Ben’s first thought wasn’t that it was a friend. It was that he was going to have to run for his life, like he has countless times since being stranded on this island.

Kenji apologizes over and over again as Darius gently leads him away by the elbow and Brooklynn talks to Ben in low tones while Sammy squeezes his hand and Yaz takes up a lookout position because they can’t afford for all of them to be distracted even though she occasionally cuts a glare at Kenji out of the corner of her eye so it’s really debatable how vigilant she’s actually being.

Throughout it all, Ben doesn’t get mad, but he doesn’t stop shaking.

 ~*~

 Darius explains it, later.

“The sudden fear reaction signaled a bunch of adrenaline to be released into his bloodstream, to give him the energy needed for running. And then, when he didn’t, there was nowhere for that energy to go. It’s like, even though his mind knew there wasn’t any danger, his body wasn’t convinced.” Then, a sympathetic look. “You didn’t know, man.”

Kenji only nods. But knowing doesn’t make it better because even though Ben’s stopped shaking he doesn’t turn his back on Kenji anymore and somehow that’s a million times worse than if he’d gotten mad.

 ~*~

 There are claws wrapped around Ben’s shoulders and shrieks in his ears.

Wind whips his face and his stomach lurches as he’s carried through the air, weightless, at the mercy of the Pteranodon. He’s never felt so small and utterly helpless before, not once in his life. Even his screams aren’t big enough to carry, snatched away by the wind and deafened by the roars of the terror-birds fighting over the right to tear him limb from limb.

And then he’s falling and has other things to worry about.

 ~*~

 Ben stops sharing Kenji’s bunk.

 ~*~

 In a rare moment of downtime, Yasmina is curled up with Darius’s field guide, adding a few more illustrations, when she feels Ben staring at her.

It’s not the first time she’s felt him staring at her. It is the first time, however, that she decides to stare back.

She means it to be playful, at first. She meets his eyes, one brow quirked as if to say, ‘What, is there something on my face?’ But instead of glancing away in sheepish embarrassment or jolting out of a daze, Ben just stares back. There’s no emotion in his expression at all except intense focus.

The faint smile drops from Yasmina’s face as she stares back in surprise. Then, with ever-growing confusion and a fair amount of alarm, she realizes that Ben’s shoulders are rising, tense and hunched like he’s trying to make himself look bigger.

Like an animal.

Yasmina knows what it is to stare down a wild animal. She’s felt predatory eyes on her before and either bolted or turned to face the challenge. And that’s what it is, for some of the dinos- a challenge. Sometimes they’re testing your mettle, and standing your ground is enough to make them back off.

Ben must’ve learned that, too. And for whatever reason, he’s slipping into that behavior now.

It’s a ridiculous thought. This is Ben, her friend. Her very scrawny friend who can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and prefers a diet of berries and grubs. And yet, here he is, staring her down like she’s a particularly bold pack of Compies that’s decided to threaten him.

Yasmina gives a slow, deliberate blink. “Ben?” she calls. “What’s up?”

Just like that, the spell is broken. Ben gives a violent start, blinking and shaking his head. Yasmina sees confusion flash across his face, and then realization. And now the embarrassment comes, but it’s darkened by something like horror.

Without a word, Ben turns and darts away, scrambling down the ladder to the alcove underneath the house where Bumpy’s napping.

Yasmina lets him go, too baffled and unsettled to form words.

 ~*~

 Eventually, Yasmina tells Darius about it.

His expression is troubled as she runs through the incident. But in the end, there’s nothing more he can tell her than what she’s already worked out on her own. It’s just another side effect of the mindset Ben has adopted throughout his isolation. Those habits were what he relied on to survive, and it’ll take time for him to realize he doesn’t have to constantly be on edge now that he’s got a team to look out for him.

Though privately, Yasmina wonders if maybe the rest of them should take a page out of Ben’s book. Seems like he’s got a better handle on survival than they do.

(And then she thinks how Sammy would react, if Yasmina started acting like a wary animal around her, and she realizes Ben’s methods come with a price.)

 ~*~

 After Ben runs the Compies off for the first time, staring becomes a defense tactic.

It’s not always the Compies, who are slowly but surely learning not to mess with him. Sometimes it’s the Parasaurolophus in the river, or the lone Pteranodon perched in a tree, or the group of Edmontosauruses grazing on the hilltop. As soon as he feels their eyes on him, he knows his best chance is to stare back, to show that he’s willing to put up a fight, that chasing him wouldn’t be worth it.

Obviously, there are some dinosaurs that doesn’t work on. But if Ben can drastically cut down the amount of time spent running for his life by standing his ground, then he’ll take it.

All he has to do is not back down.

 ~*~

 Ben avoids Yasmina for the next few days.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn wakes up in the middle of the night with an unshakeable feeling that something is wrong.

Her bad feeling is confirmed when she gets a look at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she should’ve been woken up by Ben to take her night watch shift at least an hour ago. This practice, established by Darius months ago who insisted they should always have at least one person awake, has already become routine within the group. Brooklynn couldn’t sleep fully through the night if she tried.

Ben’s only just recently become a part of the routine. Immediately after his return, Darius thought it best just to let Ben settle in and get as much rest as he could, now that he had the security to do so, and everyone agreed. Ben had insisted he didn’t mind, but Darius stood firm, so it’s only been within the last few days that Ben took part.

But this is the first time he hasn’t woken Brooklynn up and her heart is in her throat as she rushes to the lookout point-

Only to find Ben sitting right where he’s supposed to be, looking out over their compound as a small candle burns next to him.

As soon as Brooklynn’s relief passes, it’s replaced with anger. “What are you doing?” she whispers furiously.

Ben, not at all surprised by her presence, gives her a sidelong look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You were supposed to wake me up, so I could do night watch.” Brooklynn struggles to keep her voice low, so as not to alert the others. “What gives?”

Ben shrugs. “I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep tonight, so I figured I’d just take the whole watch myself.”

“That’s not how this works,” Brooklynn hisses, crossing her arms. “Even if you can’t fall asleep- and I’ve totally been there- you have to lay down and close your eyes and rest. You need to rest.”

Ben breaks into an easy smile, but Brooklynn can see the annoyed creases at his eyes. “Hey, it’s fine. I can-”

“Take care of yourself, I know,” Brooklynn interrupts, hating how frustrated she sounds but unable to help it. “But you don’t have to. We’re a team. We can take care of you too, alright?”

Ben stares at her for a moment. “I know that,” he says, sounding uncertain.

Brooklynn softens. When she reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, he lets her. “Then… why?”

“I don’t know,” Ben admits. The muscles beneath Brooklynn’s hand are so tense, it feels like they’re going to snap. “I don’t know.”

They finish the night watch together.

 ~*~

 Brooklynn almost hates to bring it up to Darius.

Dude’s stressing almost nonstop about everything, all the time. And it really isn’t fair for him to be responsible for the rest of them, including Ben. But Darius is the only one who seems to have the… what’s it called, emotional intelligence, she supposes, to weigh in on the situation.

(Sammy is a close second, but her brand of caring is a little more touchy-feely, and this doesn’t seem like the right time for that.)

Darius is immediately worried, pointing out that Ben might accidentally fall asleep on watch if he keeps this up (something Brooklynn hadn’t even thought about). He promises to talk to Ben about it, and that’s that.

Brooklynn is only slightly relieved because she knows if Darius had a real fix for the problem, he would’ve said so. And if Darius doesn’t have a fix for it, maybe there isn’t one.

 ~*~

 Those first several nights, Ben doesn’t sleep at all.

And it’s not for lack of trying. But how can he sleep, when it’s pitch black and the jungle is full of unfamiliar sounds and he’s got no one but a baby Ankylosaurus by his side? He soon finds it’s even worse without Bumpy, though, because at least he trusted that Bumpy would wake up if there was any danger, as her senses are more powerful than his.

On his own, there’s no one to wake him up. So he has to stay up, and settle for catching short scattered naps throughout the day (if he can find a tree to hide up in).

It’s hard, but he’d rather be tired than dead.

 ~*~

 Ben is taken off night watch, but still ends up awake more often than not.

 ~*~

 Pyromaniac is a word no one ever expected to become synonymous with Ben, and yet here they are.

It’s one of the first things he always suggests as an answer to a problem; blow something up. Darius has a million reasons for them not to do that; they could get hurt, they could start a wildfire and burn the jungle down, they could attract unwanted attention from predators.

But that doesn’t stop Ben from cataloguing everything on the island that can be used as an explosive, memorizing their locations or creating hidden stashes. It doesn’t stop him from using the candles that came with the scavenged emergency kits. He’ll light them for no reason, just to watch the small flame flicker back and forth.

(Someday, months later, they’ll encounter a horrific hybrid dinosaur that is drawn to flames, and they’ll all think about how unsettling it is that Ben shares this trait, but none of them will say it.)

 ~*~

 It’s been one week since Bumpy left, and Ben is starting a fire.

Just a small one. It rained all day and he’s soaked to the bone, which normally wouldn’t be a huge problem considering the jungle climate. But now that it’s nighttime, there’s a chill in the air and he can’t afford to get sick. It’s risky, because at night he knows the light could draw attention to him, but his teeth are starting to chatter so there’s no helping it.

When a Stegosaurus stumbles upon him, baying low and angry at finding another creature in its territory, it’s the fire that makes it balk. Rumbling displeasure, it retreats back into the dark jungle. Ben quickly adds torches to his arsenal, using the rest of his shirt as tinder.

Fire is safety.

 ~*~

 Ben lights his candles in silence.

 ~*~

 “You can’t just run off like that,” Kenji says, deadly serious.

Ben scoffs. “I think you’re forgetting who defeated Toro,” he says with an easy smile.

“You’re not invincible, Ben!” Kenji snaps. The anger churning inside him is deceptively hollow, like it’s masking something else. “And I can’t lose you again.”

Ben isn’t smiling anymore. “You won’t,” he mutters, pushing past Kenji. “I can take care of myself, now. I don’t need you to play the hero and protect me.”

Kenji wants to protest that’s not what this is about, and that’s never been what this is about, but Ben is already gone.

 ~*~

 Ben still lives off berries and grubs.

 ~*~

 “… and so I was thinking, berries have seeds in them, right? So if we plant some, we’ll have our own berry bushes at the clubhouse. It’ll cut down our foraging time in the mornings for sure, and-”

“Uh, who are you talking to, Ben?”

Ben blinks at Yasmina’s voice, the girl having only just entered the room.

“Um, Bumpy?” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Yasmina glances out at the compound, where Bumpy is fast asleep and well out of earshot.

“… right.”

 ~*~

 Ben can’t sleep, even when he’s actually trying.

 ~*~

 “Alright,” Darius says, “so we need to get the T-Rex out of Main Street so we can do another sweep for supplies. Any ideas?”

Ben’s hand goes up.

“For the hundredth time, Ben, we aren’t going to feed the T-Rex to the Mosasaurus.”

Ben’s hand goes down.

 ~*~

 Ben feels more at home with Bumpy than the other campers.

 ~*~

 “You know we didn’t mean to leave you, right? We would’ve come back for you if we’d known…”

 ~*~

 Ben never talks about getting off the island.

 ~*~

 “You have to tell us where you’re going, Ben, you can’t just disappear-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps slipping away.

 ~*~

“Blowing stuff up isn’t the answer to everything!”

~*~

 Ben keeps saying he’s okay.

 ~*~

 “We’re a team, we have to work together-”

 ~*~

 Ben keeps smiling.

 ~*~

 “Don’t you trust us to protect you?”

 ~*~

 Ben doesn’t know.

 ~*~

 Sammy finds Ben sitting on the roof of the clubhouse one day.

Her footsteps are loud and obvious as she approaches him. No chance of sneaking up. She knows he’s noticed her, from the subtle shift in his body. He doesn’t acknowledge her, though, continuing to stare off over the jungle and into the horizon, his skinny legs slotted through the railing and dangling over the edge.

The sun’s about to set, a few stars already twinkling in the purple edges of the sky. Sammy can remember another night, months ago, where Ben wasn’t here but everyone else was and they spotted bonfire smoke in the distance. She remembers the way her heart raced, the overwhelming joy and relief flooding through her. And yet, there had been undeniable heartache, because the realization that they’d made it out only meant it was more unfair that Ben hadn’t.

Sammy breaks the silence after a few moments.

“Are you okay?”

Ben doesn’t look at her, but she can see the easy smile that slants across his face, dying sunlight reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Sammy sees the lie for what it is. None of them are okay. No one who’s been through what they have would be. But there’s a certain danger that comes with not being willing to admit it, and an even greater danger that comes with not being able to see it.

“Y’know, it’d be fine if you weren’t.”

Ben doesn’t answer.

Sammy sits with him until the sky turns dark.

 ~*~

 It’s the way he struggles to eat anything he hasn’t obtained by himself.

It’s the way he sometimes goes off on his own without telling anyone.

It’s the way he talks to himself when he thinks no one else is around.

It’s the way he takes any concern for his safety as a personal attack.

It’s the way he leaps at the chance to blow something up.

It’s the way he can stare silently for hours.

It’s the way he smiles a little too easily.

 ~*~

 It’s not jumping at every unexpected movement, or screaming awake from night terrors, or flinching away from the slightest touch. It’s not loud meltdowns or hysterical sobbing or uncontrollable fits of rage.

(Even though those will come, someday, when the island is just a memory.)

It’s the little things, that- once you notice them- keep piling up.

And suddenly, they don’t seem so little anymore.

 ~*~

[agerefandom]

Restrained

Fandom: Death Note

Words: 4,150

Characters: Regressor!Light Yagami, Caregiver!L/Ryuzaki. Brief appearances from Soichiro Yagami, Shuichi Aizawa, and Watari.

Summary: Set during Light and Misa’s imprisonment (episode 16-17). Classification/Regressors Are Known AU: Light was classified as a regressor when he was fifteen, but has fought the identity ever since. L is classified as a caregiver, but has never used those skills further than calming people in interrogation situations. Things come to a head in the second month of Light’s imprisonment.

Warnings: Imprisonment, irresponsible use of restraints, mentions of death and murder, nightmares, panic attacks, involuntary regression, hidden regression being revealed non-consensually. Ominous ending. 

Author’s Notes: I usually take issue with Classification AUs, because regression is a coping mechanism and not a fixed part of someone’s identity. Regression can change, and regressors can also be caregivers, and the idea that it could be ‘classified’ as part of someone’s political identity is kind of distressing. All of that said, it’s also a very comforting trope: it’s nice to imagine that you were ‘meant to be’ a regressor, naturally given that role, and that there are natural caregivers who want/need to take care of you. So, there are pros and cons to this kind of universe, as long as you remember that it’s an AU for a reason! Anyways, that’s my soapboxing done. Please note the warnings before reading! 

Light was not a regressor.

It didn’t matter what the letter he received at age fifteen said. Didn’t matter that his age range was listed as ‘2-3’ and a permanent caregiver was recommended. Light Yagami was a neutral, collected, and precocious teenager. He was mature for his age, and always had been.

Admittedly, Light occasionally sucked his thumb to help him sleep. And he convinced his mother to buy him more expensive sheets because he liked to run his hands across the texture. And maybe he cast side-glances at the adult playgrounds all around the city, at the regressors who were happily running and playing on the swings.

But Light Yagami was not a regressor. He got top marks. He wore stiff, professional clothes. He didn’t cry, not even when he stubbed his toe. He turned his nose up at sweet drinks and packaged candy. In short, at seventeen, Light was a model young man.

Which was when the notebook fell outside his classroom window, and everything got a lot more complicated.

--

Could a regressor do this? Collectively bring the world to its knees, the news outlets humming with one story? Could a regressor kill hundreds, save the general population from the evil in its midst?

Light Yagami was Kira, and Kira was not an age regressor.

--

Light Yagami was not Kira.

Light was trapped in a cell, his arms shackled behind his back, and he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t Kira. What kind of idea was that, marching in and saying he thought he was subconsciously Kira? Absurd. He wouldn’t do that kind of thing.

He yelled at the ceiling, pleaded with Ryuzaki, and received cold answers in return.

How had Light sat here for a week, believing that Ryuzaki had been right to lock him away? It was absurd: he couldn’t have committed the murders without knowing at all, it just didn’t make sense.

“You told me to keep you in there, no matter what you said,” Ryuzaki repeated calmly, his voice crackling through the cheap speakers outside of Light’s cell. “I’m only doing what you told me.”

“Well, stop!” Light shouted, tugging uselessly against the leather cuffs that held his arms behind him. His shoulders ached from the position. “Listen to me now, I’m not Kira!”

“We don’t know that,” Ryuzaki said. “Until we can be sure, you will stay in that cell. I’m sorry, Light.”

Light felt tears well up in his eyes, and he jerked his head down to hide it. With his bangs hiding his expression, he tried to wrestle himself under control.

He felt scared and helpless and he just didn’t understand what he was doing here. Let me out! a voice was screaming inside him, younger and just as frightened as he was. Please, I can’t take it anymore!

What was he thinking? He was Light Yagami, part of the taskforce dedicated to catching Kira. He could withstand this. He would have to.

He didn’t bother to hide the tears as he raised his eyes again to the camera.

“Fine. I’ll stay. But you’ll see that I’m not Kira! I don’t know what’s happening, but I believe that my innocence will be proven one way or another.”

“That’s exactly what Kira would say,” Ryuzaki drawled into the microphone, and then there was a short sound of feedback as the conversation cut off.

Light rocked back to lean against the side of the bed, feeling exhausted but satisfied. He’d made his statement, and he had fought off the despair. He was Light Yagami, and he would deal with this imprisonment with all the dignity he could.

--

This was awful.

Light had never been so bored and anxious in his life. The days stretched on, with only Ryuzaki’s occasional check-ins to keep his mind busy. Out of lack for other things to do, Light started sleeping more than usual. His days were hazy, short bathroom trips out of the cell and the clatter of the food tray his only reference points for time. The lights shut off for seven hours every night, the cameras equipped with night vision to watch him toss and turn in his restraints.

There was nothing to do but ruminate, worry, wonder. Light tried to run through lectures in his head, even tried his hand at mentally writing a story. He wondered if he could convince Ryuzaki to play chess with him over the speaker system, but found himself worrying about whether that would make it seem like he wasn’t taking his imprisonment seriously.  

It had been a month, and Light was suffering.

The nights were hardest. In the dark, Light cried, trying to stay quiet. He couldn’t bite his thumb, he couldn’t feel his soft blankets, and sometimes he couldn’t sleep for the tug of the restrains at his wrists and shoulders. He wanted to kick his legs, flail around, scream at the top of his lungs until they let him out. But he was Light Yagami, and he had dignity. Even with cameras fixed on him twenty-four hours a day, even with his wrists and ankles contained, even under the constant scrutiny of Ryuzaki and the other members of the task force.

He almost made it to the end.

--

Things that Light didn’t know:

-it had been a month since Kira had begun killing again -his father was in a matching jail cell, several blocks away -the task force had been pressuring L for weeks to let Light and Misa go, convinced by the new wave of murders that the two were innocent -L had a plan, and was simply waiting to contact Light’s father to play his part

(Light would never know most of these things, because before they became relevant, everything fell apart.)

--

L sat in the same place he’d been sitting for weeks, watching the same scenes play out on the same flickering screens. Misa sagged against her restraints, Light laid curled up on the bed, and Soichiro sat in his chair, staring down at his hands.

Nothing had changed, but everything was different.

Light and Misa were Kira, or at least they had been. L had never been more certain. Now they both seemed utterly convinced of their innocence, and L wasn’t comfortable with the implications of that. Were they truly ignorant of their role? Had their ability to kill been passed onto someone else, or had the two of them been unwitting puppets to some new and yet-unseen player?

Misa took a struggling breath, and went limp again. Light shifted. Soichiro got up and began to pace. His cell would fit eight of his steps before he had to turn around and begin again in the other direction.  

L missed nothing. But the pieces weren’t coming together.

He tapped his fingers against his knees, a syncopated rhythm as his eyes flashed from one prisoner to the next. Watari had brought him a plate of fruit, not yet touched, with icing sugar sprinkled over them. They would make L’s fingers sticky, and he didn’t want to get juice on the controls. He would have to eat with one hand, and operate the microphones with his other. He was just about due his check-in with Misa-Misa.

Just as L began to reach for the berries, a movement on-screen caught his eye. He didn’t currently have the audio on for the cells, but from the visual, he would guess that Light just woke up screaming. L has had a few of those nightmares. They weren’t pleasant.

L switched the audio on, and listened to Light trying to calm himself down. He was talking out loud, a mutter only loud enough for the microphones inside his cell to pick up on. (Light always yelled to the camera when he was talking to L, as if he weren’t aware that the cell was bugged well enough to hear every last breath he took. They could take no risks with Kira, when they still didn’t know how he was committing the crimes.)

“I’m okay,” Light was muttering. “Don’t… don’t do this. I don’t need anything. I’m okay.” His breathing caught, paused, and then resumed. “I’m okay. Please, please- don’t.” His voice was trembling, and L leaned closer. He’d seen Light crying, of course, trying to hide it by turning away from the cameras. But this seemed… different. Light was on the edge of something, and if L was lucky, it might be some kind of confession, fuelled by a terrible dream that brought all of his crimes rushing back with the sudden weight of guilt that Kira never felt.

Yes, L had enough self-reflection to know that he was kidding himself. But it had been a long month and a half.

He remained crouching, one hand poised above the plate of strawberries and the other hand hovering above the microphone that would let him speak to Light. And he listened.

“I don’t wan’ do this,” Light whispered to himself, his words slurring together in a way that L had never heard from the other man. The distressed voice hooked its claws into his chest in a way that was both foreign and familiar. Was this… “I don’ wan’ do this,” Light repeated, and then burst into tears.

It wasn’t anything like the quiet, hidden tears of the night-time. Light was sobbing, pulling at his restraints, tossing on the bed. Unable to wipe them away, tears and snot made a mess of his face. L watched as the teenager struggled to his knees and pressed himself against the wall, as if he were trying to get some kind of comfort from the pressure. The tears wouldn’t stop, even as words started making their way through the sobs.

“Lemme out, I wan’ out, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too dark, I can’t. Please, I’m too… I can’t feel my hands!” Light wailed, collapsing in on himself, his shoulders straining against the cuffs.

L was dimly aware that his hands had dropped to his sides. He knew he was staring. He knew that Aizawa had come running to stand behind him, alerted by the cries coming through the speakers. His ears were ringing, and he could feel Light’s sobs in his own chest.

The truth was unavoidable: Light Yagami was a regressor, and L had not known.

How was that possible?

Light was registered as age-natural on his official documents. L had watched him for weeks, and he had shown no signs of regression, not at home when he was unaware of being observed, and not here in the prison cell. Until now.

This was a harsh involuntary regression, from the looks of it, and the part of L that had made them stamp ‘caregiver’ on his own documents was aching.

“Oh my god. Is Light a regressor?” Aizawa said behind him. “That looks like regression, right?”

“It isn’t on his file,” L said, pleased that his voice sounded even. He hadn’t been around a regressor in distress for a few years, and he’d forgotten how much it made his chest hurt. Knowing that he’d been the one to put Light in that situation made it worse. Rationally, he knew that Light being a regressor meant nothing to the investigation. In fact, it made L even more certain that he was Kira. To conceal his headspace that thoroughly, even under investigation, made it clear that Light was no ordinary teenager. That must have taken an immense amount of willpower and planning.

“You have to let him out,” Aizawa said. “You can’t hold a regressor in a place like that, and his innocence has already been proven.” Light was still sobbing, his harsh breaths providing an undercurrent to their conversation. “Ryuzaki, you can’t possibly let that continue.”

“I… think he knew this might happen,” L realized. “This is what he meant when he asked me not to let him out, whatever happened. He knew that he would regress under the pressure.”

“All the more reason to release him! He still doesn’t know that Kira is killing again, it’s not fair. You’ve put him under way too much stress. Let me talk to him.” Aizawa reached for the microphone, and L struck his hand away.

“No. The last thing he needs is more sensory input from the speaker system.” Aizawa recoiled from the physical interception, eyes wide. “And you could jeopardize the investigation,” L added, slightly belated.

“You can’t do this. I’ll call the rest of the team,” Aizawa threatened, reaching into his pocket.

“There’s no need for that,” L sighed. He knew that the rest of the team would agree with Aizawa. The legal system was more lenient for regressors, and keeping them in solitary confinement was widely considered cruel. “I’ll go myself.”

Just because Light couldn’t be held in the cell anymore didn’t mean that L was prepared to let him go without twenty-four-hour supervision. Luckily, he had a set of unusually long handcuffs that he’d already been prepared to use after Light’s release. He could just speed that process along… and tell Watari to order some more regressor-friendly accessories for their room, of course. Maybe pad the cuff that Light would wear, so he didn’t accidentally hurt himself.

L shook his head, pushing his chair back from the table with a sigh. His caregiver mind was getting in the way again. Light was Kira, regressor or no. He wasn’t keeping Light close so that he could take care of him, but so that he was unable to hurt anyone else.

“We’ll discuss Misa’s release when I return,” L added over his shoulder as he headed for the door, reaching into his pocket to call Watari with the car. Light’s prison was a short drive from the base, and the sooner L got there, the better.

--

Sure enough, the drive was agony.

L stared out the window, the seatbelt Watari had forced him to wear digging into his chest and disrupting his thoughts. He was trying to make plans, trying to think back to all of his interactions with Light and wonder if he should have known. Was that why Light had always sharply refused any kind of sweet drink, even something as simple as fruit juice? Was he afraid that he might slip into regression? Was that why he had been crying at night, quietly regressing just enough for his childish fears to come to the surface? How confused was he, how disoriented in the cell? He seemed to know he was trapped, but did he remember what he was accused of?

L barely noticed when the car came to a stop, but when Watari opened his door for him, it took genuine effort not to go running into the building. Instead, L moved even slower than he usually would. Each gesture would be planned. Each word intentional. Just because Light was a regressor, it didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. L had to be on his guard, even more because of his natural caregiver instincts.

He made his way down the cold concrete stairwell, Watari a few paces behind him. Hands tucked in his pockets, breathing slow and natural. No worries about what he might have missed in the two minutes he’d been away from the screens. Had Light hurt himself? Was he safe? Was he still crying? L should have brought water, he’s sure to be dehydrated-

They stepped onto the cell block, and L had a brief conversation with one of the guards to obtain the keys. He’d already texted ahead, and they knew to expect him.

Watari stayed behind, just within earshot as L padded down the line of empty cells to the one that held Light.

It was strange to see the cell in person. For the first time, L could see the camera that Light had shouted at so often. He could see the details of the walls more clearly here, the chipped tile of the bathroom corner and the scratches in the concrete that didn’t come through on the long-distance video feed.

And there was Light, curled into a ball on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms still tied behind him, much in the same position that he had been napping in before his nightmare.

L had approached soundlessly, and Light’s eyes were closed. He didn’t open them until L put the key into the lock and turned it.

“N—no, I don’t-” Light stuttered, and then looked up. “Ryuzaki? Ryuzaki!” He tried to get up, but the cuffs on his ankles made him stumble and fall. L heard his knees hit the concrete with a harsh crack, and Light teared up again. “No, no, don’t come in. M’sorry, don’t come in.”

“I’ll let you out of the cuffs,” L told him, his hand on the door but waiting to open it.

“No, I don’t want it,” Light managed. “Just… go.”

“Light, how old are you?” L pressed.

Light made a sound that resembled a squeak, and very slowly raised his eyes to L’s.

“How old are you right now?” L asked again. He watched Light’s expression twist from surprise to embarrassment to conflict, then Light started crying again.

“I don’t wanna be,” Light sobbed. “I don’ wan’ it.”

And there went L’s chest again, twisting and aching with the sound of a regressor in distress. He regulated his voice, unwilling to let it sound too caring. It came out flat instead.

“There’s no shame in regressing, Light. Two percent of the population isn’t an insignificant number. You’ll be more comfortable with your arms free.” Light shook his head, tears flying with the gesture.

“No! Don’t come in!”

“How old are you, Light? You’re young, I can tell that much. Probably in the toddler range, if I had to guess.” From Light’s glare through the tears, L had hit the nail on the head. “I thought so. Stop fighting me. I was going to let you out soon anyways.” Well, L hadn’t been meant to say that. But he could probably use that to his advantage.

“But… but you think I’m Kira,” Light mumbled. Interesting: he did have his full memories, then. Very little disorientation for such a young age range.

“I do,” L admitted. “But the taskforce doesn’t. They want you back on the team.”

“Me?” Light blinked up at him, and his eyes were even wider than usual, framed with perfect dark lashes, and L was in agony being separated by bars. This regressor was going to be the death of him. “But… I thought the bad things stopped ‘cause I was here.”

L was fascinated by the limits of Light’s mental reasoning while he was regressed. He would have to do some experimentation at a later time, but for now…

“I lied. Kira has been active for almost a month. I wasn’t convinced it meant you were innocent, but it makes a good case.” L watched that news hit home, but in a very different way than it would have hit an adult Light.

“You lied? Why? I thought… I thought I was bad, maybe, but you were lying!” Light tried to wipe his tears on his shoulder, only partially succeeding. “I don’ wanna know why. Probably a good reason, ‘cause you’re L and you do all the good things.”

Hmm. It seemed that Light’s certainty that he wasn’t Kira didn’t extend to his regressed self. Perhaps he was speaking more candidly in this headspace.

“I’m not fond of unnecessary cruelty,” L sighed, hooking one hand through the bars. “If I had known, Light-”

“You never woulda had me on the task force,” Light said, quite viciously. “Never ever.”

“That’s not true.” L traced one thumb against his lips. “I’ve known regressors who are exceedingly intelligent. Everything would have proceeded the same.”

“Even though I’m three?” Light asked, and L fought the urge to smile. Information, at last. Three. He stored that away.

“Even though you’re three,” L confirmed. “Your input is valuable to me. In fact, I would like to invite you back to the taskforce after you’ve recovered from this imprisonment.”

“Yes!” Light shuffled forwards on his knees, wincing at the movement. He probably bruised them earlier when he fell. “Yes, please! I wanna help catch Kira! And all the bad guys!” His eyes were shining with excitement and the tears from earlier. Looking down at him, L’s mind caught in a loop.

Light Yagami was Kira, but this… this was not Kira. What that meant about Light, or Kira, or the nature of Light’s regression, L couldn’t say, but he was certain of one thing.

“Can I come in now?” L asked.

Light visibly hesitated, then sank back onto his heels and nodded.

“Thank you.” L left the keys in the lock as he swung open the door and entered, making his way to Light briskly. It was easy enough to get the cuffs off his wrists, and Light whined when his hands were free, struggling to move his shoulders back into a natural position. “Give it time,” L advised, pressing at his spine with experienced fingers. Massages were one of his lesser-used skills, but easy to pick up with his wide knowledge of the human body. “They’ll hurt less in a few minutes.”

He wasn’t expecting Light to shift forward and wrap his arms around him, but that was exactly what happened.

L froze, his hands raised in the air as if in surrender. He’d comforted regressors before, at crime scenes and over interrogation tables. A few of the children at the orphanage were regressors, and he interacted with them when he visited. But none of them had dove into a hug like this. L was a detective, a mentor, a little too strange and intense to be approachable. Now there were arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly, and L didn’t know what to do.

Falteringly, L returned the embrace, the tips of his fingers resting lightly on his own forearms. Light had lost weight over the last month, and his body felt almost frail against L.

“Had a nightmare,” Light whispered.

L wondered if Aizawa was listening, back at the base. He wondered if Watari had wandered closer, after hearing the cell door open. He wondered what kind of things Kira dreamed about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” L asked, and didn’t lean back from the embrace.

“It was bad,” Light said. “I was running, and there were hands, and a fence, an’ there were… bodies. On the fence. And they were… they were…” L could feel Light shaking, and he held the regressor just a little bit closer.

“Just a dream,” L said. He wondered how much blood was on Light’s hands, how much of it he remembered. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream.” L held Light in his arms, the ache in his chest finally fading as he looked down at him. There, the regressor was safe, and L could finally relax. Light’s breathing slowly evening out, his grasp on L’s shirt finally loosening. “You’re safe.”

Light blinked up at L sleepily, and then his eyes slid closed. A natural reaction to stress, and having a caregiver close by. Even if L hadn’t disclosed his classification, his actions combined with Light’s instincts had likely made it clear. L cradled Light in his arms, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and watched him fall asleep. He would have no more nightmares with a caregiver so close by, and even if he did, L would be there to calm him down.

L knew that this was trouble. Light was Kira, and Kira was death. L’s instincts as a caregiver could only blind him further as he continued in the investigation. If he were being rational, he would attach Light to someone else for the rest of his surveillance period. Prevent the caregiver/regressor bond that had been formed between them from strengthening into something difficult to break.

But L didn’t like being rational. He followed his instincts, and they were always right.

Right now, his instincts told him two things.

I will not let go of Light Yagami.

This will be the death of me.

[shrinkthisviolet]

2021 Year-End Fic Review

Taking advantage of @thinkingisadangerouspastime’s open tag! Thanks for giving me a reason to ramble, Amy 💞

Also, I’m only counting posted stories as complete! And I’m counting fics individually, since only my -Week series (2 out of 8) are technically complete.

How many stories did you complete?

This year, I completed 25! Most are oneshots, but two are multichap 🥰which is a first for me!

What is your total word count for the year?

144188 which is...wow 😂 that’s crazy!! And it’s all of my works except 11 (7 from 2020, 1 from 2019, 1 from 2016, and 1 posted in January of this year that I don’t count because it was written in 2019)

What fandoms did you write in this year?

Ooh well ATLA of course. Also Cobra Kai/Karate Kid, Ted Lasso, and the Flash! And I’m gonna try to sneak in something MCU-related in the last few days of the year (emphasis on TRY). There’s a Star Wars fic in the mix too!

Did you write more, less, or roughly about what you expected?

More, but honestly, that’s only because my fanfic impulse control is close to 0 😂

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

This one, because the CK time travel AU as a concept has grown and bloomed into something amazing 💞 it’s how I’m coping with whatever decisions they’ll make in S4

Though a close second is this Empath Daniel fic, because I’m really proud of the worldbuilding 🥰

I also love this Evil Zuko fic 😂 it’s so hard to rank my fics!

(The Bumizumi time travel AU will join my list of favorites soon! I just haven’t gotten to the really fun part yet)

What is your most underappreciated story of the year?

...okay I know I said I don’t count this fic...but screw it, I’m counting it. This Jyn & Leia fic was one I quite liked! It didn’t get the reception I was hoping for, which is a shame, because I definitely think there’s room for these two to be friends within the bounds of canon

Biggest fanfic-related disappointment of 2021?

Hmm...honestly not many? I mean, there’s this series (for Nina Shelley, my Ted Lasso OC) and also this one (for Morgan Wells, my Flash OC) but...not much has really happened in either series yet, so I’m not too surprised. It’s mostly just been set-up (or pay-off without build-up 😂)

Biggest fanfic-related surprise of 2021?

Honestly this Roykeeley & Jamiedani fic, which I actually posted yesterday for a Ted Lasso Secret Santa! It’s blown up more than I expected, and I’m so grateful for that 💞 it wasn’t my favorite fic, and I definitely felt a little imposter syndrome while writing it, but I’m glad people like it! Especially the recipient, which was definitely great to hear

This fic (exploring Barry’s grief in the wake of 3x1 aka Flashpoint) also surprised me–two authors in the fandom who I love dearly loved that fic, and were moved by it, which I’m glad to hear! I wasn’t sure if I was writing Barry and Harry (and grieving, generally) quite right, but I’m glad it worked

Something you’re looking forward to working on in 2022?

My OCs with series (Morgan and Nina) are gonna get their series fleshed out! Amelia, a new OC of mine for Marvel/MCU, is going to get her own series (again, 0 fic-related impulse control 😂)

Other than that...my CK and Bumizumi time travel AUs are steadily chugging along.

I’ve got a couple House of Anubis and Flash oneshots planned! One of the HOA ones is coming in early January (there’s a hard deadline for that one, which is why I can promise a posting date 😂)

Some more Spidey-related oneshots (NWH-related) are coming next year too! That movie really has me in a chokehold

Also...CK S4 fix-its are definitely coming, because I don’t trust this next season very much (some of the things I’m hearing make me nervous...like how they’re gonna treat Sam)

And I promise I’m getting back to that ATLA Soulmate AU at some point next year! Not sure when, but at some point. I’m proud of the worldbuilding for this series, and I wanna explore in the sandbox more! And if anyone wants to run with the worldbuilding, feel free (just make sure to gift it to me and give inspo credit, because I’d love to read it!)

Tagging: @seek--rest @robbykeeneslawyer @connorswhisk @blackaquokat @usaonetwothree @starstruckpurpledragon @squireofgeekdom and anyone else who wants to do it!

[djemsostylist]

Of Queens and Trash

Here’s the thing. SCK has been on a downward trend since 13. The breakup was long, getting together again was tiring, the amnesia plot was poorly handled and the mess that came following his recovery was, well, a mess. The necessary break for covid gave us a chance for a fresh start for Edser. All the bad stuff in the past, and a focus in the last episodes of them being able to finally fulfill all the promises they had not been able to. After all, this was a story that, at its core, was about two people who met and fell in love and who, no matter what, chose to be together. Invisible handcuffs. And with the return of the OG writer, it seemed we might finally get that. After 39 episodes of angst and only 7(?) of real togetherness, surely it was time? Forget the pain of the past, and start with Edser navigating their world together.

And then the trailer dropped. And all of a sudden, all the people who had spent months eviscerating Serkan for behaving badly in the 30s were celebrating this new plot, the “great angst” and Eda “being a Queen.”

For me, I can’t get over the hiding of the child. It's a hardline deal breaker. I don’t think it matters who writes it, I think it's an awful plotline. No matter how "good" the trailer looks or moments seem, I will remember that I was watching a show about two people who loved each other and never wanted to be apart, about a man who learned how to open his heart, and this ruined it all.

Now, I think it's worth noting that my hard line, in this particular case, is in response to Edser, if that makes sense. I’m not hardline, “if this is in a story I’m not watching”. If it works for the characters and story because that is the type of story being told, then fine.

I don't subscribe to the woke feminism brand of "all women are Queens and all men are Trash" which seems to be a trend of late (and not just in fandom). I think people are people and people are generally imperfect but also trying. I don’t think women, simply by virtue of carrying a child, get full say in what happens to the child, regardless of the father’s wishes. I'm not fond of a “hiding a kid storyline”, and while I get the whole "my body my choice" style of arguing, it took two people to make the baby. Two people get a say in what happens. I get you are growing the kid, but you didn't spontaneously conceive.

For me, Edser being apart and/or hiding a kid is a hardline. It doesn't fit with the characters as I know them and it doesn't fit with the storyline. And look--I hated the amnesia plot. I thought there were a literal million ways this could have been done better, but it's what we got. So for everyone suddenly defending this new plot, despite it making about as much sense as Eda getting married to make Serkan remember her, then that means everything goes. No blaming writers or ignoring canon...everything has context and meaning now. And since “it's realistic” is also a common refrain, then fine. Let’s go realistic.

Imagine being in a plane crash. You wake up, you have clear physical/mental blocks. For someone who likes to be in control, that's terrifying. You have a ring on your finger with a woman's name you don't know, and an entire year missing. You call the one person you know will come (since your parents and friends are useless) and she comes and tells you a story that jives. You can't remember shit and you keep getting flashes and your hands won't work, so you take what she tells you, because why would you have any reason to doubt? It’s not like you can remember anyway, and trying to remember hurts.

You finally go back home, and you recognize nothing about your own life. Friends, family...everything is different. Your mom is out, your dad is gone, your best friends are married. You don't even live in the same house, you have people working in your company you don’t know--even your dog is gone. And then you have a hysterical woman throwing pictures in your face of a man you don't recognize and your brain is still foggy and all your friends and family seem to be shrugging their shoulders at you.

You're terrified and alone and all you get is some vagueness about an epic love story and too much emotion and all you want to do is hide. From everything. Plus your heart is doing this thing every time the girl is near and you think you might be dying maybe and remember how your brother died?

So, the girl kisses you, you literally feel like you might be dying, and it's like naw. Fuck this. I'm getting back an ounce of control. So you propose to Selin. I mean you don’t love her and you barely want her but at least she is the same. At least she hasn’t changed, and at least she doesn’t stare at you with the weight of a million expectations that everyone else does. At least she doesn’t look at you and hope to see a man you can’t ever remember being.

But then the girl everyone claims is your soulmate is suddenly engaged to another man, and spends every moment after that claiming she hates you, she is over you, she is better off/happier without you, doesn't need you.

So it's like, okay, what is the truth. Your brain isn't helping, your friends aren't helping, she isn't helping. So you lash out, you close off, because really, what else is left. Your life isn’t your life, your mind isn’t your mind, you can’t even figure out what’s real and what isn’t. And she’s getting married and you want to die but she’s getting married and surely if she loved you she wouldn’t be doing this?

And then you get your memories back. Finally. Everything comes flooding back ,and it's a lot. You cope in shitty ways, you don't respond well, etc. You’ve returned from the dead twice, and everything feels just slightly off, but maybe you can make this work. At least you have her. After a few days, you’re feeling like your old self. You've got your memories, your girl, the possibility of the future you had snatched twice, and then BOOM. She rejects you, out of nowhere.

Won't talk, won't communicate, you have no idea what the fuck is happening. She’s crying and sad but also not leaving but also not staying and your brain can’t quite work things out but all you can do is promise that you love her, only her, always her, forever. Surely she must know that by now, right?

And then she tells you about the baby. You can't remember the sex of course, but then you find out it probably happened while your brain was fucked, and you barely have time to process this before oh yeah the love of your life is leaving you bc she would rather you raise a baby with your rapist. And suddenly you might be dying, again.

But you stop her. You stop her and even though she says she didn’t come back for you, why else would she have stayed? So, you finally get her back, she tattoos you on her finger and maybe just maybe everything will be fine when BOOM. Cancer. You aren't even over the other shit, and you have a fucking tumor. You are 30 years old, you've survived a plane crash, amnesia, and now you have a tumor. How many times can a person die?

And so you don’t cope well. You withdraw, you back away. Your brother died when he was young, you know what that does to a person. You know what it did to your family. You have this fear that curls around your heart that says “but what if she becomes my mother.” And she goes. She leaves and she takes your heart and your child (that you don’t even know about) and it’s like...fuck. Again. Because everyone leaves you, eventually. And somehow, it’s always your fault.

So, what I'm saying is, Eda endured a lot, sure. She was hurt. Their breakup in 14 was hard and I’m not denying that (although there is another post I could write about how since Eda never actually uses her words to tell him how she feels he can, perhaps, be understood in assuming that breaking up after barely being together would hurt but also that she would move on and live her life happily without him. Which I guess season 2 proves…) Losing Serkan to an accident/amnesia was hard, looking at the body of the man she loves but not seeing the man she loves must have been agony. But Serkan was fucking wrecked. So instead of choosing to write a plot where they both get to heal, where they both get to explore their pain and work through it together, we get Serkan who reverted to being a robot to cope with massive trauma and PTSD, and essentially is abandoned by everyone, again.

I guess what I'm saying is, if staying with him and supporting him when he was dealing with trauma was too much for her, then fine.That is very true for some people, and it’s certainly realistic. But I don't really think that jives with Eda and her character, and while it isn't a trauma competition, I'd still think Serkan comes out a winner here. Eda lost her parents, which was awful. She lost him, but she got him back. Twice. His trauma is losing his brother, being abandoned by his parents, a plane crash, amnesia, emotional manipulation/abuse and cancer. And then he gets punished by having his daughter taken away from him because he was having a hard time coping. Keeping a kid a secret isn't "protecting the child" it's punishing the father.

Tl;dr The direction they have taken the characters is gross for both mains, but if people are trying to justify Eda keeping his child from him because “he deserves it” or “she did what was best for her” then I think we maybe haven’t been watching the same show. Even if he said “I don’t want kids,” saying that to a hypothetical child is very different then being told “a baby is very much our reality.” Because that's the crux right? It's not that he decided he just didn't want to be a father ever, he's scared of having a family and losing them or of them losing him. And then she made that very fear be realized. Which is tragic and quite the opposite of what his life partner needed to do in that situation.

Bitte.

Thanks to @lolo-deli for the proofread and the final lines, you are the best. And for putting up with my uncontrollable ranting about this for days.

[linkspooky]

It’s Not a Love Triangle

Eren isn’t choosing romantically between Mikasa and Historia. In fact who Eren romantically likes is pretty much out of the question for him. He’s already said as much to Zeke, he doesn’t think it matters because he’s going to die in four years. He’s already stopped himself from having those feelings. However, not only is  Eren wavering between both girls written like a classical love triangle in a way the fandom has picked up on (and boy have they picked up on it), both of these girls clearly mean something to Eren. Eren is choosing between them in a way, but not romantically. Eren and Historia represent two different pathways Eren could have chosen. 

1. A Want vs Need Conflict

Historia kinda represents what Eren thinks he wants. Eren always gravitates towards his wants. [...]  Historia seems like the opposite of Mikasa. 

So, I’m paraphrasing here but this meta was written in response to an ask I received which pointed out this fact. Historia represents what Eren thinks he wants, and Historia is also the opposite of Mikasa. 

A Want vs. Need conflict. Explained. 

To understand want versus need, you’ll first need to know what each one means:

Want: something your character desires, because they believe it’ll improve their happiness.

Need: the lesson they need to learn to overcome their inner struggle and achieve true happiness.

Just like real people, your characters will have things in their life that make them unhappy, uncomfortable, or discontent. Their want is the thing they think will free them from these problems. On the other hand, their need is to learn and grow. This is how they’ll achieve true happiness, and how they’ll overcome the conflict of your story. [x]

So, Anon was picking up on that conflict. In a way Eren’s want being ‘freedom’ itself, kind of relates to this conflict. If a want is something a character thinks will free them from those problems, then Eren’s want is a quick and easy solution that will free him from the struggles he’s facing. Eren restates over and over again in the panels above that he wanted things to turn out this way. He wanted this conflict, he wanted to start it, he wanted to make it worse. In a way that is true. 

Historia represents what Eren thinks he wants. Eren keeps flashing back to two scenes when he is indecisive, either his childhood with Mikasa (wrapping the scarf around, seeing her by the tree the day the wall fell) or kissing the ring with HIstoria. The reason we keep coming back to kissing the ring is what Eren was thinking just as he kissed the ring. 

First when Eren’s indecisive about whether or not to tell everyone about the royal titan’s blood activating the control titan, his gaze lingers on MIkasa and Historia. He even talks about how his father had two wives, one of royal blood, and one who was just a regular girl he met on Paradis island. All while looking indecisively between MIkasa and Eren. It’s colored romantically, but it’s not. 

When Eren is about to kiss Historia’s ring he isn’t thinking about Historia in a romantic context. He’s thinking about how he wants to sacrifice his own life, but he doesn’t want Historia to sacrifice her life. 

Eren has always associated Historia with ideas of control, importance and agency he feels like he doesn’t have. Even the act of kissing the ring is like something a prince in a story book would do. Eren has always been especially bitter about the fact that he is just kind of a regular kid that all of this got thrust upon, rather than a person of import. 

Historia, and Zeke are both examples of characters who have lived lives that Eren thinks he wants. Zeke is propped up his whole life as a special person who is going to change the world and save the Eldian people, and this entirely wrecks him as a person. Historia’s circumstances in life were determined entirely by her birth. She was mistreated for being a bastard, she was abandoned for being a bastard, and even when she rose up as queen it was more because of her bloodline and how she could be used as a symbol to the people. 

It’s not just Eren being a baby about not feeling special enough though, it’s also how Eren copes. The fact is Eren has been made to feel powerless, and has lost people in circusmtances he can’t control again and again. This continual loss, and no lasting security makes Eren feel insecure as a person. Eren feels, incomplete and insufficient. 

He is made to feel continually unworthy of not only what others try to give him, but also he doesn’t think it’s even okay for him to survive and keep living when he was helpless to protect his mother. Carla tells him that he doesn’t need to do anything, all he needs to do is be born into this world to be loved. Yet, after losing her Eren feels himself as unworthy of even a mother’s love. He is continually feeling inferior over and over again, and Eren’s attempt to correct those feelings is, always, always, always. 

To make some grand desperate gesture like this. Eren swings between wanting to die in some big sacrifice to protect all of humanity, and wanting to kill everyone else, and both of those are very true to who he is at the same time... somehow. But, what’s important is both of them are kind of the same thing. 

I’m simplifying here, but you can look at my other meta for Eren’s psychological inner workings. Basically, Eren wants to do a big thing. Eren has been made to feel so helpless, and so useless for so long that his response is just as extreme as all of the stress he’s piled up and endured for so long. He wants to do a big thing, that will place him at the center of the narrative. 

These ideas, specialness, strength, importance, they all represent a control over their own lives Eren does not have. Even Historia gets to ascend as queen and gets political importance. Eren brushed against the idea that Historia might just be a normal girl in the Uprising Arc, but that’s also not the conclusion he landed on. We see his thoughts at the end, and he chooses to see HIstoria as a special, strong person again. Not only that but he sees Historia as having something he lacked. 

His statement is ironic because it also applies to Historia. Eren thought he was special, but everything special about him was just kind of happenstance. Eren just happened to inherit the attack titan because who he was born as. The same way Historia just happened to be born as someone with royal blood. In that way, Eren and Historia are both normal people. They were born into cirucmstances they can’t really control and they live reacting to those circumstances the same way as everybody else. Everybody, is a normal person, because everybody is born into this world. 

Eren is able to perceive for a moment that Historia is a normal girl, but also ultimately he’s not able to give that to her. And it’s because Eren and Historia are ultimately too similiar. When given the choice between playing a role, and being themselves they will try to choose playing a role because that’s their broken way of seizing agency in their own lives. It’s just Eren will pretend that he is important when he doesn’t and try to steal that for hismelf, and Historia will try to fulfill what other people expect of her. 

Eren could have perceived HIstoria as a normal girl, but I think ultimately he didn’t and it was because of this moment right here. Both Eren and Historia cope in a way where they try to be important. I think true rebellion for Historia would be declaring that she’s just going to be a person. You know a normal girl. That’s what she wants, but Historia will always deny what she wants and act in ways she thinks she wants instead. Or rather what she thinks other people want of her. 

Historia declaring that she’s the enemy of mankind is dramatic, but it’s really just flipping the narrative. Either way, if she’s the girl who sacrifices herself for the sake of mankind, or the enemy of all mankind who refuses to sacrifice Eren it’s just one extreme flipping for another. It’s still black and white thinking. 

Also if I were to simplify the goal of both Eren and Historia, it’s that they both want to live with pride, because as people they are fundamentally without pride. They are both insecure in themselves, their decisions, and choices. 

However, they don’t exactly understand what living what pride means. As characters both of them are kind of grasping. It honestly just means live with your choices whatever they are. However, Eren, Historia tend to see these things in big, sweeping dramatic narratives. So they think living with pride means, making these big decisions that affect the whole world. 

Basically, Eren and Historia are both lacking in pride because they see themselves as such little and insignificant people. So, they make choices that they think will give them pride. However, their ideas of pride also go hand in hand with unhealthy ideas of self sacrifice, taking everything on their shoulders alone, and also just... plain wanting to die. 

2. Family vs. Pride

Mikasa represents what Eren needs, but he thinks he can never have. Simply put, the narrative focuses on HIstoria’s connection to Eren when he talks about the unhealthy things he thinks he wants. Whereas, Mikasa always represents the connections in his life. 

Eren thinks he wants destruction. Eren thinks he wants hate. Eren thinks he wants to be the one to end the world. The same way that all along Eren thinks he’s wanted to kill all the titans. Eren’s moment of kissing the ring is shown again and again as the image associated with Eren coming to that decision. Whereas, Eren’s quiet moments of regret always linger around Mikasa. When he’s thinking of his friends happiness it’s Mikasa who is at the center of the picture looking towards him, at the same time as he’s about to go forward with Zeke and Historia, Zeke brings up the fact that MIkasa is probably just in love with him. 

Eren stops to ask Mikasa why she was following him around all this time. He asks Mikasa to see something in him that he can’t see in himself, because maybe, sort of he thinks it will give him a reason not to go if she can just soemhow say the right words to him. 

Everything human and vulnerable about himself he associates with MIkasa. When Eren is choosing to cut himself off from his friends so they cannot get in th way and stop him, and also he cannot stop himself he deliberately tries to make Mikasa hate him. He also states that he hates her. 

If Eren doesn’t love Mikasa. If Eren hates her in fact. Then Eren cuts off that vulnerability and weakness that might trip him up when he has to make the big decision to end the world. Eren is who he thinks he wants to be around Historia. Even when Eren breaks down in front of Historia, he’s still begging her to sacrifice himself so his death can save the world. 

There’s a parallel to these two scenes because Eren breaks down crying in front of both girls. 

Mikasa’s response is a gentle assertion that Eren didn’t need to be strong and protect her, he helped her just by being by her side, and living with her. It resembles Karla’s words that Eren doesn’t need to be anybody important, he’s already worthy of being loved just because he was born into this world.

Historia’s speech is much more complex than that, and it wavers between a selfless statement which is I will save someone crying if they are right in front of me that’s the way I want to live my life, and a much more selfish statement of LET’S FUCK THE WHOLE WORLD IF TI’S TELLING US TO SACRIFICE OURSELVES. However, I think it’s clear which part of the speech Eren picked up on, and it’s when Historia suggests they become the enemies of mankind together. 

Eren and Historia are people who desire to be loved for who they are, and be just normal people and have that be enough, but in the moment they will most often choose to be someone other than who they are. Mikasa makes the opposite choice of both of them. 

Mikasa chooses family over and over instead of pride. 

However, I don’t necessarily think this means that Mikasa is better as a person than HIstoria. It’s just what makes her different. Mikasa’s never really been insecure the same way Eren and Historia are. 

She already has plenty of pride, which is why it’s not a big concern for her. 

It’s also not a problem that HIstoria wants pride. That’s probably going to be the final and utlimate direction of her arc. It’s that HIstoria’s idea of living with pride is very messed up. She doesn’t know what living with pride is, and acts on what she thinks it is instead. 

Not only that Mikasa’s version of living with her family is very messed up as well. Mikasa has always, always, always been a very codpendent character. She thinks living with her family means prioritizing one person and following them around at the expense of everything else. She also thinks it’s fundamentally impossible to live without that person.

Mikasa’s primary difficulty as a character has always been finding some way to live on without Eren. However, she also wants to be close to Eren because she loves him. See it’s like a conflict. 

We’ve seen since Trost the conclusion she needs to reach that she can live on even without Eren. However, it’s difficult because Mikasa associates family, living, these things are things Eren gave her and not things she has for herself. It’s because these ideas are so tied up in Eren for her because of childhood trauma she has difficulty seeing them clearly.

She attributes too much of herself to Eren. Mikasa has difficulty seeing herself as a person apart from Eren, thus she becomes codependent. Mikasa wants family, but her idea of family is messed up and codependnet. Eren and Historia want pride, but their idea of pride is also messed up. 

However even though both girls are flawed, Mikasa is the one who represents the path of living. It’s been the central struggle of her arc since Trost. How can she continue to live in a world that is cruel. If Mikasa can’t do anything to make huge changes to the nature of the world, then how can Mikasa continue living inside of that world? 

For Eren there is two conflicting desires. There is what he thinks he wants and what will alleviate him of his struggles. That is, dying in a cool way. Then there’s what Eren actually needs which is to learn to live with himself and his flaws, and keep living even in a world that is far from his ideals. 

Eren at the moment is gravitating towards Historia. He chooses to confide his plan to destroy everything in her. He follows her words and decides to become the enemy of the world.

However, the one facing down a sea of titans to get to him is Mikasa. The one who ultimately stops him by reminding him of his humanity is going to be Mikasa. The one person who loves him as he is. Eren wants to be free from everything, but he’s forgotten that it’s your connections with other people that gives you the strength to carry on the burdens of life together and keep on living.