Do you have any plans for Moth Flight in your au? I always felt like she had a lot of potential, but her super edition…. Oh it’s bad. God forbid a disabled, young, single mom try to raise children and have a job at the same time. Too bad there was no one to help her when things got stressful, like you know, her clanmates… No women should have a job and children at the same time ever again.
If it wasn’t obvious that was sarcasm, Moth Flight’s story has awful implications. But! In BB Clerics Not being allowed to have kits wasn’t a law until the Ripple Era, it used to just be a personal vow and was a bit taboo. So I’m interested in of Moth Flight still had something to do with the creation of the vow itself? And just in general if you have any plans to fix her story or if you’re just throwing the whole thing out. (Which would be completely understandable.) I just think there IS potential there in her story, especially in BB where the Clerics Vow is actually ACKNOWLEDGED to not make sense and be bad. It could be interesting for the idea to rise from such a hyper specific, awful situation. The Clans having altered her story so much over the years that it went from the truth, “the first Cleric was a young, single mother of four, trying to raise her children while morning her husband and convincing the other Clans that they needed Clerics. The odds were against her.” To the perfect, Cleric’s Vow supporting lie, “the first Cleric had kits. She was unable to balance raising them and caring for her Clanmates. She taught the Clans a valuable lesson, a Clerics first and only duty should be healing and worshiping StarClan. Kits only get in the way of that duty.”
Idk, I just feel like there’s still an interesting story to tell somewhere through all of Moth Flight’s super edition’s bs. In the hands of a better writer who doesn’t ACTUALLY believe that Moth Flight’s genuinely tragic life means that all women who have jobs can never have children or get married again.
There's HUUGE overhauls here. I spoke about it eons ago during the last wave where I was discussing my changes to BB!DOTC, but let me give you the fragments thus far.
It's VERY different. Get ready for Moth Flight to be a completely different character.
MOTH FLIGHT'S VOW
She is no longer the child of Wind Runner. In fact...
She's the daughter of Wind Runner's shitty ex, Branch
Moth's other dad is Cloud Flight (prev. Cloud Spots). Since the Great Battle, Cloud has been wandering between the 5 groups as a sort of traveling doctor. It's a lot of work, there's only him and Dapple and an overwhelming amount of cats who need his skilled paws
So Moth Flight has always been a bit detached from people. I want her to actually have ADHD this time around, instead of it vanishing when it isn't convenient.
She kind of has Military Base Kid energy, hopping place to place with unresolved mental health issues. She probably bites ppl because I love weird girls
"papas can i bring my leeches" "honey no"
Cloud really wanted to train her to be a Medic the way he is, but... she has to learn how to do it her own way.
Branch doesn't help he's a goof and mostly interested in playing games with his baby.
I want to portray Branch as someone who's flighty, not another example of "before the Tribe cats came we were uncivilized heathens without society"
I also don't like his original narrative purpose to give Wind Runner trust issues that don't matter. If she had trust issues, what exactly was all that "please let me join ur group" about??
BB!Wind Runner is a breakaway from the River Kingdom, and the leader of the loosely united Moor cats. She created the Wind Coalition and is its intense, notoriously ruthless leader
So something eventually calls Cloud to do his work for the Wind Coalition
Branch: *SWEATS*
Cloud Flight: "..............branch. what did you Do"
Branch: "youre not allowed to be mad at me"
Cloud Flight: "tell me what you did and then we'll see if im mad at you"
The take might be controversial, but I do like the way that Windstar has problems with Moth Flight for no reason. I wanted to preserve it while removing it being yet another case of motherly child neglect, and more of a case of Wind Runner holding unfair grudges. I think it's good drama
Moth Flight's love of nature, herbs, and the natural world eventually prompts her to follow a Hairstreak Butterfly to the Moonstone. It leads her through the winding tunnels, a path that only Clerics will know how to navigate in the future, to the shimmering chamber in the middle.
Through her special connection to StarClan, drawing off the early cultural view of their ancestors as nature spirits (the fact that they are star spirits is a Park Cat contribution and all 5 leaders have their lives by this point), Moth Flight is able to come into her own as a holy speaker and healer. She begins to blur the line between holiness and healing, marked by how Clanmew has only one word for both concepts.
Hairstreak Butterflies also become known as a "herald" type of butterfly. I could get into the linguistics of this, but the old Tribemew word for moth/butterfly becomes the Clanmew word for sacred butterflies.
Micah is not supremely important anymore, but he's there. He doesn't become a healer in MFV, he's just Moth's mate.
But things begin to go wrong when her kittens are born.
All four children are born with a high connection to StarClan, just like their mother.
She takes it on herself to train them, as Cloud Flight had done with her, wiser from understanding that they would learn in their own ways.
Dapple and Cloud Flight never have this connection to star spirits, and they're growing old. Cloud is ready to retire, Dapple dies in some way before she's able to train a replacement
It begins to cause panic in the groups. It was bad with only two healers, but now everything is stretched even thinner.
SkyClan, notoriously violent, is the first to make the move. Skystar was not above the practice of Kit Stealing, taking Misty's kittens and giving them to Petal Claw for her loyalty ages ago.
Kit Stealing wouldn't become common until the creation of the Law of Loyalty, which is only a few years away, but it did exist before then.
They want a Mothkin kitten.
The Wind Coalition, of course, moves to fight and protect them. They call on ThunderClan, who can usually be relied upon
ThunderClan's request... they also want a Mothkin kitten. They need doctors too.
The River Kingdom and ShadowClan are also moving to take a kitten
EVERYONE needs a doctor, and they will fight and kill to get one. They all begin to realize... if they don't separate, there will be blood. People they love will die, and they'll be ripped apart anyway
Moth Flight, seeing this, BURNING with sorrow and fury at the violence of the Clans but knowing there is no other option, tells her children to make her a promise.
"That there will be no Mothkin after you. That you will never take a mate, or give your kidnappers more children. That you will remember that they were willing to kill their own families to steal you, and that you will be loyal the pursuit of life, virtue, and your sacred ability to heal above the cruel commands of the treacherous Clans."
Having accepted this, the family calls for an end to the fighting. Each child chooses a Clan to go to, and has their name changed.
ThunderClan: Spider Flight -> Spider Flight (no change)
SkyClan: Honey Flight -> Honey Pelt
RiverClan: Bubble Flight -> Bubbling Stream
ShadowClan: Blue Flight -> Blue Whisker
They're being shuffled based on which Clan they go to because it always bothered me that their names don't match their Clans, and also Spider Paw going to RiverClan when he has a phobia of water is insulting and I said no
So, TL;DR, this is a completely different story because DOTC is the one arc that I don't value "fixing." It needs a complete overhaul, imo.
This one would take place after Thunderstar's Justice, which immediately follows the First Battle. In terms of timeline, first is Hollyleaf's Century, 30 years later BB!DOTC begins and lasts several years, a few months after the First Battle begins Thunderstar's Justice, and then Moth Flight's Vow follows a year later.
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scarf girl & idiot boy
pairing: eren jaeger x mikasa ackerman
rating: t | read on ao3
summary: [Reincarnation AU. crackfic]
Eren is in his final year of high school. He's always been an imaginative kid but now his imagination won't seem to give him a break. As a result of intense flashbacks / dissociative episodes his therapist advises him to keep a journal, to get in touch with his emotions and let them all out.
Except it wasn't his imagination, these were his memories. Why doesn't anybody understand?!
…
“So, what about this girl?”
Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life.
And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”
Day 1
Mom bought this notebook for me and told me I’m supposed to write in it every day. Journaling, she said. It’s good for you, Eren. It’ll help you sort out all those thoughts in your head.
That’s what she called it. Thoughts in my head. That’s what she told the doctor the first time she brought me in. My son, you see, he’s a good kid. He’s got a lot of spirit. He’s very intelligent. But. And here was the kicker, there was always a but. He gets lost in his thoughts, sometimes. And then he doesn’t come out. Even if I shake him. I feel like he’s someplace else, you know.
Well, yes, it turns out the good doctor did know. Or he had some theories, anyway. ADHD was the top favourite, it was an easy one for Mom and Dad to digest. Tons of kids have it. It was one of those disorders that parents could swallow because it didn’t mean their kid didn’t have potential. It was a better alternative than plain delusional, I suppose.
I’d heard it my whole damn life.
Eren, you’re distracted.
Eren where’d you go off to?
Eren.
Eren.
Ereh.
I had one of those short names that people liked to use like punctuation. But nobody said my name right. It’s a peculiar thing, but I was convinced my name wasn’t meant to be pronounced with the full N, it was meant to end on a faint sound, somewhat breathy, somewhat feminine…
Ugh. This is the problem. None of it feels right, because I already know what is right. I’ve experienced it before. It’s in my memories. But nobody understands that. They say I have an active imagination. When I was a kid apparently I had an imaginary friend, too. A blonde wimp named Armin who needed my help to deal with bullies. When I was younger I believed it when Mom gently broke it to me that he wasn’t real, but now I’m not sure anymore. Sometimes when I stand in a group of friends, his sparkling blue eyes and his golden bowl cut feel more real than the faces in front of me.
But this is all I’ve got to figure it out. It’s you and me, motherfucker. So go on and do your Tom Riddle thing where you make sense of things to me, because I’m dying to hear it.
Day 3
I forgot to write yesterday because I’m not really good at keeping up with a habit. Or writing for that matter. I’m okay at school essays and like, some short stories I wrote as a kid were decent, but I never really thought of making a hobby out of it. And writing about myself too, why would I do that? I have to spend enough time inside this head of mine feeling absolutely crazy and out of control, I don’t know how writing down what’s in my head is supposed to make it any better.
But mom yelled at me to journal, so here I am.
She’s pissy because I turned up today with godawful marks on my french test, ten out of forty scribbled in big red letters. In my defence, I only attempted the first thirteen questions, because my brain kind of froze up mid-test when I got these weird flashes of sitting in a classroom with wooden desks and a crazy brown-haired person with goggles on their head trying to teach us about human-eating monsters. It sounds wild to me even as I write it, but trust me that shit was real. They were big and red and butt-ugly and I’m convinced that I’ve repressed some particularly traumatic memories of them breaking people in half like Twix and popping them in their mouths. I think the feeling of watching something like that never goes away, no matter how many lives you lead.
I’d like to imagine that if these really are my memories— because sure, I may be a visionary or whatever, but these visions were too clear— I was a badass hero leading the fight against these monsters, and eventually, my side won. Otherwise, what even was the point?
Day 4
I keep thinking about those fucking monsters. Journalling is doing something to me. It’s making me think about these things more and more. How else do I explain the pit in my stomach that’s refused to go away ever since I finished last night’s journal entry?
Why can’t I shake the feeling that I was so so wrong about something? What if I wasn’t the hero? Maybe I was just a massive fail and my dwindling grades are like, a mirror to the events of my past life or something.
Day 7
Whatever, I know I didn’t journal for two days and my last entry was just a pathetic scribble but I needed some time off. My therapist said this was supposed to help me get in touch with emotions not stress me the fuck out and make me never want to confront them again. Anyway, I took the weekend off, and actually spent my time trying to clear my head in more effective ways. Like smoking weed with my friend Maks.
Mom, if you’re reading this (I know you are, I saw you combing through my journal just yesterday, you’re so obvious) then please for the love of God, don’t get all weird and make passive-aggressive comments when you know already that I smoke. And don’t pretend that you don’t because you totally did. Why else would I eat that much? No teenage boy needs five helpings of your curry no matter how good it is, it’s because of the munchies. Now read further at your own risk, that’s all I’m saying.
So yeah, back to Maks. He always steals weed from his sister Laura, and wades straight into her bag without any concern for her privacy. I don’t know, but I always heard you aren’t meant to be rummaging in a girl’s bag (or anyone’s for that matter), so I just, like, stand outside and make polite conversation with her while he’s flicking her goods.
I guess that sounds bad, but you get it. Laura’s pretty and to be honest, I think she’s kind of sweet on me. She’s always kinda blushy when I talk to her and there’s no need to be, she’s twenty years old and I know she’s had boyfriends before. But she always gives me way more attention than what her idiot brother’s friend deserves. I’ve thought about asking her out on a date, but it seemed like a lot of effort when all I really wanted to know was if she kisses nice.
I thought about it a little more today when we were smoking with some of the other guys, on the rooftop of Peter’s part-time job. I couldn’t really discuss it with them openly because I didn’t think honesty was the best policy when it concerned getting into Maks’s sister’s pants, but I wish I could, because I was still a fucking virgin. I wanted to get laid and I think if I asked, Laura might say yes. I just didn’t know how.
And then I thought about it some more when I came back home and sank into my bed, stoned as fuck. I undid my jeans and opened up pornhub and scrolled through a bunch of thumbnails that all looked so fucking similar. And then, weirdly, I just shut my phone off and stared at the ceiling.
I think all the dilly-dallying about Laura stems from the fact that I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to fuck Laura. Maybe I was a virgin loser, but I was pretty certain I didn’t have… feelings for her. Like, she was nice and everything, but I didn’t like her. I know what it’s like to like somebody, I think. It’s crazy intense and kind of one-dimensional and a little bit like black hair and pink lips and a dark red scarf.(????)
What the fuck. Did I just write. Where did that even come from.
I’m done with this journalling thing, man. I’m out.
Day 9
I’m not happy about this, you know. I just want to be a normal teenage kid who jerks off to porn and maybe sleeps with his friend’s sister so he isn’t a virgin when he goes to college. That’s it. I have simple desires.
LEAVE ME ALONE SCARF GIRL.
Day 10
I can’t stop thinking about her. I wish I could think about the human-eating monsters again. At least that was morbidly fascinating. This just gives me a clawing, uncertain sensation in the pit of my stomach and doesn’t let up until my thoughts are filled with some Japanese girl with the prettiest eyes I have ever seen, and a body like I hadn’t even thought of fantasizing about. It’s crazy, I feel obsessed with somebody I haven’t even met. And I know this for sure because I went through all the class photos and I know nobody who looks like that.
Maybe I should talk to the doc again. I’m definitely delusional.
Day 11
I saw the doc again. He isn’t convinced that I’m having delusions despite my twenty-minute spiel about the biology of ugly monsters I keep dreaming of. I explained in great detail that they were weird as hell: They had this weird human anatomy but none of the fun bits, and they kept eating humans but they couldn’t digest them for some reason. So they’d keep eating people and then get too full and puke ‘em all out into a disgusting ball of human glump and continue their binge. It was like a bizarre take on the Capitol citizens from the Hunger games.
At the end of it, all he told me was that I should journal more and referred to me some creative writing workshops at the community college. And this was even before I even could tell him about the insanely beautiful girl with the red scarf that I haven’t stopped daydreaming about for three days now.
After coming home I got a little crazy and had a little meltdown about how nobody was taking me seriously which Dad thought was par for course for a seventeen-year-old, but Mom got a little snivelly. She came to my room later and gave me a hug and asked if I was acting out because I missed my birth parents. I didn’t know how to react to that so I just hugged her back and told her that I haven’t thought about them in years. Although now I wish I knew them a bit better, because maybe then I’d know for sure if I’m delusional or not because psychiatric disorders usually have genetic history.
The truth is, I don’t remember much about my birth parents. Mom and Dad have taken care of me since I was three, and apart from the fact that I’m a little weirdo in a family of two very normal, high-functioning adults, I’ve never felt like I didn’t belong here.
Mom, I love you even though you never respect my privacy and are currently reading this journal.
Day 12
I was googling “memories of past lives” and I somehow found myself on the Wikipedia for Hinduism. It’s a religion where people believe in having many lives. Everybody goes through birth, life and death and then rebirth again because this torture isn’t enough the first time apparently.
Is that what this is? I’m a cat with too many lives, now?
Day 13
I thought I’d found religion but I spent one day listening to a guru with 9.6 million Instagram followers and I’m convinced this shit will only make me crazier.
Anyway, midterms start in three days, and I know more about “samsara” than I do about Kirschoff’s laws, so see you later.
Day 20
I’ve hidden this stupid diary away and planted a fake where my mom keeps looking. I need my privacy, for fuck’s sake.
I had History today and I swear to God, I almost threw up when it came to answering the final question on the Holocaust (Ten fucking marks!!!). I started writing it, felt nauseous, excused myself to the bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror, came back only to ask to be excused all over again. Miss Jenny definitely thought I was cheating. She kept hovering over me after I came back, when I was too busy trying not to throw up on her.
It’s as if, every time I began to write about the Genocide of WWII, I could almost picture the innocents walking to their death. This is not to say that I don’t think what happened was absolutely terrible, but I cannot afford to get emotional during a fucking history exam.
What’s worse is every time I kept picturing this one boy… this tiny boy with an interesting cap on his head, who looked in my direction with the most puzzling expression. A smile, that then turned into confusion, which then turned into fear. As if I was the one responsible for not only his misery, but that of his entire people. I know it sounds absurd but I really wanted him to know that I felt terrible about what happened. I mean, I had nothing to do with the Holocaust, obviously, but I’m sorry he had to go through it. That anybody had to go through something as terrifying as being persecuted and demonized for something they had no control over.
I keep thinking about that boy. I wonder what his name was. I wish he could experience the world like I do, now. I wish he could be free too.
Day 25
I had math today and it was alright, I suppose. I’m not very good at it, so I can’t judge if I’ve done okay or not. I was more interested in History and Civics, Languages that type of thing. Right on my way to a life of making no money.
While walking back, I tried asking Maks what he thought about the History exam, and more specifically all our tutelage about the Holocaust.
“What do you mean, how do I feel about it? It’s all bad, obviously, you know that.”
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Of course it’s bad. But about why it’s bad. Do you ever, just, you know, feel really terrible about it? That so many people thought it wasn’t bad when it was happening?”
“I mean,” he said. “Not really. Because it’s not really something you have to think about. It’s obviously bad. We’ve been learning how bad it is, ever since we could read our ABCs. Why would I waste my time thinking about something that I already know is terrible? I already know it!”
I couldn’t argue with that logic anymore. I don’t know why I even bothered with Maks, because I already knew not much went on inside his head, but I didn’t have anyone else I could talk to. At times like this, I really miss Armin, the wimpy blonde in my head that I used to hang out with because I knew he would engage in meaningful conversation about this. He’d probably say something smart about propaganda or the power of narrative or something.
When I was a kid I was convinced that he was the smartest person on the planet (when he wasn’t even on the planet), because he knew all about Volcanoes and the Mariana Trench and the Sahara and all I knew was the Pokemon type chart. I knew it by heart, by the way. I still do.
I came home and my over-perceptive parents exchanged glances, probably signalling to each other that their kid really was a loser and that there wasn’t much hope. Then Mom hovered over me to an uncomfortable degree, making me want to scream. The thing is, I don’t even know what to tell her. Wasn’t I too old to be discussing feelings with her anyway?? How am I supposed to tell her with a straight face that I was bawling in the toilet after my exam because Ramzi was just a poor kid in the wrong place at the wrong time???
… Ramzi.
Who the fuck is Ramzi?
Day 30
Exams are over. I went with the boys for burgers after school, and we all hotboxed inside Peter’s car before heading over to the restaurant.
Maybe it’s the mood I’ve been in for the past couple of weeks, but I’m starting to realise that my friends are idiots. And I don’t mean that in the affectionate sense. Peter wants to go into Investment Banking but can’t pass math. He’ll probably keep working at the Mobile store.
Maks wants to be a cop. In this neighbourhood. I think the only crime we have around here is bicycle theft and no cop ever helps you get your bike back. You just fork out twenty bucks to buy somebody else’s stolen bike from the shady dudes near the central station. The same ones that lurk in the shadows asking if you want a bike, the same way thugs ask if you want drugs. Bikes are like a community commodity around here. It all goes into the same pool and everybody dips into it.
Hamza wants to help his dad out at his falafel shop and to be honest, that’s the most honourable thing to come out of the lot of us. If you ask me, it’s the best food in town.
But they’re all just so…!!! They make me want to tear my hair out. They seem so okay with everything. With themselves. With their families. With this silly little town. Nothing will change for them after they finish school, and they’re perfectly content with that.
When I was ranting about this to dad over dinner, he asked me, with his little indulgent smile, “Well then, what do you want to do Eren? How are you going to make your life more significant than your friends?”
I was stumped. The truth is I’ve never really pictured anything beyond this, beyond my teenage years. I’ve never once thought about what it would be like to be an actual adult. Huh.
Day 31
I can’t sleep. I keep dreaming. My dreams are flashes of people’s faces, blood and large horrifying caricatures of human beings whose faces are stuck in a terrifying smile. It’s 3:23 and I woke up crying because my mind seemed fixated on this one woman who was struggling in the monster’s grasp before she was broken in two and tossed in its mouth.
And when I woke up, I felt the wisps of a soft feminine voice ask me, “Why are you crying, Eren?” I wanted to reach out and hold on to her, beg her to tell me what was going on. But the more I rubbed the tears from my eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was scarf girl.
Why? I couldn’t tell you. Once I wake, my dreams slowly begin to lose clarity, fading into the noise of the real world and making me doubt my sanity more than ever. But this time when I woke, I felt the lingering sensation of long tresses brushing my face as somebody loomed over me. The strings of wool from a fluffy red scarf. The voice of somebody I was dying to hear.
Day 38
Yo. it’s been a while. Lots of things have happened since I last wrote here.
We had term break and I’ve been working on the Weber’s shed (they’re paying me for the help). Honestly, the last set of dreams I had really fucked me up, so when Maks asked me to help with sawing wood, hammering things into place and just in general, not think, it sounded like a great plan.
And if I had to stand in the sun without a shirt on when I knew Laura would be looking, I didn’t mind. Well, actually, I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw her staring out her window, right at me.
I suppose I could write a whole story about how we had conversations with our eyes and licked lollipop ice candies on her porch together where I saw a little drop of candied water fall onto her chest and in between her cleavage, thereby making me want to lick it off of her skin, etc, but it really wasn’t that poetic. I was shirtless, and she was wearing her tiny warm-weather shorts, lips purple from the ice candies we had just gobbled down, and I guess she just asked me one time why I’d never made a move. I didn’t have an answer for her apart from making a move then and there, and some minutes later we ended up in her bedroom with me on my back and her tits dangling in my face.
Tl:dr; I slept with Laura. I know it’s something I said I wanted some time ago, but as soon as we were done, I couldn’t separate our bodies fast enough. Brown hair matted across her forehead as she looked at me with expectation in her eyes. I couldn’t even look at her. The general public might crucify me as an asshole, but I just felt weird inside. She kept looking at me the entire time, large, soft brown eyes staring into mine as her hair spread all over me as she rode me.
I suppose I did alright for a first time; I got off, she orgasmed first so I guess that’s a success. Laura was quite self-sufficient at the whole sex thing, honestly, it was as if she used me to get off and I let her. It all felt like a scam to me, instead of being excited about grabbing my first pair of tits all I could think was that this wasn’t right. There was an unfamiliarity about Laura that unsettled me, and I’m not sure what it was. But every time she scolded me affectionately, or brought my hands to her body to show me what she liked, I felt a little bit nauseous.
And when she scrambled for the bedsheets after and asked if everything was alright, I had never felt like a bigger fuckup.
“I thought you enjoyed it,” she said, her voice getting a little bit high and somewhat accusatory. “You came right? I was pretty sure you came.”
“I did, yeah. It’s not that, Laura, the sex was… you were, I mean, it was all very nice. I just… maybe I don’t feel well. I’m sorry.” (NICE!! God, I’m such a fuckin idiot)
“You seemed pretty well when you stuck your tongue in my mouth and felt me up over my bra.” Every word she said just made me feel worse.
“Do you have a girlfriend or something?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose while I struggled with the most obvious, factual answer. But instead, with guilt burning my cheeks, all I said was, “... or something.”
Day 39
After telling Laura that the sex was “nice,” I’ve been holed up in my room wondering, not for the first time, what the fuck was wrong with me.
When I went down to have my muesli in the morning, Mom trapped me into a conversation. “You’ve been so dull lately, sweetheart,” she said, with her usual concern. It’s at times like this that I wish she would stop piling on the verbal concern and just bully the doctor into giving me some medication. Surely I could get some good ol’ pills for these hallucinations and I’d be okay.
Instead, in keeping with my latest tradition of saying things I have not thought through, I blurted out, “Mom, did you always know you were going to be married to Dad?”
She looked taken aback for a second. “Is that what’s got you down? Love problems? Oh, honey—”
“Just answer the question, Mom. Don’t psychoanalyse.”
“Well, not really, Eren. You see, I love your father very much, but I met him only when I was twenty-seven, and I’d had my fair share of experimentation and mistakes by then.”
I nodded vigorously. See, this was normal.
“Is there somebody on your mind?”
I debated telling her for a split second, but my impulsiveness got the better of me. “I suppose there is, yeah.”
“Is it somebody I know?” Mom probed gently. She probably expected a different answer, because she’s been giving these sly smiles wherever Laura was concerned for a while now, so when I said, “Not really,” she blinked at me in surprise.
“The thing is, even I don’t really know her. Not exactly in the way you would usually know somebody, I mean.”
She blinked at me some more, looking as confused as I sounded. “There’s this girl,” I told her, my voice dropping down to a whispered mumble, “... this Japanese girl, I think, she keeps showing up in my dreams.”
“You mean the same dreams as the one with the monsters…?” She asked, carefully keeping her voice neutral.
If anything, my mother has always listened to me, I’ll give her that. “They’re called titans, apparently.” Crucial information from my last night’s terrors. “And yeah. The same ones. I think. I really do think they’re all set in the same world.”
The more I listen to myself, the more I feel like I’m describing some kind of fantasy role-playing game.
“So, what about this girl?”
Right, Eren. What about this girl? As my mother asked me that, I was struck with this ridiculous urge to prattle on about how she had a scar on her right cheek, a mole right beneath that, and even though she usually kept her hair short, long hair was simply gorgeous on her. She was humanity’s strongest, and so fucking smart, she was incredible. She could do anything and excel at it; she was one of those people that you could trust with your life.
And how is it that despite not really knowing this girl, I knew so much about her? Fuck if I know. The only thing I did know, however: “I think she’s my wife. Sort of.”
Mom was speechless. “I know you think I’m crazy, Mom,” I told her. “But I just. I know it. Inside.” I sounded crazier with every word I said. Mom’s expression grew more pitying by the minute.
She caressed my hair with a sad sort of affection in her eyes. “You’re really struggling with this, aren’t you, Eren?”
My shoulders slumped; I felt defeated. I could see that she wasn’t taking me seriously, again. Well, what did I expect? If a seventeen-year-old told his mother that he was dreaming about a girl he didn’t even know, but somehow knew that she was his wife?? Man, even I couldn’t take myself seriously.
Day 41
Aside from being totally mortified, that conversation with Mom did bear fruit. I don’t know what she told the doc, but when I went for my appointment today, I left with an assortment of pills that were supposed to make me “feel better.”
I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t feeling depressed, just crazy, but by this time I’m willing to try anything. So here goes nothing!!
Day 46
I’ve been taking the pills for five days now, but nothing feels different. The doc says it takes some time for my body to react. I don’t really understand it because I’m usually the impulsive, reactionary type, but okay I guess. When it comes down to it, your brain just runs on a bunch of chemicals and these medicines are supposed to help me balance out the equations. (Doc's words, not mine.)
Today when we walked back from the grocery store, I saw an Asian family loading their trunk with groceries. There was an elderly couple and a woman (I think), who was doing most of the heavy lifting. Mom was grumbling about how chickpea pasta wasn’t a good enough way to boost her protein, but for some reason, that family caught my attention. I found myself craning my neck to get a look at the woman whose back was all I could see (a nice back, if I must say).
Mom thumped me lightly on the shoulder and asked what the hell I was doing.
It was kind of embarrassing because I know what it looked like. That I was busy checking out some woman’s ass with my mom right next to me. But it wasn’t that, I promise.
I mumbled an apology. But when we went further Mom suddenly looked at me all funny and was like, “Eren. You shouldn’t fetishize people, you know.”
Naturally, I was gobsmacked?!??!???
Turns out, Mom put two-and-two together; first my “imaginary” (I didn’t like it when she said that, by the way. There was nothing imaginary about this woman. She was real. Our relationship was real.) wife, and then this Asian-looking family. Ridiculous! I did not think today was the day I’d get schooled by my mother about having an Asian fetish!!
Anyway, school starts tomorrow and I’m nervous because we’ll be getting our grades and term papers back. (Blegh)
Day 47
I feel like I’m about to explode. I have so many feelings, holy shit, I’m literally in the middle of class as I write this, I don’t even know where to begin.
In an effort to start at the beginning, here goes:
I THINK I’VE FOUND SCARF GIRL.
AND SHE’S MY FUCKING MATH TEACHER ASLFADFKDSGL
I walked into school expecting the same old boring drivel as every other term, and mostly the morning had implied exactly that. Kris complimented my hair (I’d grown it longer despite my father’s insistence about cutting it, simply because I felt I wasn’t rebelling enough. I was a teenager after all, I’ve to pay my dues.) and it felt nice, because at least something was different.
We had different classes and got back papers in each class, and my eyes glassed over pages and pages of mostly ok answers, but largely silly mistakes, and the big red circle indicating my very average grades. My classmates queued up to the teacher’s desk to try and get a better grade but I didn’t really care much for it.
History, as I predicted was a shitshow thanks to my brain, but I seem to have made up for my earlier performance in French, thanks to a solid hour of concentration in the exam.
Math was the last class of the day, and predictable Mr Hofferman, our grumbly old Math teacher was late. He was never late. He was one of those annoying teachers who was five minutes early, and would start his lesson as soon as the clock allowed him to, whether the rest of us had even sat down or not.
Ten minutes later— when the class had dissolved into little groups, girls sitting on the desks with their skirts bunched up high, boys chewing gum loudly even though we weren’t allowed to, complaining about how Mr Hofferman was for sure going to fuck all of us up with a ridiculously harsh marking scheme— a lady stumbled in, her hair looking wind-worn, in a pretty pink sweater and grey slacks. “Is this 4B,” she mumbled mostly to herself, craning her neck to see the door and confirm that it was, indeed, 4B. “Right, it is.” And then, in a most unusual turn of events, she set her books down and looked at us straight in the eye, and gave us the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen.
I don’t know about the others, but it took me several moments to recover.
She gave us a small, shy wave, and a little bow, and introduced herself as Mika Akkerman. Her mother was Japanese and her father was Japanese-German, and after retiring, her father wanted to come back to the little town where he was from. She told us she was very excited to teach us from now on, and in an absolutely adorable accent asked us to “please treat me well.”
There was such a violent shudder in my heart at that moment, I swear to God that I thought I was going to die.
After that, she gave the sweetest little laugh, pushed her hair back behind her ear and said, “Although, giving you your test results is probably not the best way to start a good relationship.”
As if I weren’t absolutely decimated by her beauty alone, what I saw at that moment threw me for a loop.
There was a scar. On her cheek. And a little mole right underneath it.
As I lay stumped in my seat, my mind racing a million miles per hour, trying to even grasp the implications of everything that lay in front of me, Miss Mika took her seat and began to go through our term papers, one by one. She decided she would call us all to the front, to introduce ourselves, so she could more personally explain her assessment.
“Eren,” she said, when it finally came to my turn, “Jaeger?”
Idiot that I am, I stayed motionless until Maks ribbed me and said, “Stop spacing out, Jaeger, it’s your turn.”
But I wasn’t spacing out. I don’t think I was ever more aware, or more present than in that fucking moment. The way she said my name, it finally felt right. Not Erren, Or Erin, Or Erain, But Ereh, kind of with the n a little bit silent, just a little breathy noise from her tiny nose, sounding kind of intimate like she’d spent a lifetime saying my name that way.
She shook my hand, as she seemed to have done for every student, and fixed me with those gorgeous grey eyes. I was probably trembling like a fucking loser. (This is not how I wanted to reconnect with my wife!!!!)
“You have a nice name,” she said, thoughtfully. “It’s interesting that you have styled it in the American way.”
That’s when I looked down at my paper. I’d signed it Eren “Yeager”. Which I never do, usually. My name is Eren Jäger; we usually understand the umlauts around here. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I told her truthfully. It was the understatement of the year.
She then gave me a polite smile (it was so pretty, I swear, every time she smiles, I feel like a character straight out of a shoujo manga replete with heart eyes), and proceeded to walk me through my math paper.
I have no fucking clue what she said because all I could think about was that her voice was so nice. And every time she said my name I felt my cheeks grow hot.
In the end, she looked at me sweetly and said, “Well, don’t be discouraged, Ereh. Math is all about learning a few tricks and then you’ll master it, no doubt.” Which was excellent because now I was certain that I hadn’t left a particularly wonderful impression with my paper. Despite that, it appears my shamelessness reached new heights when she asked me if I had any questions, and all I felt compelled to ask was, “How old are you, exactly?”
She blinked at me, and then stuttered a nervous laugh. “I always forget how direct everybody is around here. I’m 23.” And then, as if that was the real problem here, she said spiritedly, “But don’t underestimate me! What I lack in experience, I make up for with enthusiasm!”
Oh boy. I didn’t doubt it.
Now I’m back in my seat, barely acknowledging my dismal performance both academically and socially. My brain is buzzing restlessly. I can barely pay attention to anything that is being said to me (because, Mikasa wasn’t talking to me, it was mostly just Maks and Peter grumbling about their grades).
All I can think is… What the fuck?
I’ve never had a fully clear picture of the woman from my dreams but I know with startling clarity that this is her. I know it with my whole being. I knew it when she walked into class, when I saw her scar, when I heard her speak, when her eyes met mine. It’s like a flash went through my body, when we shook hands.
This isn’t normal. But does it really matter?
Because I think I’ve found my wife.
Day 46 contd
I have more updates.
As class ended, Mikasa piled up her books and then embarrassedly mumbled that she was still new here, and that perhaps she would get lost and in a twist of what is surely fate, she called out, “Eren Jaeger, do you think you might be able to help me find my way to the Teacher’s lounge?”
Of course, I would. I would do anything for her, she just didn’t know it yet.
As we walked there, I learnt some things about her. She didn’t like silences, she found them awkward. Which was just as well, because after she broke the first one with some polite comment about what a lovely school we had, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My only exposure to Japanese culture is from my interest in anime, and from what little I know, I’m pretty sure she thought I was completely rude and out-of-turn.
In a span of a few minutes, I asked her how long she’s been in town (just a week), where she came from (Kyoto), and whether she’s already settled (if she needed any help, she could feel free to ask me, you know). I tried my best to get a glimpse of her fingers but couldn’t, but I was pretty sure when we shook hands that I didn’t feel any rings. So she wasn’t married.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or a partner. Or a fucking dog, that took up all her attention, I don’t know.
As I stood near her little desk in the teacher’s lounge as she talked about how different the weather was here compared to Japan, I felt fucking crazy. It’s only been forty-five minutes since I’ve seen her, but I want to know everything about her. I want to know what I’ve missed out on for so many years, and I want to make up for the fact that she was brought into the world five years too early.
I had this creepy desire to tell her that nothing mattered anymore, because she and I were meant to be together. Eventually, I got out of my head, and as I began to walk her to the school gates, I realised that this was the end of our time together today. She would go home, and probably not think of me for the rest of the evening, while I spent every waking moment (and probably my sleeping ones too) filled with thoughts of her. “Why did you come here, Mikasa?”
“Ah, like I said, my father was born here and wanted to come back, so—“
“But why now? Why to this school? Why did you decide to come with them?”
She stuttered an answer at first, but then slowly her eyes narrowed at me. She watched me silently for a moment before she murmured, “Ereh, I never told you my name was Mikasa.”
Shit.
“My name is Mika Akkerman. And I’m your teacher,” she said, her voice strained. There was an antsy, faraway look in her eye, as she spoke. “… You should talk to me with respect.” And then she turned around and left.
I ran back home, straight to my room and as I write this, I’m still shaking.
I don’t know why I called her Mikasa.
I don’t know why I spoke to her in such a familiar way.
I don’t know why when I look at her I felt like I’ve been waiting for so long, and that she has finally returned to me.
All I know is that I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’ve memorised that face, and I’ve listened to that voice so often, I would know it even as I lay in my grave. I’ve felt that skin against mine before, the same skin that held my hand so firmly today.
More than anything I knew that this was scarf girl. And the universe had finally brought us together.
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My OC Descriptions!
Thank you so much for your positive responses, @dasjansel @corvid-moon @teeny-weeny-ducklings @technoxslayer360 @incoherentmoose and @cake-and-roses ! Since you guys asked, I made overall descriptions of my OCs and a bit of a synopsis. Sorry it's so long! I hope you enjoy it and please provide feedback!
This is a story that takes the "chosen ones" and fantasy tropes and turns them on their heads. The main character never accepts his role. The guy doesn't get the girl. There's no prophecy or guide. The populace thinks they're monsters, not heros. Their powers are explained scientifically. They have to help themselves emotionally so they can help others physically. It's just a bunch of young adults with problems getting into shenanigans, figuring out life's lessons, and maybe saving the world.
Name: Adrian
Age: 18
Height: 5'8"
Gender Identity: Male
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Bisexual (Feminine leaning)
Race: Human
Ethnicity: German/Portugese
Neurodivergent: Narcissistic Personality Disorder
Active Power: Super strength
Passive Power: Truth (Ability to see through illusions, understands foreign languages, can tell when someone is lying, etc)
Activating Emotion: Courage
Associated Color: Yellow/Gold
Associated Element: Air/Wind
Description: This rich, all-American, high school boy has had a near perfect life growing up until a burglar breaks in his home. Thankfully, he stops the villain… by tackling him through an oak door! First hailed as a hero, his social life then gets thrown into disarray as this new found strength that seems to randomly come and go ends up earning him the reputation of a destructive menace. On top of that, he starts passing out and having "visions." Doctors say he's having seizures, but these visions feel more real than his life ever has, and it's always of the same place, a magic lab where he's the experiment! His visions keep getting worse until one day he fully wakes up in the lab and escapes, but now he can't go back home!
Adrian finds out he's stuck in the world of Mythos, the parallel Earth where all of our fantastical dreams come from, and he's not happy about it! And the locals don't seem happy about him either. Just wanting to get this over with and go home, Adrian faces more ugly reality in this fantasy world than he ever did in his privileged life in our world. With no guides or prophecies and regarded as a monster, Adrian has to figure out how to find others like himself to help him save the world and go back home.
Adrian is the self-proclaimed leader of the group. He's obnoxious, self-centered, and stubborn, and completely uninterested in helping unless it benefits him somehow. You are supposed to dislike him at first. He matures and becomes much more open-minded and accepting through the journey.
Initial Motivation: To get back home
Journey: Breaking out of your bubble is more important than staying in it, others suffer in a way different from you, you cannot speak for others, use privilege to help those that don't have privilege, attraction to anyone who shows femininity or doing female-assigned tasks/behaviors (being kind, showing emotions, being vulnerable) does not make you less of a man, the greatest strength is facing the truth
Name: Iola
Age: 20
Height: 6'2"
Gender Identity: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Lesbian
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Afro-Columbian
Neurodivergent: Anxiety
Active Power: Shield
Passive Power: Acceleration/Regeneration (Subconsciously heals others, requires focus if needs boost in power, ie, if someone is bleeding out. Can cause things to grow, but also age. Cannot remove poisons/curses, cannot bring people back to life, conditional)
Activating Emotion: Care
Associated Color: Pink/Orange
Associated Element: Earth/Wood
Description: Iola's life had been pretty quiet since she and her dad started a farm out in the wilderness, until a strange boy pops up who brings a whole lot of unwanted attention. She stumbles upon her own powers as she defends her home, and then sets out to find others with Adrian.
Iola is the mom of the group, both the good parts and the bad. She is kind and caring and helpful and also stressed af and sometimes pokes her nose where she's not welcome. It's suggested at first that she may be the Adrian's love interest, but, surprise! She only likes girls. She seems to have lost someone precious to her, and it's not her mom.
Initial Motivation: Believes in following destiny
Journey: Self-sacrifice is not always necessary, mediation is more important than appeasement, give without expectation of return, worthy of just existing, important to take care of self in order to take care of others, rest is a type of work and just as important as being active
Name: Emlyn
Age: 21
Height: 6'0"
Gender Identity: Androgynous
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Pansexual
Race: Human
Ethnicity: Northern Irish
Neurodivergent: Complex PTSD, Depression
Active Power: Chemical Reaction (Interaction of two or more substances that results in different substances. Can only initiate reaction, cannot control the outcome. Usually uses fire as a weapon, but can use others. Can also stop reaction in process, but cannot reverse.)
Passive Power: Psychic (Ability to sense when others are nearby, can receive symbolic messages through dreams, not prophetic)
Activating Emotion: Passion
Associated Color: Deep blood red
Associated Element: Fire
Description: Emlyn finally seems to have found a home at the inn he works at when two strangers pop up with trouble following them. He unleashes his powers to defend them, but his loved ones reject him when his secret is exposed. With nowhere else to go, he tags along with Adrian and Iola, the only people who seem to accept him how he is. However, he harbors a terrible secret that he's hellbent on taking to the grave, and it creates a division between himself and the others.
Emlyn is very quiet and reclusive. He doesn't talk much, and seems to be insistent on covering as much skin as possible at all times. He's not the angry or brooding type, but surprisingly polite and soft spoken. And surprisingly strong. However, he seems like he'll do anything to avoid using his powers, and almost seems scared of them. Adrian bullies him frequently, threatened by the fact that he's attracted to Emlyn. Emlyn doesn't seem to care, but eventually lashes out, showing a very different, vicious side.
Initial Motivation: Redemption
Journey: The past is the past, use mistakes to learn and teach, secrets create unnecessary burden, it's okay to have darkness, do not let negative emotions rule over logical decisions, take both capabilities and lack of into account, sometimes you just can't do what you want even if others can, you are not damned
Name: Liesel
Age: 82
Height: 5'0"
Gender Identity: Genderfluid
Pronouns: She/Her, He/Him, They/Them
Sexuality: Abrosexual
Race: Fairy/Changeling
Ethnicity: Jewish
Neurodivergent: Autistic
Active Power: Freedom (Ability to unlock anything, create doors/portals with conditions)
Passive Power: Choice (Can tell what someone has decided before they act on it, very useful in combat; can see what future "paths" can be taken but cannot tell outcomes)
Activating Emotion: Hope
Associated Color: Sky blue
Associated Element: Water
Description: Liesel has had to protect her people for decades, so she's more than a bit reluctant to leave with some humans to go on some adventure. When she realizes that she needs to, she goes with them, but completely mistrusts them.
Where Iola and Emlyn are more passive, Liesel is even more aggressive than Adrian. She challenges everything Adrian knows and really gets him to start looking at things differently. They develop a weird rivalry dynamic and eventually soften up with each other.
Initial Motivation: Protect her people
Journey: Evil does not originate from the same place, no group of people are all the same, there's a difference between honesty and being cruel
Name: Uri
Age: ??? (They tell a different number every time they're asked)
Height: 5'4"
Gender Identity: Agender
Pronouns: They/Them
Sexuality: Asexual
Race: Dragon
Ethnicity: Nigerian
Neurodivergent: N/A
Active Power: Light Manipulation (Can be used to make self or others invisible, create illusions, blind someone, etc. Does not actually makes things disappear/materialize, just makes it look like it.)
Passive Power: Compulsion (Redirects electrical impulses between neurons. Makes people think certain things, somewhat like intrusive thoughts. The more impulsive someone is, the easier they are to manipulate. Often accidentally shares own thoughts with others. Usually uses for persuasion among foes and to pull pranks among friends. Cannot read minds.)
Activating Emotion: Elation
Associated Color: Emerald green
Associated Element: Metal
Other: Disabled/Born without wings
Description: Uri's just minding their own business, napping on top of their treasure trove when some adventurers break in. Those same adventurers open that weird lock contraption they've been trying to open for the last two centuries. Interesting. Rather than confronting the adventurers, Uri decides to join them in hopes of making sure their treasure doesn't get destroyed, to find some more, and to enjoy some chaos along the way.
Uri is confident, charasmatic, and devilishly handsome. They only care about their treasure, but slowly finds themself caring about the others.
Initial Motivation: To protect their treasure
Journey: Self-preservation includes helping others, happiness is worth going the long way for, people have different paths to the same goal and that's okay
Name: Oriana
Age: 19
Height: 5'6"
Gender Identity: Demigirl
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Pansexual
Race: Human?
Ethnicity: Cherokee
Neurodivergent: ADHD
Active Power: Sonic/Song
Passive Power: Empath (Ability to sense motives, can literally share emotions when making physical contact, can transfer powers between people)
Activating Emotion: Love (Both romantic and platonic)
Associated Color: White/Purple
Associated Element: Spirit/Aether
Other: Intersex
Description: Oriana has been waiting at the edge of the Ancient Forest for a long time. She doesn't remember why, but she knows she needs to guide five adventurers through the massive forest that covers half the world. For some reason, she's the only one who can survive traversing it.
Oriana is sweet and kind and too naive for her own good, having never been exposed to civilization or other people before. She seems to have a mind of a child, but has the wisdom and understanding of someone who has been alive for a very long time. Emlyn develops a crush on her due to her friendly and accepting nature and eventually confides in her. Their past is far more intertwined than either of them remember, and is the answer to why this is all happening.
Initial Motivation: Because she was asked to
Journey: Evil lives in everyone, purity is non-existent, be kind to those who "don't deserve it" without allowing self to be walked on, different facets of love
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