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naruhearts · 4 years

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I’m done keeping my composure.

Sorry, this will be a LOADED post! (And I’ll be repeating the points others have made)

for real, to everyone being nasty and telling heartbroken fans that “Dean was always supposed to die get a grip you’re just butthurt etcetera etcetera—” F you royally.

How dare you police the brutal feelings that’s been embroiling us since the Finale That Must Not Be Named aired.

The show you think you all watched, the show you all believe was the same SPN from Season 1-4, changed at some point. Kripke wrote his original vision, put it to screen, saw it through in S5 as he intended, and closed the door on that era.

In 2008, Supernatural was adopted and inherited. As you know, there was a supreme paradigm shift post-Kripke era. The show FLOURISHED (we won’t talk about Gamble thanks). It evolved, transformed, grew beyond trauma-induced self-worthlessness and toxic masculinity and endless death and hegemonic social ideals and conservatism and repressive anti-revolutionary ideas. Castiel, the iconic favourite and beloved staple of the series portrayed by Misha Collins, was introduced in Season 4 as the core lead character, and he ushered in a brand new era of Christian mythos that SPN took advantage of. Longevity SKYROCKETED. Audiences were INTERESTED. SPN amassed an incredibly groundbreaking fanbase infused by non-nuclear principles. A massive subversive wave began, fighting the Status Quo of the times since 2008. It’s precisely why such an abysmal ending to a show of extensive Freud-Jungian metanarratively meta META complex stature and social POWER will render us totally and unbearably broken for years to come.

Point is, DEAN WINCHESTER NO LONGER WANTED TO DIE. HE WANTED TO LIVE. HE WANTED TO SIT ON THE BEACH, PLUNGE HIS TOES IN THE SAND, AND SIP UMBRELLA DRINKS WITH HIS BROTHER AND HIS BEST FRIEND. He said this in Season 13. And then, a season later, he told the ghost of his long-deceased father — the source of his deep-running trauma and the figure of self-reductive authoritarianism permeating his arc since Season 1 — after being questioned why he didn’t pursue the Nuclear Fam, that he already has his own: his brother Sam, his adopted child Jack, and Cas.

Dean’s best friend Cas. Oh god, Cas, who made his inevitably permanent mark on Dean’s soul beyond allyship. Castiel, renamed to Cas, God’s -iel removed by Dean. Dean, the human spark that lit the fire of pre-existing autonomy in the inherently rebellious angel who was, this entire time, the catalyst for free will in God The Writer’s puppet show. Their friendship set on goddamn fire. I can also write paragraph upon paragraph about my love for Cas while devastated tears stream down my face, but I digress—

Cas’ romantic love for Dean pushed our main Heart of SPN to love himself. Love is free will. Free will is also love. Of note, Cas’ love confession in 15x18 was supposed to offset something so vastly important and fundamental...to maybe (read: most likely) pull the trigger on SELF-TRUTHS in conjunction with free will. And The Great Anticipated Follow-Up to the episode penned by the passionate Berens should have included (read: seemed like it was going to be) Dean, closeted trauma survivor in love with his best friend, being given the opportunity to do it right: to SPEAK HIS TRUTH, and then that very singular opportunity was STOLEN so grossly. After poring over it for days, I refuse to believe we made their years-long story up out of thin air, spun it out of fantastical-delusional dream cotton candy, because we DIDN’T. IT WAS REAL.

As I said in another post: “I’ve just been feeling physically ill for the past >40 something hours with the terrible knowledge that 19/20 undid years of vital progression towards healthy interdependence, autonomy, and a positive endgame, where Sam, Dean and Cas close the ring of found family in final empowering self-fulfillment...where Dean, no longer repressed and set free, is able to use his words and speak his truth as a queercoded trauma survivor, henceforth confirming and self-affirming his own bisexuality since S1 by reciprocating — by telling Cas that he always loved him, too, loved him endlessly, which would have altogether divested Supernatural of its cult status and catapulted it into global worldwide significance as the longest running sci-fi genre show in American broadcasting history that actually dared to defy and, by proxy, empower LGBTQ2IA+ everywhere who found profound personal meaning in Destiel through VALIDATION,” — found themselves mirrored in Dean and Cas’ respective character journeys individually and as each other’s queer love interests.

THIS IS WHY DEAN WASN’T MEANT TO DIE.

THEY WERE SO ESSENTIAL, NOT JUST TO THE OVERARCHING STORY AND HEALTHY INTERPERSONAL THEMATICS OF MODERN SPN, BUT ALSO TO THE SOULS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE ACROSS THE WORLD WHO FOLLOWED THEIR JOURNEYS, HOPED FOR THEM, ASPIRED TO BE LIKE THEM, TREASURED THEM, WEEPED FOR THEM, AND FOUGHT FOR THEM, LIKE YOU AND ME.

Heck, how could anyone think Sam Winchester had a well-deserved characteristic ending? He didn’t. Dean’s brother was shafted so badly. He stopped hunting when seasons ago, he had canonically accepted that he no longer wanted an apple pie life. He simply...turned the lights off in a resoundingly empty bunker and left — abandoning his dead brother’s room — never to return (he did return later to get the Impala, family photos etc, I mean this symbolically)...as if — dare I say it — Supernatural itself eerily told us, in the negative-spaced pitch blackness, that the organic show and the wonderfully complex, matured characters we’ve grown to love weren’t going to survive or be revisited...that it was all going to perish, and that they no longer gave a single shit about their own show, which, to me, is the worst cardinal sin, because how dare they throw Team Free Will, an immovable and indomitable and passionate found family they built from the ground up, a found family CHOCK FULL TO THE BRIM OF LOVE AND LIFE RAGING AGAINST THE AUTHORITARIAN MACHINE IN ORDER TO ACHIEVE FREE WILL, under the bus no matter who is to blame. Growth was stomped on.

Then Sam married a faceless wife who wasn’t his textually established (and deaf) love interest Eileen, named his son Dean Jr., and grew old miserably, still mourning the passing of his older brother, shaken and sombre. Back to square one. IT WAS ALL ANTITHETICAL, even OUTSIDE a shipping context, and I ripped my hair out at this point in sheer disbelief.

This 15x20 ending would have fit somewhere between S4-7. Now? IT DOESN’T FIT. IT’S A JAGGED PUZZLE PIECE THAT DOESN’T BELONG ANYWHERE. IT’S THE FOREBODING UNKNOWN STRANGER IN ITS OWN LAND, BOTH LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY. This kind of ending was basically an illogical, unsound cluster of metastasized cells that, to me, ruined the viability of previous seasons to sustain bold praise and respect and dignity and rewatches and classic nostalgia in such insidious ways.

Dean Humanity Winchester and Cas, after everything they’ve been through, were silenced and lost in death, ripped apart from each other, unable to love each other the way they deserved, because of disappointing, vile incompetency and homophobia. The greatest love story ever told, again obliterated in less than 60 hollow minutes.

You know what this tells your audience, CW SPN? Death without self-growth is the way to go, and no one is allowed to forge their own path to freedom.

HOW INSULTINGLY HARMFUL IS THAT?

I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving.

We all deserve answers.

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vinylhazza · 3 years

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For Keeps (G.D)

Summary: Jesse knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to say it, or rather demand it. Grayson, who carries respect and dignity like a shield of armor, walks the line of being the vanilla boyfriend he always thought she’d want, or the guy that listens to the devil on his shoulder and embellishes on the fantasies that won’t leave him alone every night. There is a first for everything, a time and place to try something -- or some one new. There is a chance to set the fire in motion. He might just take it.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning: Strong sexual content, giving head, fingering, spitting, explicit language

There is a first for everything.

The first time you ride a bike, the first time you try your favorite food, the first time you win an award, the first time you hear your favorite song, the first time you talk to the person you’re meant to spend the rest of forever with, the first time you overcome your worst fear, the first time you read your favorite book, the first time you travel to a different country, the first time you have thoughts that should damn you for eternity and for some...there is even a first time for eating pussy.

It’s an embarrassment he’d never wanted anyone to discover let alone put to the test. Sure his friends had their time to talk about their extensive knowledge on female anatomy, but whenever the topic of him and Jesse doing anything outside the box he himself had placed them in, his lips were sealed. For one thing it wasn’t their business, for two he’s not entirely sure what he would say. He knew the time would come. He didn’t view their relationship like a race and he knew Jesse didn’t either. They’d been friends for too long and knew each other too well for him to base their relationship off of sex.

Grayson keeps his eyes glued to his hands holding Jesse’s hips tight -- unsure of what to do now that he’s got her beneath him and wanting him to have his way with her. He knows what he wants, but doubts that he has the courage to pursue it within him. He’d watch her with careful eyes as she peeled off each article of clothing before pulling him close by his belt loop and on to the bed to kiss her rough busy day away. A picnic was nice, but his complete and undivided attention was better. Even if his eyes trailing up and down every part of her body made her nervous.

He’d done plenty of things with his ex before Jesse, but none of those things had involved his lips and tongue anywhere beneath the waist. Not anything like he’s inevitably about to do.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Jesse had snickered minutes ago, a sly smirk lacing up her ruby red lips from so much kissing -- moment’s before he’d gotten them both all hot and bothered. He couldn’t help it when he was with her, his self control falters and he’s drunk off her touch once again, swimming in a pool of despair he can’t control. All he can think about is her. Wanting her. Needing her. Touching every single inch of her velvety skin. Wanting to do things to her. Wanting her to do things to him. Things he would blush at in the future.

Jesse was a woman with desires he’d only dreamed of women having. She was shy at times but the devil danced in her bright eyes. Grayson knew she wanted things she’d never had the guts to say out loud and things she only wanted from him alone. It all made him a fierce kind of nervous, but gave him an electrified thrill. A challenge for him to explore the workings of her body and all the ways he can make her more satisfied than she’s ever been. He didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon - and if he wanted to do her right, he had to go outside of his comfort zone for her.

Knowing Jesse was more experienced did things to him that he couldn’t begin to hide -- but more than anything it made him jealous of every set of hands that had ever touched her skin before his. It made him reckless and competitive, focused and haughty. He was better than them, he could be better than them.

He could rapture her into a whirlwind of pleasure that would ruin her image of every man except him, wanting no one's mouth but his, daydream of no one’s lips but his own, beg for no one else’s touch, want no one else’s hands but the ones holding her now. It wasn’t about him, this wasn’t about his pleasure for once, it was truly all about her.

Pulling him back into the flames, he’s burning up under her intense stare, waiting for him to do something, do anything. Anything but watch her long enough to find something less than stellar, less than grand, less than exceptional. With her fears unfolding she pulls him down for a kiss of her own, a soft feather of a thing he can feel all the way to his toes. She’d always been good at that, giving him more to miss when she’s away. The way she hugs him close is one of those things.

Grayson fell hard into love—which wasn’t particularly unusual for the hopeless romantic he was, but he always knew Jesse was set apart from the seasonal heartthrobs. He was truly bewitched by her creativity, wanderlust, unapologetic confidence, patience, and beauty.

An enchantress she was, beautiful beyond anything he could ever deserve. Drop dead gorgeous with the personality to match, there wasn’t a head that didn’t turn when she walked into a room, not a man that didn’t fumble over their words at any opportunity to talk to her, not a woman who didn’t want to be her friend. Sure her beauty was undeniable, but her benevolent heart beat it all.

He may never know why Jesse had leaned in to kiss him seven months ago save for three days in a hidden corner in Café Verona -- a quaint treasure he’d always hold dear to his heart. Fairy lights criss-crossed along the ceiling, soft Jazz waltzing with the beat of his heart, emerald green leather bench pressing into his thighs. But he’s glad she did. He’s glad she leaned in to kiss him when he’d been building up the nerve for weeks. So afraid to go there but more afraid of not knowing what would happen if he didn’t. He’s glad she took his chin in between her fingers to hold him still enough to feel her lips press to his securely, a warmth swarming in his chest where the heart shaped hole once was.

If he flipped through the pages of his memory, he would remember a statue-like stillness about him before he sunk into her touch, caging her head in his large careful hands. Feeling the gasp she tried to hide, the smell of grapefruit shampoo and the way her flushed cheeks felt under his stroking thumbs. He would see himself fall into her, around her and through her, off the edge of the rocky cliff and into the dark blissful deep of nothing but her.

He’d be eternally grateful she looked at him with utmost sincerity and whispered with a raw kind of intensity that he’d “driven her mad you see” -- and he’d heard it then, the brittleness of her voice because fear rattles her to the core, and she had been scared out of her mind. A crack that tracked through her careful confession and to the root of him. Jesse was scared of what he meant, what he was in terms of her heart, what he could be if she continued to kiss him the way she was.

In that quiet moment he remembered what made her so deeply rooted in his heart: the laugh that rattled him, the soft smell of peaches and vanilla, the way she never drives without sunglasses because her mom who passed away much too early did the same, the dance she does when she finally eats the first bite of food after damn near breaking the world in half in hanger, the way she punches the roof of her car after making it through a yellow light because her best friend in high school did the same, the way she always turns her spoon upside down when eating ice cream, and the way she always has answers for everything no matter what topic, even the way she laughs entirely too hard at Family Feud.

For that reason alone he waited for the physical parts to come when they may. It was new and exciting sure, and he’d always loved her heart of course, but her body was uncharted territory. He was patient, yes. A gentleman guarding some assumed virtue, even if he knew better than to think she was anything but a seductress. Patient enough to tell her no when she’s had one too many drinks and not enough discipline. They’d been friends before anything else - the best of friends with a foundation of trust. He’s spent years trying to gain that trust and he vowed to keep it.

Of course he could have been that guy on many occasions: possessive, selfish, greedy and crude. He could have played his cards and dealt his dirty hand at the wrong moment and still pulled out ahead. I mean hell, how often do guys get out of the friend-zone? But he wasn’t that guy. No matter the relationship status — they weren’t ready.

They hadn’t been ready to cross that carefully drawn line in the sand, not until now. With the strawberry White Barn candle burning in the corner on the cluttered desk one could expect from a college student and a half full can of Arizona tea on the night stand...her face lit with a mystical kind of magic he’d only ever seen the day she leaned back after their first official kiss.

“Hold my hair.”

Grayson found the words slipping off his tongue easier than they’d come all night. All he’s planned on was a simple date in the park that was tucked away and secluded from all the people that could interrupt, he’d even brought her favorite book and laid back on a soft patch of grass to listen to her melodic voice read to him. He’d planned to come back and share a peck or two while watching a new episode of Daredevil and holding her through the night. She’d had a long day full of texts to him, trying to get him to give her the okay to walk out of her low-paying job and not look back. He never planned on laying her down on his bed and caressing every inch of her skin until he was finally delving into a place he’d never been quite like this.

He was nervous but he could do anything, be anything with her hand in his hair and her kind eyes watching him defile her. He just knew from this moment on he would have a reputation to uphold, as cocky as it sounded. He had to prove he wasn’t as lost as he felt. He felt like a virgin all over again, like he was doing something raw and real and scary. A secret only the wrinkled sheets would remind him of later.

Her touch, her soothing him through something that frightened him has always been a crutch for him to lean on. When he got in a fight with his brother, she was there to comb through his hair and talk him through the proper apology, when he decided to change majors and had a breakdown so crippling he couldn’t breathe she rocked him through it until his breath was even once again, when he wrecked his new car on the way home from a party he never should have been at she was right there to give him a kiss on the cheek and help him call the insurance company and his erratic mother who loved her like a daughter. She led him through the rough parts of life and then some.

He never imagined she would be leading him through something so sensual, but he needed her bringing him back to earth all the same.

Jesse obliged with a grin of her own, feeling him shuffle down to trail a string of kisses across her torso and down to the base of her need and desire. The fireball of want burned in her stomach, turning her rational thoughts brown and charred. He was good at that, making her need him fiercely. She’d never wanted anyone so much, and even if she thinks back to past flings - she’d never been satisfied like she was with Grayson, and they’d done much less.

“What are you thinking?” Jesse wonders, distracted by his soft supple lips and his nibbling at her hip, but wanting to hear the inner workings of his brain. Her fingers fidget, wanting to push him by his brown mop of hair down lower - just to feel him at last. She needed this distraction, she just needed his help to forget. Not that she hadn’t been waiting for months for this exact moment, there was just urgency in the way she’s stripped herself bare before him.

She almost expects him to wait for her direction, but jerks against him when he takes the lead all on his own. How could he not with her as his complete mercy, giving him the fuck me eyes and twisting a lock if hair around her finger?

Grayson thinks on that as he trails his mouth down, down, down to slick his tongue up the base of her, smirking to himself when she wiggles against him. “I’m thinking that I like you this way.”

The contact was a shock to her nervous system and a promise of what was soon to come if she kept tempting him the way she was. She was a heathen with angel eyes. Someone infatuated with his innocence (at least he was more innocent than she) and curiosity to learn every curve and dip of her body. He made her feel powerful, unstoppable, undeniable. She craved it as much as he craved her own lips tracking across his skin - in the heat of the moment or in the still of the night.

“Naked you mean?” She laughs then, trying to keep herself at least somewhat under control now that he’s grown some balls and taken the first step. She’s shocked momentarily that she didn’t have to practically order him into touching her.

She grips her breasts at another bold swipe of his tongue. Rolling her hardened nipples between her fingers and tensing at the sparks flying up her center. The feeling of him spreading her open, blowing against her throbbing clit is almost too much to bear. Jesse curses then, a soft “fuck” she tries to reel back before he gets too big of a head. She knows it fell on eager ears when he delivers another bold stripe of his tongue up her center -- slow and deliberate.

“Unguarded,” he finally grumbles, rubbing away the goosebumps that pepper her thighs. She thinks for a moment that she could gave turned off the ceiling fan circling over top of them, but feared she might burn up if it wasn’t for the white blades blowing on her crown of hair going every which way on the pillow.

She ignores how right he is - that she’s never been this vulnerable with him before, but instead rolls her eyelids shut to feel him really delve into her - opening his mouth and pressing his tongue to her flat. This is just what she needed, her favorite person trying something new and succeeding at it.

For someone that’s never given head, he was pulling it off. He was going to ruin her.

Glancing down at the yellow glow of the lamp illuminating the right side of his face, Jesse curled her fingers into his plush head of hair once again, somewhere between heaven and hell with no real knowledge of the difference.

She moans at his lips wrapping around her, the suction to her lower region and the way his thumbs dig into her skin to hold her in place. No running this time, she had no choice but to feel it all. This is what she wanted right?

“This feel okay?” he teases, tentatively trailing the tip of his tongue around the place she wanted most. He loved to see her eyes alight with that devilish incomprehensible lust. He was truly winging it, doing anything he’d heard from friends or watched himself late at night, anything to further her soft pants and moans tumbling out of her O shaped mouth. She was too good to be true and felt like one lucky bastard.

Nodding down to him she groans, wanting him latched to her. “M-more than okay just keep going.”

He never knew it could feel so pleasurable to be the giver and not the receiver nine times out of ten. He didn’t know how selfish he’d been and the opportunities he'd missed to feel compliant and...obedient. He liked it. He loved it. He loved the position he was in - her looking down at him like the goddess she was and always had been, him crouching down at the end of the bed to devour her in the best way he could, his hair disheveled, eyes dark with hunger, hands gripping her tight.

He lets instinct take the wheel, peppering kisses to her clit and bringing his own hand down to slip in a finger to add extra stimulation - pleased when Jesse releases another string of curses. Fowl language huh? Wonder what she’d do if he stopped-

“You’re such a dick-“ she tugs at his roots, rolling her hips into his mouth that savors her now, lips slick with her wetness. She tasted good, he’d concluded. It wasn’t anything like what he imagined it would be, no, it was better. It felt better than all of the horror stories he’d made up in his head. He’s sure if he wanted to - he could stay right down between her legs for hours -- until his lips were sore and his tongue tired. Stopping wasn’t an option. Not when she’s been waiting so long, fantasized too often. She huffs out again “Thought you’ve never done this before.”

That must be a good sign, right?

“Never,” he slurps at her, shaking his head and groaning into her core. He felt the slickness of her on his cheeks now. Bowing down to eat her out was harder than it looked, especially with back problems as it was.

Focused and drunk on Jesse’s gentle hip thrust into his mouth he hugs her thighs and stands upright, just off the edge of the bed, bringing her lower half up in the air with him. He can feel her trembling now, wide eyes gleaming at him with surprise and delight at the new and better position.

She was losing it. She’d had him compliant at first, her soft-hearted boyfriend trying something new...but damn he was tugging the ropes from between her fingers and leading her to a path less traveled. Quick learner he was.

“Grayson put me down! Have you lost your mind?” Jesse squealed, grinning at his closed eyes and moving lips, deaf to her antics. She was expected something quick, maybe even simple, but him switching up positions was not in the game plan as great as it was.

She could see it now, the guy that was always hiding just beneath the surface. She could see how her sounds urged him on and made him try harder. She could see his arms shaking from the weight of her legs and the effort it took to hold her pussy as close to him as he could. She could feel the heavy breath fanning out across her pelvis from his nose. She could feel the tickle of his hair dangling down and whispering across the skin of her stomach. She could feel that same ball of fire seated in her stomach slip lower and lower with each passing second - until the words that fell out of her mouth were nothing but strings of profanity would make a sinner blush.

It was going to sear her in half, that fucking ball of fire. Hot lava stirring up a flood she couldn’t stop. It was splitting her in half just as his digits were now, pumping into her hard and fast, curling at his knuckles. His rings gleam from the yellow lamp-light and shock her when they touch her dewy skin. She had lost all sense of control.

Hearing his own moans, hearing how desperate he was to keep eating her pussy and make her feel better than anyone had, got her inching towards the edge. It was a low kind of growl itching at his throat.

The taste of her blurred his senses, the soft smell of her making his mind spin out of control, the tightening walls of her cunt around his fingers fucking her fast, the light sheen of sweat that glowed in the dim light of his room - he was a madman with no direction but forward. He had to keep going, for stopping would surely break them both. He would love to tease her, but knew if he stopped one more time she would kill him in a heartbeat.

“Open your fucking eyes and watch me.” He barked down to her, stopping only for a moment to glare at her. His fingers continued their fast paced in and out, in and out, in and out.

He’d figured if he was going to take it all the way, he needed to pull every string. Needed to pull out the nasty daydreams and make them a reality. This is something he would have for keeps. Something he’d want to do over and over, something he couldn’t wait to do again. Something he’d want to remember.

Peeling her eyes open she sobbed at the sight of him spitting into her pussy with a smile, staring at her darkly. Light eyes blacked into pits he ruined her through and through. He had to be lying, he just had to be.

“Fast learner,” Grayson sneers, leaning forward to smear his saliva around her slick folds, arms circling her midsection to hold her close again.

“ Fuckfuckfuckfuck- keep fu- keep going!” Jesse begs, barely holding on to the light threatening to slip away into the fire burning her up. “Doing so good Gray, so fucking good.”

She had discovered soon in the relationship and the minimal sexual acts they’d indulged in that Grayson was a man that adored praise. He wanted someone to tell him how good he was doing, even if he already knew it. He wanted someone to look him in the eyes just as she was doing now and watch him succeed. He wanted complete undivided attention, verbal acknowledgment.

He sucked at her still, sliding his tongue into her quickly then — remembering someone in a poorly shot amateur porn video did the same to the tatted up blonde he was practically fucking to death, and hoped it would have the same effect on his beautiful princess begging for him to keep going. He kept note while he watched the video, knowing one day he would be standing where he is now relishing in the gold mine that belonged to him. He fucker her with his tongue, humming into her cunt for the added stimulation.

Fuck all she was the end of him. “Pretty pussy all wet for me, yeah? Want to cum? Bet you doubt me huh? Thought I wouldn’t do you right…”

He chucked at the vigorous nodding of her head, the eyes rolling in the back of her head, the hand that leaves his hip to pull at her own hair. Her eyes squeezing shut in panic now that she feels the tip of the iceberg coming up fast.

“Don’t even know how crazy you drive me, how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

Hearing him admit it only made her thighs quiver against his strong arms, only made her want more, made her creep dangerously close to the edge she was for once in her life afraid to fall off of. The crash into the sea would be the biggest shock she’s ever had. Jesse tried to focus on her breathing, trading the heaving for squealing when he dipped his tongue in her entrance to give her something to fantasize about. She’d never had someone tongue fuck her, let alone stair into her soul while they did it.

Fuck he was good. Too fucking good.

“Baby you have t-to slow down,” she warns, the big splash terrifying and so close. He was a wicked man for doing just the opposite, spreading her legs wider and shaking his head against her again, eyes squeezed shut like he knew what would happen in only a few seconds.

“Grayson step back,” she tried to warn more firmly, afraid of the unfamiliar feeling of something new about to happen, embarrassed already but too worked up to stop it. “Shit - Grayson step back!”

And there it was, the strongest orgasm she’d ever had and certainly the wettest. Her release soaked the bed beneath, sheets spotted with her arousal and breath stolen from her lungs. She’s not sure when Grayson had dropped her, or whether her convulsing body wiggled out of his grasp during the black out she’d just had. She was spread on the bed in her own mess, her chest flushed, damp hair stuck to her forehead in waves, vision blurred, eyelids drooping in exhaustion, hand somehow in Graysons.

He’s there then. He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, his hand a ghost on her forehead brushing away those tendrils of hair, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles with tender care, his lips smoothing the furrow of her brows. Grayson is lifting her without a word, caging her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and smoothing her head against his chest to feel the weight of her there - just to feel the heat of her consume him.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, spent.

“I hope it wasn’t too much,” he whispers into her hair, hand smoothing over the locks while rocking her around the room, mind racing with every image of what he’d just done and the feeling of complete bliss flooding his body.

He’s almost worried she fell asleep in his arms until he feels the shaking he can only assume is laughter, before she’s hugging him tighter. “Idiot. I can’t believe you’ve never done that. And I can’t believe I’m this tired. Feel like a rookie.”

“Guess I passed the test then?”

“Flying colors.”

Jesse nuzzles in as far as she can, tucking in her arms against his chest and letting the state of Nirvana wash over her. With a sigh Jesse thinks over the shocking events of her boyfriend being 100% nastier than she’d initially thought — not that she’s complaining.

She barely remembers Grayson running a bath, or setting her in the steaming tub with a kiss, or waiting for him to strip the bed with a giddiness sitting in his chest at all that they’d done, barely remembers him joining her in the tub and catching soap in the calm of his hand to smith the suds over her post-sex body. That’s the only way she would describe herself in the moment, her skin felt sensitive to the touch, sparks still shooting through her with the feeling of his hands on her.

What Jesse does remember is laying with Grayson in a bed freshly made, arm draped over his stomach, head resting against his arm, lips peppering kisses against his chest randomly through-out the night. She remembers the feeling of adoration and understanding. What they’d done was both the most foul thing she’d ever done, but also the most liberating and beautiful experience. To lose yourself in another person in such a way that you’re utterly consumed by them was...foreign to the pair laying together in the still of the night.

Jesse waited until Grayson was softly snoring until she said the only thing she’d never had the guts to tell him in the months they’d been dating. He’d been waiting on it patiently. It was different between friends, but it meant so much more when you don't want to say it to anyone else for the rest of your life. The moment she says it, she can’t ever take it back. Maybe that’s why she chooses the early hours of the morning to lean in and press her lips against his feather soft, blinking back the mist clouding her vision.

“Don’t know if you could tell...but I'm kind of in love with you...so just be patient with me please I’m trying for you.”

Maybe she would get the guts one day to say the words while he’s awake, maybe face to face or with the lights off because she has some kind of comfort in the dark, or maybe it would slip out on accident. In any way that it happens, she hopes he will smile. She hopes that he knows how insanely incandescently happy he makes her each and every day, and how honored she feels that she got to experience another first with him.She hopes he will be comforted that his feelings are 100% reciprocated. She hopes that she gets to see that beautiful smile he wears on special occasions -- the true smile that he doesn't show too often. For now she presses her lips to his once again, smiling softly as the slow ride and fall of his chest, arm holding her close, the ring she won him out of a shitty machine in the corner of a tattoo shop he’d stopped into on a whim secured on a thin chain around his neck, and the fluttering of his eyelashes while he dreamed.

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musette22 · 3 years

Note

Hi Minnie! Hope you can help me settle an argument my brother and I are having about EG!Steve. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this with shipping goggles off, looking at it purely in terms of characterization, narrative, and good writing. Better hang on though, it's going to be a long ask! (sorry in advance for spamming you!) 1/7

So my brother and I were watching FatWS and once again got into a debate about whether Steve's last actions were a disservice or in line with his characterization and narrative, given that the Russos confirmed (and therefore it's Word of God/canon, even if it did sound reactionary to the immediate backlash after EG) that Steve created an alternate reality when he went back, and didn't just live in hiding in the past of the OG timeline. 2/7

Because of this, my bro argued that: 1) the total character assassination that is the idea of Steve just sitting back and letting all the shit happen happen is no longer a problem - for all we know, the alternate reality oldman!Steve came from might have become utopic already due to his presence and foresight. He played coy when talking to Sam so we don't know for certain he didn't save Bucky, get rid of Hydra, and enact social reform when he had the chance. 3/7

Likewise, 2) the accusation that Steve would rob Peggy of her husband and children is a non-issue as Steve went back to a time before Peggy and Daniel got together - I argued here that it was still wrong for him to do given that he KNEW for a fact that Peggy lived a happy life, whereas it was a gamble if he could give her the same. My bro shot back when you truly loved someone, you want them to be happy and to have what's best for them. 4/7

So if Steve chose to go back to Peggy, he had to have believed that he could give her the best life. That Steve based that decision purely on his own assessment is pretty in character (e.g. pushing to become a soldier because he thought that was how he could do his part, even though at the time, he'd have just been a danger to himself and other soldiers; not signing the Accords because he believed in his team's judgment in crises above gov't oversight that might be influenced by politics). 5/7

And lastly 3) he might have settled into the past and started to move on, but what was wrong with him choosing to be selfish and going to the past when given a chance? Why was it wrong for him to go back to a time he knew, where he was beloved by both Peggy and the public, and when he could also save Bucky early? In terms of character growth, wouldn't it be fair for him to finally learn he could be a bit selfish and choose happiness, after a lifetime of nearly suicidal selflessness? 6/7

Our debate was based on confirmed canon with shipping put aside. So I put forth the sin of leaving a traumatized Bucky, Sam, and world behind, that Steve's actions were surely the result of a man broken by grief again and again, and that choosing the past was him running away - which, I argued, was a horrible way to end his character arc. But my brother asked me why I thought so, because wasn't this the so-called 'soft epilogue' that Steve deserved, one that was most in line with canon? 7/7

***************

Hey love! Very interesting argument you and your brother are having here… I’m sure he’s a great guy but I have to say that I vehemently disagree with him (as you probably already guessed lol). Soooo many people have done an excellent job at explaining why, shipping aside, Steve’s ending in EG was absolute bollocks, and I’m certain I could never argue this case as well as all of them have. Nevertheless, I’ll do my best to explain why, in my opinion, your brother is wrong :p I’m going to put my reply under the keep reading tag, because it is long.

1. The Russos and Markus & McFeely (the writers) never managed to agree on whether Steve really did go back to an alternate timeline, and if so, how that would have worked, exactly. When they were asked, after EG had been released, about whether Steve would have just sat back and let everything he knew was happening/going to happen in the decades to come, both to Bucky and to the world at large, they came up with this ‘alternate timeline’ solution, but they kept contradicting each other on the logistics and technicalities of it (like how would old man Steve suddenly be able to jump timelines to come back to give Sam the shield in EG? And how did EG Steve attend Peggy’s funeral, like they also suggested, which would technically have been in a different timeline?). Which makes it pretty clear that this wasn’t something they’d considered beforehand or even all agree on afterwards, and therefore it can’t technically allowed to play a role in judging the rightness of Steve’s ending in EG if we’re looking at it from a ‘the creator’s word is law’ perspective. Moreover, there is nothing to indicate in EG itself that Steve knew he’d be able to create alternate timelines, so that would’ve been a crazy gamble on his part. Also, him ‘playing coy’ in that final scene with Sam really isn’t a convincing indication that he was actually, canonically, talking about anything besides marrying Peggy.

2. Which bring us to point two: Peggy had literally told Steve she’d lived a happy life with her family, and told him in no uncertain terms to move on. If Steve really loved her, he would have accepted her wishes and allowed her the dignity of her choice (something Peggy herself, in CA:TFA, had told Steve was important to do when you care about someone) to move on from him once she believed him dead. Steve deciding that he would be better for Peggy because he believed was a better man than the person she ended up marrying originally would be the most un-like Steve thing to do, ever. Steve has never once shown that he thinks of himself as the hero or better than other people – he simply wants to do the best he can to help make the world a better place. He would never say “Peggy deserves the best and I believe I am the best, therefore she will have me, regardless of what she thinks or wants.” Steve drinks respect women juice, that’s clear from all of his movies, and deciding the course of her entire life for her, taking away her agency, whether in his own timeline or another, would be utterly disrespectful to Peggy.

3. As for the next point: of course there’s nothing wrong with Steve being selfish for once – Steve is human, and all humans are selfish sometimes, and that’s okay. But, as Chris Evans already explained multiple times prior to Endgame, Steve had already made selfish decisions in the past, namely when it came to getting Bucky back and keeping him safe. Shipping aside, Bucky was presented in all the Cap movies as Steve’s very best friend, and was even called his ‘soulmate’ (platonically or otherwise) by M&M (the writers). So when, in Civil War, Steve was presented with a choice between duty/what was expected of him by the government versus saving Bucky/keeping Bucky safe, Steve was selfish and chose Bucky. That, canonically, made sense. Peggy being presented as the ultimate love of Steve’s life, who he loved and valued more than anyone or anything else in the world (which is what happened in EG), canonically does not make sense.

In CA:TWS, Peggy told Steve to move on. When Peggy died, Steve buried her and mourned her, and then not long after, he canonically kissed Peggy’s niece. Then, in Infinity War, Steve saw Bucky turn to dust before his very eyes in the “Blip” (a conscious decision on the writers’/directors’ part to show how Steve once again lost what was most important to him while helplessly standing by) – and the next thing we know, Steve is leading a support group for other people who lost loved ones in the Blip, and starts talking about losing… Peggy? Huh. Also, Steve going back to a time which your brother calls “a time when he was beloved the public” doesn’t add up, either: technically, Steve went back to a time where people loved an idea of him, but also believed him to be dead. So either he would have had to have found a way to convincingly stage his own resurrection (meanwhile possibly leaving the other version to vegetate in the ice..? depending on how this timeline malarkey was supposed to work), or he would have lived his whole life hidden behind some fake persona – which does not sound like Steve at all, does it?

4. Finally, let’s talk about Bucky some more, because I think we need to to be able to assess the situation properly. I understand that your brother may believe that shippers are often delusional and only see what they want to see etc, but there is ample evidence, canonically, of Bucky being the most important person in Steve’s life – the person he would give up the shield for, the person he would give up his other friendships for, the person he would give up his life for. Peggy may have been a recurring character in character in the three Cap movies, but she was never presented as the principal motivator of his actions, or as the love of Steve’s life. You know who was? Bucky. Sure, that love wasn’t canonically romantic in nature, but there can’t be any doubt that Bucky meant more than anything to Steve. Therefore, Steve choosing to have a ‘soft epilogue’ that entails him spending the rest of his life without Bucky – and, more importantly, Bucky to spend the rest of his life without Steve – contradicts everything we’ve learned about their relationship (platonic or otherwise) in the rest of the movies, does it not?

Also, the Russos have said something to the effect that Bucky and Steve were now both mentally ‘well enough’ to not ‘need’ each other anymore (because as we all know, that’s exactly how friendships work…), but it’s pretty clear from EG that Steve was still traumatized by everything he’d been through, and going back to the 50s would have meant he would never be able to get proper help with that and in fact could only talk about any of it with Peggy and Peggy alone. Moreover, M&M have literally said in interviews that Bucky wasn’t all that well yet, mentally, and TFAWTS also shows convincingly that Bucky was not actually in a good place when Steve left him. So that would have meant that Steve either did not see this (unlikely, given how close they were) or did not care (unlikely, given how close they were).

It would have meant that for the first time in all these movies, Steve decided “to hell with Bucky’s needs, I’m gonna just be selfish because I’ve earned it and claim my trophy wife because actually I am the best man for her, despite the fact that she’s already lived a happy life that I will be negating against her wishes, but that’s fine because maybe I’ll be able to create a different timeline, and maybe I’ll be able to save Bucky from all his trauma anyway, but then again maybe not, but that brings me back to my first point of to hell with Bucky’s needs” - which does not make a lot of sense to me, personally. Not to mention that, in exchange for his ‘soft epilogue’, Steve would also leave the world to sort out the post-Blip mess without him, and leave all the other friends he still had left and clearly cared about a lot to boot. I would not call that character growth, I would call that character disintegration. If your brother insists on taking the creator’s word as gospel and that we have to accept that Steve really did do what he did at the end of Endgame, and that wasn’t just a case of bad, lazy writing fuelled by greed, then to make a decision like this, Steve would have been either an asshole in disguise all along, or mentally extremely unstable.

There you have it, my two cents! I hope this helps a little in settling the argument with your brother, anon! Lots of love ❤️

#anti endgame #steve rogers #minnie answers #Anonymous

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m-y-fandoms · 3 years

Text

1 Thing I Love & 1 Thing I Hate About EVERY Danganronpa Character Part 1

Part 2

SPOILERS FOR ALL THREE MAIN GAMES

I’d love to hear our opinions as well in the comments or my inbox or DM’s! If you try this trend with DR characters, tag me!

Sayaka Maizono

♡ Her passion for her career and friends.

✘ The way she tries to screw over Makoto when the game had just begun. Like wait and see what happens before screwing over such a great guy? Leon didn’t deserve it either.

Leon Kuwata

♡ His voice actor (English), and how real and human his execution was in that we all would be so scared and irrational. It was just so iconic and sad as it’s our first introduction to the death in this series and we all think: “shit, this is real... they are really killing these kids.” I didn’t think it would be that brutal, just seeing his body limp at the end with the haunting music.

✘ His design is disgusting. I hate how he looks.

Chihiro Fujisaki

♡ So innocent, so kind, so intelligent

✘ Shouldn’t have been killed for such a stupid reason, also they did Mondo dirty with that motive for killing as well. Just a mess. As for the actual character, Chihiro cries right off the bat when you do your introductions and that was kind of annoying to me personally.

Mondo Oowada

♡ He has a lot of respect, understanding and emotions for someone I thought would be a hard-ass douche biker.

✘ The worst motive to kill ever in a game where you know you’re getting executed if you’re found out. Like you’d be extra careful and that’s his reason to kill? Lazy writing.

Celestia Ludenberg

♡ Bad bitch energy and her goth lolita design.

✘ Manipulation and double murder. Bad bitch energy only goes so far. Confidence is different then selfishness. Also, of all the chapter 3 triple murders... the worst motive to kill.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

♡ Emotions: secure in his masculinity, able to cry, show emotions, and apologize when he’s wrong. He’s funny and likable.

✘ The Ishimondo white hair thing was stupid. Taka was fine on his own.

Hifumi Yamada

♡ Writing takes talent, fan fiction as much as any other style or genre. Also the talent of his voice actor (who also voices Kiibo/K1-B0).

✘ Literally everything else about him.

Sakura Oogami

♡ I love everything about her. I love her wisdom, loyalty, design, voice etc. Just step on me, mother.

✘ Why the hell would she ever agree to be a spy even if it meant the end of her dojo? I just don’t think she would do that rationally because she isn’t selfish. The others would suffer for her spying. She remedies this with redemption in her letter in chapter 4 but still she should’ve said no off the bat. Everyone had something to lose. The dojo wasn’t worth spying for monokuma. Also I just don’t think she would commit suicide. She can’t help the remaining students survive and redeem herself truly if she’s dead.

Kyoko Kirigiri

♡ Bad bitch energy, calm and collected when I could never be.

✘ Especially in future arc of the anime, damn can you show some emotion please? Through your words and expressions not just your actions. Sure she was willing to “die” for Makoto but like I just want more emotion from her sometimes, even in THH.

Makoto Naegi

♡ So pure. I Love Bryce Papenbrook. Makoto reminds me of Sora and I love his design.

✘ In THH I didn’t mind his innocence but in the Danganronpa 3 future arc anime, when people started straight up abusing him and accusing him, he needed to grow a little backbone.

Byakuya Togami

♡ Love my dad, king shit, also love how over the progression of the games and animes he becomes a little more kind to his friends.

✘ Why the fuck did he mess with Chihiro’s body? Just so cruel and disrespectful.

Yasuhiro Hagakure

♡ Funny magic man. Sexy voice.

✘ Please. Please Hiro use your brain just once. Why do we have to prove Kyoko isn’t a ghost?!

Toko Fukawa

♡ Character development in UDG and I love Genocider.

✘ Putting down herself and others constantly gets old in THH.

Aoi Asahina

♡ Love her voice actress and her personality

✘ We really just gonna get everyone killed in chapter 4 huh? Surely you know they don’t all deserve that.

Junko Enoshima

♡ A very memorable villain with great hair and design.

✘ I just can’t stand her. I hate her so much.

Mukuro Ikusaba

♡ Her mercenary background is super cool as a concept.

✘ Too bad it wasn’t explored nearly enough.

Hajime Hinata

♡ Seeing the protagonist be a little less naive, innocent and positive than Makoto was a refreshing change, although I loved Makoto. I liked Hajime’s cynicism and expressions that sometimes just screamed “this shit again, huh?”

✘ I enjoy the way Izuru looks but I hate him as a character. He is sexy to look at but Hajime is just a better character overall

Teruteru Hanamura

♡ His love for his family and mother especially is so cute and heart breaking if you know the full story.

✘ He needs to know when to dial it back and quit with the perversions. And no it’s not just how he looks, Miu needs to chill at times, too.

Twogami

♡ I feel like he genuinely cares about his friends, just hides it well

✘ His death felt like a cop out and poorly written. It just didn’t sit right with me. Also his design is disgusting to me, his outfit and such.

Mahiru Koizumi

♡ Loyal to her close friends.

✘ I just have no interest in her as a character and I find her boring.

Peko Pekoyama

♡ Loyalty. Loyalty is something I value very highly in every form of relationship. Peko is also very hot.

✘ Come on girl... I know how you were raised but you should’ve known Fuyuhiko didn’t think of you as just a tool and you two should’ve expressed your true feelings long ago. Like even in secret. How do you live like this? Also I feel like killing Mahiru could’ve been avoided with a calm talk.

Ibuki Mioda

♡ Cute design, positive vibes.

✘ Cringe sometimes in the way she talks.

Hiyoko Saionji

♡ Beautiful character design and some very good insults and snarky remarks at times.

✘ Just irredeemably mean and annoying. Even when you do her free time events she is just so annoying.

Mikan Tsumiki

♡ I like her design as well as her hair, expressions, sprites and clothing.

✘ I hate her. I just hate her whether she’s in her true psycho form or timid stuttering form. She’s just annoying in my opinion.

Nekomaru Nidai

♡ So supportive, can hold my drink at a party. Respects everyone and wants the best for them.

✘ Bro Mechamaru was a stupid plot point. I just couldn’t stand looking at him and couldn’t take it seriously. Still sad when he died though.

Chiaki Nanami

♡ From chapter 5 of sdr2 on she is impossible not to love if you didn’t already. Just the selflessness, the sadness of the reveal and execution, how she returns to help Hajime at the end???? I love her. I love her hair design, color palette, her personality, everything.

✘ I’m bitter and miserable about her being the only class member to actually die (the despair arc anime) also her falling asleep at random times is kind of odd and she doesn’t seem to be like that later on in the game??? Like it seemed like a cheap joke but not actually who she is? Hard for me to explain.

Gundham Tanaka

♡ King shit, couldn’t praise him enough. He’s sexy, loves animals, and is funny as hell sometimes. His voice actor is a saint and a cool dude and I named my guinea pigs after the Dark Devas (yes I know they are hamsters in the games.)

✘ Come on dude. I get that being from Hell and magic and having evil powers is your shtick, but we all know that you and Nekomaru sacrificed yourselves so the others wouldn’t starve. We know you care about your classmates. There comes a time when it’s time to let personas and facades fade and be true to your heart. I just feel like him denying he cared at the end hurt. We all know he cared. I didn’t like how he was haughty until the end. He deserved better. I love him.

Nagito Komaeda

♡ I love him so much. So cunning and intelligent, always a step ahead. And he’s big sexy.

✘ Him killing himself in chapter 5 hurt me so bad I was like in denial for days. Also hate how Bryce Papenbrook gives him a raspy stoner psycho voice in the game then a light airy higher-pitched voice in the despair arc anime. It just bothers me. I love his voice still but the inconsistency just hurts my OCD

Sonia Nevermind

♡ I love that she’s so interested in her passions and love her feelings for Gundham

✘ Her outfit and bow are atrocious. Also why didn’t she start liking and talking to Gundham sooner on? Their romance bloomed late and it would’ve made for a better chapter 4 ending if they were a bit closer.

Kazuichi Souda

♡ Cool design and outfit, love his voice (also voices Kaito in V3) and his backstory is relatable at times. He’s also very human in that he’s scared a lot of the time or insecure or blames others in panicked situations. It’s not always a good thing but it’s human and realistic.

✘ Gosh he can be so annoying. Sometimes flirting or whining too much is well... too much.

Akane Owari

♡ Strong-willed and definitely someone I would be friends with

✘ What the hell is her outfit? Gymnasts and athletes don’t wear that shit. Stop objectifying her when it doesn’t even make the product or plot better. Like there’s absolutely no point to making her dress that way. I was a gymnast for 15 years. Even those who do parkour (which Akane seems to do more often than actual gymnastics in the anime and game) don’t wear what she wears. Also she’s underrated.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu

♡ I love him. He’s the DR character I’m most like out of all the games and anime. Tenko is a close second. I think he’s adorable, love his character arc, development, redemption, and love his voice.

✘ In the anime/despair arc, Fuyuhiko is not done justice. He doesn’t get enough lines, has a different voice actor, just doesn’t give off the same vibes.

Izuru Kamakura

♡ Sexy man long hair good.

✘ Boring character. I wish he were just Hajime.

Kaede Akamatsu

♡ Loyalty and leadership are such attractive qualities in her. Also she faced her death with such class and dignity and I respect her because I could never.

✘ Some of the voice lines Erika does for her are just weird and cringe. Just random moans or grunts... I don’t know it’s like when Ann Takamaki from Persona 5 (also voiced by Erika) makes suggestive noises as well. Just grinds my gears. Also hate her outfit down to the hair pins.

Shuichi Saihara

♡ I love his nasally voice. I love his design and he’s so adorable. I love how emotional and compassionate he can be. He ties with Makoto for favorite protag of mine.

✘ That sprite where he sniffs his hand. And his ugly ass hat.

Rantarou Amami

♡ Sexy man, sexy voice, sexy piercings

✘ Ugly outfit, and wasted potential

Ryoma Hoshi

♡ I respect him and feel bad for his outlook on life and for how poorly he views himself. I love his little hat as well and he’s the first “different styled” character (Hifumi, Bandai, Teruteru) that I liked the design of.

✘ I hate when he says “got a long ways to go,” it’s overused and annoying, and wish he gave himself more credit. Also hate that when you first meet him he warns you that he’s killed people and is dangerous to be around. Come on buddy, you know you wouldn’t hurt your friends. Stop pushing them away.

Kirumi Tojo

♡ Competence, well rounded, skillful

✘ Boring as hell. I wouldn’t waste one free time event on her.

Angie Yonaga

♡ Dark skin, super cute, love her talent as an artist myself.

✘ Gives religious people a bad name and is super manipulative which I hate.

Tenko Chabashira

♡ I relate to her and feel bad when she’s misunderstood. She’s a good person deep down. Also love her sprites.

✘ There’s more cunning, funny and clever ways to write her digs at men.

Korekiyo Shunguuji

♡ I’m in love with this man. Long hair, voice, mystery, mask, intelligence, passion, talent.

✘ He definitely was a victim of abuse and a lot of people refuse to see that and just hate him. Team Danganronpa should’ve given him a redemption arc where he realized his sister abused him and changed.

Gonta Gokuhara

♡ I love his design except for his suit. Also he’s so cute and naive. I cried for his trail.

✘ No need talk like caveman. Better way to do this.

Kokichi Ouma

♡ Like Nagito, I value his intelligence and crazy cunning.

✘ Shouldn't have died. Also shouldn’t have manipulated Gonta. That was just cruel.

Miu Iruma

♡ She has her hilarious moments and her death surprised me and was sad.

✘ Sometimes she lacks basic empathy, i.e. calling Tenko “Tencrotch” when she just fucking died.

Maki Harukawa

♡ Amazing character development. Didn’t see her surviving until the end at the start. Also her love and passion for Kaito.

✘ “Do you wanna die?” gets old.

Kaito Momota

♡ Just the overall best bro you could ever have.

✘ Has some toxic masculinity issues and anger issues.

K1-B0

♡ Pretty much everything about him. His design, his attitude and personality, especially how amazing and cool he is chapter 5 onward, his execution made me so sad. He’s so innocent and funny without trying.

✘ When you do his free time events he’s very arrogant and just talks about himself a lot... it seems odd and not similar to the Kiibo we see throughout the game.

Himiko Yumeno

♡ Super cute design, love her voice and “Nyeh...” and her sprites. Her character development is great as well.

✘ Why did they take so long to make her important and likable?

Tsumugi Shirogane

♡ An excellent and well hidden reveal

✘ I hate her. So annoying, from the voice to the references and her personality.

320 notes · View notes

mc-critical · 3 years

Note

What are your thoughts on on how Hatice handled Esmanur? Do you think Ibrahim had a right to a relationship with Esmanur given what he had done to Hatice? Do you think there was even a morally correct way to handle the situation? Admittedly until this day I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. I truly hated Ibrahim for cheating on Hatice and she had every right to feel everything she has felt, and she refused to kill or hurt Esmanur and even allowed Nigar/Ib to see her, but I remember Ibrahim wanting more and it makes me wonder if that was realistic or even possible..

I certainly find Ibrahim's infidelity to be one of his worst actions: I know that despite of Hatice pulling rank on him out of ignorance and not malice, it hurt him a lot to hear what he heard from one of his most loved people and I get why he may feel alienated and want to distance himself from Hatice for a little bit, but he took it way too far at some point, both deluding Nigar and upsetting Hatice in the process. I disliked how he didn't even want to listen to what his wife had to say most of the time and didn't tell her anything at all. It all went way past Hatice pulling rank in that one scene in E29 (in which also Ibrahim didn't answer anything to Hatice's accusations even before she uttered these words - I get that he was simply in shock that she would ever accuse him of infidelity like this, but Ibrahim's silence only made matters worse.) and I'm sorry, but yes, she had the absolute right to feel how she felt and I stand behind her much more than I do Ibrahim in this, even though both motivations are perfectly understandable.

I honestly think Hatice acted in the best way she knew how when it came to Esmanur: in her decision, she regarded both her position as a member of the dynasty and a part of the family and strived to do as little harm as she possibly could. Because according to law, she could've killed all three and Valide Hafsa had the exact same fear and imagined it in her head when she went to SS in E58. Not to mention that SS left the decision to Hatice alone and he said that he wouldn't oppose whatever she decided. She could've freely ended their lives and no one could really judge her for it, but she chose not to. Secretly hiding Esmanur and especially lying to Nigar that her daughter was dead was definetly a shady move, but I guess that she considered that some kind of punishment was in order. The infidelity got to her dynastic pride and dignity in a massive way and that's why she refused to accept the daughter for so long and decided to rather hide her, pretend she didn't exist, yet still have someone care for her far away. Ibrahim also wrote her a letter where he said that he didn't regret anything and that broke Hatice's heart even more and put her in denial in her persistent insistence for him to burn it.

Hatice's arc about forgiving Ibrahim in relation to the Esmanur storyline developed in two levels: first she wanted for them to begin anew by themselves, without anyone else around, then she wanted for them to begin anew with Esmanur, too, hence again, dynastic pride and family values clash once again with each other in Hatice and find their resolve. She let Ibrahim see Esmanur, but it took her a while to do that: because is it easy to accept the daughter of another woman? Not to mention how in some moments Ibrahim seemed to value her more than his kids with Hatice, because he considered her as something out of the dynasty's hand, that could be fully his and that even resembled his own past self to some extent. She was the daughter of Teo, the fisherman in Parga, not of the grand vezier Ibrahim Pasha, the position that puts so many expectations on the person who wields it. That's why he always demanded more and that's also why Hatice showed so much resistence at first: to her, he not only violates the laws of the dynasty, but tarnishes the honor of the family and puts it in such an awkward position. Because Hürrem is right in that Esmanur, the sweet little girl, would be the walking reminder of the infidelity and what Hatice and Ibrahim have gone through, and that's the very thing they want to somehow get over. To Hatice, if the daughter ever comes in her own home, it would make the recovery from the situation much harder. Because she wants to forgive Ibrahim, but to do that, she has to get over some deep seated beliefs of her own.

When some time passed, when both slowly seemed to go back to normal, she was ready to accept her, underlined in her going to see her. Here she fully takes Ibrahim's feelings into account: she realized how much that daughter means to him and since a child is one of the biggest family values, too, to her (as seen in her consistently strong wish to have a child in her desired family throughout S01 and S02, along with her earlier biggest losses being losses of children), she can go as far as accept it in her home, to start over as a new, better, more stable family and have the wishes of both her and Ibrahim be fulfilled accordingly. But the needs of both once again clash and the roles reverse: because now Ibrahim doesn't want to have her in their home, but to have more than that, to go in his own accord in order to still preserve what he values the most about this daughter, along with his fatherly love for her. Hatice and Ibrahim succeed to truly start over only when they find a compromise in the front of Esmanur, as well - for Ibrahim to go see her when he wants (and give her to Matrakcı), but not to have her in Hatice's home and I find that the most moral solution of the issue, when it comes to the time period, his crime and Ibrahim himself.

Still, that's my opinion and I don't think a true moral solution can be offered, again judging by both the infidelity and the time period, which makes the situation even more iffy and complicated. The moral solution I would chose when it comes to Nigar would be for Matrakcı to give her the location of the daughter after Ibrahim's death for her to go there and live with Esmanur in piece. As I mentioned in the ask about Nigar as a whole, I consider this the perfect narrative send-off for her character, as well: a happy ending she absolutely deserves. Her efforts to find and permanetly take her daughter in her arms would finally pay off and she would preserve a memory of what she sees as the best moments of her life. Enough time would have passed for her to have "paid" for her crime, so I think it would be just for her to find happiness eventually.

[Side note: Plot and drama convenience aside, I believe Matrakcı didn't tell Nigar where her daughter is because of deep or maybe already subconscious resentment of Nigar after he divorced her right in their marriage's first night and the whole "horn on his door" situation happening. Yes, he logically has to resent Ibrahim for this, because he caused it in the first place, but I always felt that like Nigar, Matrakcı had such tremendous loyalty for Ibrahim that he idealized him. And even when he called him out on his methods both in the horn situation and the beggining of S03, he eventually let it slide and held no grudge. He refused to talk to Nigar whatsoever after the horn incident and he told her some very harsh words when he was drunk and it's very possible that he didn't let it go completely. They have broken his heart when it came to love (Sadıka) and it's also possible that this may have hardened him or he simply loves Ibrahim that much to blame him for stuff for long or maybe internalized mysoginy? It's solely a theory of mine (and the internalized mysoginy part may be a stretch), but it would make sense.]

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #hatice sultan #ibrahim pasha #nigar kalfa #esmanur #ask #stuffandthangs

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Light on the Door (ao3) (WWX in the Nie sect) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2

“Absolutely not,” Nie Mingjue said.

“I know this has come as a surprise to you,” Jiang Fengmian said, and his voice was calm and pleasant the way it always was. Reasonable. “But you must understand that –”

Nie Mingjue held up a hand. “Perhaps I was unclear, Sect Leader Jiang,” he said. “Let me clarify: absolutely fucking not.”

Jiang Fengmian was not an easy man to anger, nor did Nie Mingjue truly want to do so: he needed as many allies in the inevitable war against the Wens as he could manage. If he was smart the way Jin Guangshan was always encouraging him to be, he would soften his words, smile, try to make things palatable – but he was not Jin Guangshan, and he had never bent on a matter of principle.

Especially not when the principle was small and young and still unsure of himself underneath his bravado, afraid of losing all that he had gained in a single moment.

“His father was my right hand,” Jiang Fengmian said, a rare frown creasing his face. ��The Jiang sect would raise him as his father had intended.”

“His father is dead,” Nie Mingjue rebutted. “And before he died, he was a rogue cultivator – your Jiang sect has no claim here.”

“Legally, no,” Jiang Fengmian said. “But morally –”

“He joined my Nie sect willingly,” Nie Mingjue interrupted. His hands are clenched into fists behind his back: of course this would be the thing that Jiang Fengmian refused to bend on, it was different when it was his family that died, their legacy he wished to see fulfilled, and never mind about the murderer that still walked free and unhindered even by mere criticism. Never mind that that had been a father, too. “As is his right. If he wishes to go, I will not stop him –”

There was a moment there where Jiang Fengmian looked pleased, as if he thought Nie Mingjue was giving in.

“– but I do not understand him to want to,” he finished. “And no, before you ask, I will not let you bully him and bribe him until he does as you wish; as long as he is part of my Nie sect, he will be protected even from that.”

“Am I not even allowed to make the offer?” Jiang Fengmian asked, clear challenge in his voice. He even permitted his qi to flare up, cultivation acting to suppress those in the area – absolutely inappropriate, a tremendous breach of etiquette that could only barely be ascribed to Jiang Fengmian’s emotional state rather than a deliberate desire to intimidate.

Nie Mingjue kept his back straight despite the pressure. No one would blame him for faltering, not even his sect elders; the pressure was immense, and he was in the end only sixteen years old, his body not yet fully formed or even fully grown despite him already being taller than Jiang Fengmian –

But he had his pride. His pride, and Baxia, and the Nie sabers did not bend for anyone.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, allowing his rage into his voice. “Control yourself, or you will not see him at all.”

Jiang Fengmian closed his eyes briefly, recalling his power; there was a hint of apology on his features when he opened them again – perhaps it really had been a mistake. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“Do you know what that sort of pressure can do to someone who’s not yet of age?” Nie Mingjue demanded, crossing his arms. “If Wei Ying was harmed because of you –”

“I would never hurt Wei Ying! Or any other child!”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, omitting to mention that by some measures he already had. “Perhaps not, if he refused you; you’re not exactly demonstrating dignity in the face of being told ‘no’ right now.”

Jiang Fengmian’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t say anything – he had, in fact, been intolerably rude. He took a deep breath, calming himself forcefully, and then focused on Nie Mingjue.

“His father was my closest friend,” he said, and there was a touch of real pain in his voice. “His mother was very dear to me. I only wish what’s best for him. If he comes back with me, I would make him a direct disciple –”

“So will I,” Nie Mingjue said.

That got a reaction out of Jiang Fengmian beyond anger and selfishness.

“A direct disciple of your Nie clan?” he asked, clearly shocked. “But your clan – there’s only you and your brother in the main line!”

“I’m aware.”

“You don’t seriously mean that you would risk the inheritance of your sect –”

“I have already announced it to my sect,” Nie Mingjue said. “Three weeks ago. If what you want is what’s best for him…other than stories of his parents, which you could give him without taking him away, is there anything else you can find lacking and insufficient in my Nie sect?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Jiang Fengmian said, suddenly belatedly cautious.

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said flatly. “You persist in treating me as a child when I am a sect leader, the same as you. I have told you that the answer is no, and that the answer will remain no. You are in Qinghe, Sect Leader Jiang; if you’re going to insult me to my face, I suggest you pick better ground.”

Jiang Fengmian bit his lip and looked down. “You will not let me take him.”

“I will not,” Nie Mingjue agreed. And then, because Wei Ying really did deserve to know his parents, he added, “But I would be willing to consider something else.”

Jiang Fengmian looked up. “What do you mean?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, having just thought of the idea himself. “You have children around his age, don’t you? Send them to the Unclean Realm for a season, and I’ll send Wei Ying and my brother to the Lotus Pier for another season in return – it’s not an uncommon arrangement to build relationships between sects.”

An extremely old-fashioned and out-of-date one – nowadays, heirs would only go for long-term visits if there was a real reason to go, like Teacher Lan’s lessons; even the Lan sect, which was close allies to the Nie, would only come to visit for a few weeks.

But it was something he could offer. Something that would make clear to Wei Ying that he wasn’t being abandoned or given away or sold; with Nie Huaisang by his side, he would always remember that he was a part of the Nie sect first and foremost, and get some good experience in the world besides.

“I would like that,” Jiang Fengmian said slowly. “Yes – I would like that a great deal.”

“We’ll work out the details, then,” Nie Mingjue said. The sooner this meeting was over, the better; he wanted to go scream and hit something. “Is there anything else?”

“One more thing.”

Scream. And hit things. Many, many things.

“Yes?”

“You call him Wei Ying,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Have you thought of a courtesy name for him yet?”

He had offered the man an inch and he was trying to take a mile, but Nie Mingjue could see the desperate hope on his face, the need for him to leave some mark of the Jiang sect on Wei Ying – to honor his parents’ legacy or to make up for having failed them, it didn’t matter which.

Perhaps this would convince the man to finally drop the issue for good.

“I would be willing to listen to any suggestions you might have,” Nie Mingjue finally allowed, still hedging in case it was something really inappropriate. “What did you have in mind?”

“Wei Wuxian has a good ring to it,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully once the horrible meeting was finally over and they could creep out of their hiding spot to stretch their legs. It was getting a bit cramped in there. “And I suppose it really was the very least da-ge could do, after having all but told him off to his face – especially since the Jiang clan really is quite powerful. I’m really very proud of da-ge for managing to keep his temper as well as he did; we should do something nice for him in return. Don’t you think?”

He paused for a moment.

When he didn’t receive a response, he frowned. “Wei Ying?”

“Is that what a direct disciple means?” Wei Ying said, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“What?”

“A direct disciple,” Wei Ying repeated. His face was frozen stiff, maybe from shock or something. “You said it meant I’d be a member of the family.”

“That is what it means.”

“Yes, but you didn’t – you never said – being a direct disciple puts me in line to inherit the Nie sect?”

“Well, yes,” Nie Huaisang said, scratching the back of his head a little. He had no idea why Wei Ying was behaving so strangely. “I mean, the Nie clan runs the Nie sect, and we’re the Nie clan, so joining the Nie clan obviously means – ”

“There’s nothing obvious about it!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “You have cousins! Cousins and aunts and uncles and – there’s so many of them I can barely even keep count –”

“Branch families after many, many years,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “But Qinghe Nie doesn’t make everyone with a drop of blood in them a direct disciple; you have to be part of the main family for that.”

“But…!”

“But what?”

“It’s your sect,” Wei Ying said. “My surname isn’t even Nie!”

“Well, first off, stop assuming you’re going to inherit the sect because that requires both my brother and I to be dead,” Nie Huaisang said. “Which we have no current plans to be. Secondly, if you did end up as the only direct disciple left, you’d be required to marry in with one of the cousins and have Nie babies before you were allowed to actually be sect leader. So for the sake of your future marriage, you have to keep us alive –”

Wei Ying grabbed him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said, and Nie Huaisang very nobly decided not to complain about how his tears and snot were getting his very nice robes all wet. “I don’t know why you want me, but you do, and – thank you.”

“Of course we want you, you’re great,” Nie Huaisang said, delicately patting Wei Ying on the back. “Look at you, not just one sect wanting you, there are two fighting over you; how many people can say that…?”

“He wants my parents, not me,” Wei Ying said. “If I went there, he’d love me for them, and if I didn’t have anyone else, that’d be good enough – but da-ge picked me for no reason at all, and you grabbed onto me just because –”

“I mean, I did have some ulterior motives, I do so much less saber training now that you’re here –”

“Just accept the compliment.”

Nie Huaisang grinned. “Okay, fine. Besides, you can finally stop saying you need to pay me back now!”

Wei Ying pulled back and wiped his eyes. “How’s that?”

“Didn’t you hear da-ge? You’ve just gotten me a free vacation to Yunmeng for a whole season! It’s going to be great!”

“I hope so,” Wei Ying said. “We’ll be spending a lot of time with the Jiang sect heirs…I hope they’re as nice as Lan Zhan.”

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder. “Just accept it now, Wei Ying. No one’s ever going to be as perfect as Lan Zhan in your eyes.”

“Shut up. Do you know anything about them?”

“The Jiang sect heirs? There’s a girl and a boy, that’s all I know. They’re too young to be the subjects of gossip, though, so I can’t tell you anything about their likes and dislikes.”

“That’s fine,” Wei Ying said. “I guess we’ll find out when we see them.”

“Your dog is wonderful,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Thanks,” Wei Ying said, beaming. He liked the other boy already. “Yours are pretty great, too!”

“They are, aren’t they?” Jiang Cheng said, face lighting up. “This one’s Jasmine, and this one’s Princess, and the last one’s Lovely!”

“Mine’s Xiao Bai! And he’s big enough to be three dogs all together!”

“No kidding! I’ve never seen a dog that big! Why’s he that big?”

“Dunno. Da-ge says he’s a sheepdog from the mountain, and they get really big there.”

“Do they have to fight bears or something? I bet he could fight a bear.”

“Well, maybe if he had to,” Wei Ying said. “Unfortunately, I kind of raised him into a glutton, so now all he wants to do is lie around and eat meat –”

Xiao Bai barked.

“...and he knows the word for ‘meat’.”

“He’s so smart,” Jiang Cheng said, reaching out to rub Xiao Bai behind the ears. “Such a good boy –”

“Please tell me you like something other than dogs,” Nie Huaisang said to Jiang Yanli, who hid a giggle behind her sleeves. “Please. I can already foresee the rest of the season going like this.”

“Well, dogs are very distracting creatures,” she said, her eyes curving into crescents. “They’re warm and furry and all that. But I’d be happy to talk about something else with you…do you like painting?”

“Very much,” Nie Huaisang said, interest piqued at once. “Do you paint?”

“I’m average,” she said with a small shrug. “But I enjoy it. You’re welcome to join me, if you like – I don’t think A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian are going to stop anytime soon.”

“A-Ying can do it for hours all on his own,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully. “He used to be afraid of dogs, you know? I almost miss those days…can we really go paint?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know. We were sent here to learn, weren’t we? I thought it’d be lessons all the time. ‘Go to the training field!’, that sort of thing.”

Jiang Yanli smiled and visibly resisted the urge to pat his head. “Some lessons are taught outside of the training field. Do you know the motto of Yunmeng Jiang?”

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. Memorization had never been a strong point. “I mean…”

“It’s ‘attempt the impossible’,” Jiang Yanli told him. “To live bravely, without restraints on your heart.”

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to parse it, “you get to do whatever you want?”

“Not quite,” she laughed. “But we get more freedom to govern ourselves than most, yes. I don’t train too much – I don’t have much talent, you see.”

“Neither do I!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, beaming. “But da-ge’s always pushing me to do better, work harder, try more…”

He trailed off when he saw the wistful, almost envious expression on Jiang Yanli’s face.

“…don’t you like not being forced to cultivate?” he asked, a little hesitant.

“Your brother loves you very much,” Jiang Yanli said. “He only wants what’s best for you. He pushes you because he thinks you can do it.”

Nobody pushed her because nobody believed in her, she meant, and even Nie Huaisang – a devoted good-for-nothing – felt awkward about it.

She didn’t even have a sword.

“Well, don’t worry,” he said, clumsily trying to offer some comfort. “You’re coming to Qinghe next season, aren’t you? You’ll get more than your fill of people pushing you to do things there!”

“I’m sure,” Jiang Yanli said, not sounding as if she believed him at all. “But for the moment – do you want to go paint? And perhaps later we can convince A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian to go shoot kites while we pick lotus seeds.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Nie Huaisang said. “And maybe we can go to the market and see if they have any fans? I have a collection, you know.”

“Well,” Jiang Yanli said, smiling again. “If you have a collection, then of course…”

“I’m not sure I’m entirely suited for this, Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Yanli said, breathing hard.

“I don’t see why not,” Nie Mingjue said, putting Baxia up on his shoulder. “Take a walk around the yard so you don’t get cramped while your heart-rate comes down, then we can start again.”

“Sect Leader Nie, with all due respect, I wasn’t really intending on picking up something new – much less saber, which isn’t even practiced in the Jiang sect.”

“Well, you have to train in something, you didn’t bring your sword, and all we’ve got are sabers,” he pointed out with a shrug. “What else were you planning on doing while you were here?”

Jiang Yanli smiled a little. “Feminine activities?”

Nie Mingjue let his eyes drift over to the nearby field where three of his aunts were pulverizing a training model that looked almost startlingly similar to one of his uncles.

Jiang Yanli coughed as if she could hide the laugh. “I admit I was more in mind of – cooking. Or sewing, or painting…”

“You can do that in your free time,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Nie Huaisang sang your praises in every one of his letters; the least I can do to repay you is making sure you get the full benefit of your time here. Consider it a gift.”

Jiang Yanli did not seem especially pleased by the gift. Her face did exactly the same sort of ‘thanks I hate it’ twist as Nie Huaisang’s.

He wondered idly what excuse she was going to try next. She might not realize it yet, but she wasn’t going to have any more luck than Nie Huaisang had ever had.

“Sect Leader Nie…don’t you think I’m too old for this?”

He stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“Most sword cultivators start in their childhood –”

“You’re fourteen.”

“It’s more difficult to pick things up once you get above ten,” she said with a shrug. “There’s nothing to do about it –”

“Pick a skill you’re good at,” he said. “Any skill, and teach it to me.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You’re not that much younger than me, and I can still pick up new things,” Nie Mingjue said. “You teach me a skill, and I’ll teach you one, and that way we’ll be fair – and if I really can’t pick up yours and you really can’t pick up mine, then, and only then, will I admit that you have a point about our ages.”

Jiang Yanli still seemed uncertain, although she also looked somewhat intrigued. “Sect Leader Nie…what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of what? Of cultivating? You’re a cultivator, aren’t you? Isn’t that point enough?”

“I’m not going to ever be an outstanding cultivator,” she pointed out. “I’m going to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother –”

“We’re literally cultivating against the heavens,” Nie Mingjue interrupted her. “Aren’t you Jiang sect people supposed to attempt the impossible? You can be someone else’s and still be yourself.”

He’d never been very good with words, retreating when possible into silence, but something about what he’d said left a mark.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli said, and raised the practice saber she’d already adorned with a pink bow – a clear sign that her subconscious had committed to it, even if her mind hadn’t yet caught up. “I’ll take you up on that bet, Sect Leader Nie. Saber, and then you can join me in the kitchen to cook.”

Cooking? Cooking was fine, he could do cooking –

“And we’re not making barbeque.”

…maybe he couldn’t do cooking.

Whatever. That was a problem for later. Nie Mingjue lifted his saber and bared his teeth at her in a grin. “This time,” he said. “Make an effort, will you? I’d like to break a sweat sometime today.”

Her eyes flashed, and she attacked.

“You two are going to get along and that’s final,” Wei Wuxian announced, hands on his hips. “Now I’m going to get us some snacks and while I’m going you guys are going to get over yourselves, you hear me?”

He made a show of storming out the door, but the second he was outside he waved his hand furiously to send a passing servant to get the snacks and crept back to listen.

Neither Jiang Cheng nor Lan Zhan was his shidi – that was Nie Huaisang – and of course no one could match his da-ge, but he loved them both very much, so they had to get over this inexplicable rivalry they had.

They had to!

“…very special,” Lan Zhan was saying.

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said. He sounded unusually serious – unlike Lan Zhan, who was always serious (except when he was being teased, in which case he was delightfully flustered). “He’s just – I don’t know. It’s hard to share, you know?”

“En.”

“It’s…let me tell you about my sister.”

Wait, why were they talking about Jiang Yanli? She was great, but not relevant to the issues here.

“When she first came to Qinghe, she got into a bet with Sect Leader Nie over…I don’t even know what. She practiced the saber a lot. And then she took one of the sabers home, and she kept practicing with it – my parents were pretty confused, but they mostly let her do what she likes, and Mother was pleased that she’d at least started cultivating something even if it was the wrong thing – and…she’s happier now. Like a candle lit for the first time.”

“…I understand,” Lan Zhan said, which, good for him because Wei Wuxian was totally confused. “It was the same for me. The first ray of sunlight in the morning.”

“Yes! Exactly like that.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“I suppose,” Jiang Cheng finally said, sounding rather begrudging about it, “that sunlight is meant to be shared.”

“En,” Lan Zhan said. “We are all equal under the sun.”

“I could manage equal,” Jiang Cheng said. “As long as we’re the same, yeah? Best friends.”

There was a brief pause, and then – “Best friends,” Lan Zhan echoed. “Agreed.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help himself: he burst in through the doors at once. “You can’t be each other’s best friends!” he exclaimed. “You’re my best friends!”

They both looked at him, eerily identical long-suffering expressions on their faces, and then they looked at each other, and then for some reason they both nodded to each other like they were sealing some sort of pact.

“Okay, it’s all decided,” Jiang Cheng said. “We’re all best friends from now on.”

“All of us?” Wei Wuxian said hopefully. “Both of you?”

They nodded.

“And Nie Huaisang, of course,” Wei Wuxian said. “We can’t leave him out! He’s my shidi!”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Lan Zhan assured him.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “I guess second place to the Nies isn’t bad, if it’s shared.”

“Xiao Bai,” Lan Zhan said.

“…third?”

“Suibian.”

“Fourth.”

Lan Zhan nodded.

“What are you two even talking about?” Wei Wuxian complained, but not really – he was too happy. He threw himself in between the two of them, wrapping an arm around each one. “I leave you alone for less time than it takes to make a cup of tea and suddenly you’ve got some sort of secret code…”

“Don’t worry, you idiot,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “We still like you the best.”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jiang fengmian #jiang yanli #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #light on the door

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buddiebeginz · 3 years

Text

So I finally got to watch 4x08 and I have a lot of thoughts so be prepared for a long rant.

For starters I literally groaned out loud when I saw they brought back Taylor Kelly. I know that some would make the argument well the only reason you don’t like her is because you want Buck with Eddie. If Eddie didn’t even exist I still wouldn’t like her and I definitely wouldn’t want her anywhere near Buck. She’s incredibly self centered doesn’t care who she hurts at times and can be really manipulative too. Like how she went out of her way to hurt Buck in front of Albert and Veronica for no reason. I get it if she didn’t totally understand why Buck asked her there but she could have said that to him privately. She could have left without turning it into a whole big spectacle to make Buck look like a dick.

Then the stuff she said to him in the hallway was just totally messed up. Buck called her because he got roped into the stupid double date thing and didn’t want to look like a loser in front of Albert and Veronica but also it’s clear he’s been feeling lonely for a while and didn’t want to be the third wheel. He should have communicated more to Taylor what was going on with the dinner but nothing about what he was doing was malicious or manipulative to me, Buck can just be kind of clueless at times.

When they were in the hallway Taylor made it seem like Buck used her. That he basically wanted people to see him with “famous” Taylor Kelly the reporter. The thing is when Taylor got to the apartment she thought that her and Buck were going to have dinner and hook up. She was clearly planning on using Buck for sex like she has before, yet she accuses him of using her.

She called him needy and said that he can’t stand the idea of someone not liking him. To which he ends up apologizing. Watching this I’m like WTAF are you apologizing for Buck? This woman is trashing the shit out of you and you’re standing there apologizing?! I mean this is what I’m talking about when I say she’s manipulative. Like I said before Buck should have communicated better what was going on that night but it’s also not his fault that Taylor assumed he was calling her over for a hook up. I also don’t think Buck called her because she’s sort of famous and he wanted to look good or to use her, I think he didn’t want to look like he’s all alone when everyone around him has someone. He had seen her recently and talked to her about things he’d been dealing with so I think she was the first person he could think of to help him and likely the only one really.

Even after Buck tried to explain some of this to her and tried to be vulnerable about how he was feeling what does she do? She laughs at him then basically calls him a liar and tells him that he treats his friends shitty and his issues with Albert are his fault. Never mind the fact that Buck had opened up to her about feeling uncomfortable about his roommate dating a woman he dated and bringing her home to their house. Never mind the fact that Taylor knows nothing about Buck and his relationships.

I mean she says something earlier in the episode “your life is nothing but meaningful relationships” (talking about the 118) but that’s pretty obvious to anyone who meets them so I don’t give her much credit for that. Not to mention a while back she spent time in the firehouse filming so that was easy enough to see then. But the fact that she could spend time with Buck and he could open up to her the way he has multiple times through out the show and she could still make the kind of snap judgments she does about him or use him the way she does is just awful.

By the end of the episode the shows tries to make Taylor look like this poor sad woman who is dealing with so much and I think they were even trying to make the connection that she was also feeling alone like Buck feels alone. They also try to make it seem like she just wants to help people, again I think trying to connect her to Buck and his innate desire to help everyone around him but I don’t think she’s anything like Buck and I still can’t stand her.

I really hope people haven’t forgotten that this was the same fame hungry woman that was ready to air footage of Bobby (calling out to his dead daughter) and almost jumping off the roof when he had eaten laced brownies. She made it clear when we met her when kind of a person she is. That she was the kind of person who would probably sell her own mother if it meant furthering her career. The thing is I definitely believe characters who make mistakes or who start out as villainous or problematic should be allowed to grow and change (I mean some of my favorite characters are ones that have started out awful) but this doesn’t feel like a character that has changed. At all. The way she went out of her way to try and humiliate Buck in front of Albert and Veronica and the things she said in the hallway prove that. I’ll be utterly disgusted if they try to pair her up with Buck.

------------

I’m just really tired of how the show seems to treat Buck. I have no problem with characters going through hard times, dealing with others being awful to them, or even abuse. These are all things that happen in real life and can make for great storylines. But if you’re going to show a character repeatedly going through something it should serve a purpose, it should be leading towards something and I’m not sure if the 911 writers get that. I love the show but sometimes I feel like they’re just putting Buck through stuff for the hell of it.

Like we’ve repeatably seen women treating Buck awful which in an of itself isn’t a problem if it’s going somewhere. Like the show could use that as way to say Buck is always picking the wrong people and has problems with speaking up for his needs (likely because of his family). There’s a lot the show could explore with Buck’s relationships especially with him seeing a therapist. Unfortunately though we haven’t been seeing him talking to the therapist and especially after this recent episode where it feels like the same old same old (i.e. a woman treats Buck like crap and Buck apologizes) it just doesn’t feel like there’s a good enough reason they keep writing Buck’s storylines like this.

First there was Abby who I feel like used Buck in some ways to jump start her life back up and then ghosted him when she didn’t need him anymore. Then she didn’t even take responsibility for that when she saw him again nor did the show really let Buck call her out on how she made him feel really. Then there was Ali who knew how dangerous Buck’s job was when she got involved with him and did anyway then chose to drop him when he was going through one of the toughest times of his life. The show didn’t even do Buck the dignity of really talking about what happened with that relationship she just was gone by the next season.

There was Taylor who just used Buck for sex and for her career and who the show tried to paint as being like the female version of Buck which I thought was kind of bullshit. Buck has made plenty of mistakes in his life and he certainly was all about sex when we first met him in season 1 but in the first place Buck would have never sunk to the kind of lows Taylor has just for his career. Being a firefighter is everything to Buck but the 118 are like his family and he wants to be a firefighter to help people not just for fame or glory. There was the lawsuit but Buck didn’t even realize how much that asshole lawyer was going to go after the 118 and I’m pretty sure if he did he wouldn’t have done it. You can tell when Buck talks about it to Eddie how much he still regrets it. As for all the sex Buck was having it’s clear he was looking for a more meaningful connection and just hadn’t learned yet that wasn’t where he was going to get it. Not to mention it seemed like a lot of the women he was sleeping with were just using him to an extent like the therapist who slept with him. Buck is very different from Taylor who in my eyes is not a very empathetic or emotional person and seems much more about herself than anyone else. So the shows need to compare them really gets on my nerves.

Then there was his date with Veronica which was just ridiculous. My problem wasn’t that they had her be some strawman SJW feminist who got offended by everything it was the way they had Buck respond. As usual he wasn’t allowed to stand up for himself and just had to sit there and take the mistreatment.

It hasn’t just been in romantic relationships either we saw what Buck went through with his family and the show just kind of closed that off with Buck forgiving them for a lifetime of abuse.

I don’t get why the show constantly lets Buck get treated like crap by so many people around him and without standing up for himself no less. Like I was so angry about that scene in the hallway with him and Taylor. It would have been one thing if Taylor had lashed out at him (maybe taking her own issues out on him something she could have explained later) but the show still should have had Buck push back against some of the bs she was spewing. I’m tired of Buck having to hear how much of a failure he is. I’m tired of seeing Buck hurt by people he tries to let in. Buck would literally die for the people he loves. He almost has numerous times. So to hear someone like Taylor trashing him and telling him he wasn’t a good friend was so infuriating.

-------

I mean it’s not that everything with Buck is handled bad. I love the relationships he has with the 118 and especially with Bobby and Athena. Her and Bobby are almost like parents to Buck especially when it feels like Buck never really had the family he deserved and I love them for that. There’s also Maddie who has always been there for Buck and their relationship is so important. But the best relationship Buck has is obviously with Eddie. He’s the one who gets Buck the most and who Buck is the most himself with. Buck doesn’t have to hide or hold back with Eddie and neither one of them are afraid to call each other out when necessary.

I love the relationship Buck has with Eddie and I really want them to just get together already, though I know there’s no guarantee that will happen. But if the plan isn’t for Buddie to happen I wish that the show would stop dangling that relationship around every episode as a way to pull viewers in because it’s clear they know how popular they are. I especially wish that the show would be clearer about what they plan to do with Buck’s sexuality. I feel like there’s been so many hints since the beginning that Buck could be bi and I don’t know where the show is going with it.

I’ve seen people saying that Buddie isn’t going to happen and it doesn’t need to happen because there’s already other lgbtq characters on 911 and there’s a main lgbtq ship on Lone Star but I disagree. Buddie could still happen but even if it doesn’t the show could definitely still explore Buck’s sexuality. It would be so important to have a main male character who has been straight presenting on a popular prime time show come out as bi. There’s this misconception that representation in media for lgbtq isn’t that big of a deal anymore because there are so many lgbtq characters now but it is still a big deal and many shows still don’t feature lgbtq characters and storylines prominently nor do their stories justice. They definitely don’t when it comes to bi characters especially bi men.

To have a character like Buck have a storyline that would explore his sexuality would be huge. It would be even more huge if it was about him coming out as bisexual. Biphobia is a big problem not just from straight people but within the lgbtq community maybe even more so in some ways. Popular media rarely shows accurate good depictions of bi storylines. Even when there are bi characters on shows or movies we usually don’t get to see their journey like we have in media through the years with other lgbtq characters. We rarely get to see what it’s like to figure out you’re bi and to live as a bi person. As someone who is bi myself I really want this to change.

The show has made many hints to Buck’s sexuality and it’s something that they could easily explore. If they aren’t planning on going that route though I don’t get why they keep hinting at it. I don’t get why they’ve had multiple instances where people have commented on Buck’s sexuality or being with Eddie and he never corrects them. I mean once would be enough but what is the point of the show doing it over and over? I mean the Lone Star moment was just crazy to me if they don’t plan on doing anything. It didn’t just feel like a throw away joke moment especially since Buck didn’t deny it and Eddie came around the corner it felt like the show was saying something.

If the show isn’t planning on having Buck come out or putting Eddie and him together why does it feel like Buck and Eddie behave almost like a married couple? I mean they connect and know each other almost more than some of the actual married couples on the show. It feels like Buck is Chris’ other dad. I mean we saw Eddie going out with Ana but at the same time it almost felt like it did with Shannon like Eddie just trying to do right by Christopher and make sure he has mom. After the date the one Eddie comes home to is Buck. When Chris is upset the one he runs to is Buck.

If Eddie and Buck and Chris aren’t meant to be a family was does the show keep making it seem like they are each other’s safe space? It’s clear that the connection Buck and Eddie have goes beyond just being friends. It’s just unclear why the show has developed them this way and what they plan on doing with them now.

One last thing in this giant ramble. This episode was called “Breaking Point” but I feel like we didn’t see Buck’s breaking point. I’m hoping that all these bread crumbs are leading somewhere in exploring Buck’s sexuality maybe this episode title was a clue that Buck’s breaking point is coming. We’ve had lots of hints about his sexuality throughout the course of the show and this season in particular there’s been a lot of talk about how lonely he feels and how disconnected he seems to feel from everyone. So maybe we’ll get to see him talking to his therapist and exploring some of these feelings. Maybe if Eddie continues to see Ana Buck will end up feeling jealous and this will bring up feelings he hasn’t wanted to confront yet, about himself and about Eddie. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

#thanks for reading if you made it to the end #sorry these are always so long #911 fox #evan buckley #buddie #911 4x08 #911!#buck s4 #long post #911fan #taylor kelly*

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animemangasoul · 3 years

Text

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 8/10?

His mission debrief was held in private with only himself standing in the middle and Master Yoda sitting across from him. Feemor was grateful for that. It was a small thing, a tiny gesture of consideration but it meant a lot to him and Feemor was sure his Great Grandmaster was aware of it, after all, Yoda had always been kind to him and that hadn't changed even after Qui-Gon Jinn disowned him.

So standing there; ignoring his throbbing knee for all it was worth, he carefully and with enough detail to suffice, summed up his mission.

The disastrous mission that nearly cost him everything. Might still be costing him everything. With the haunting voice at the back of his mind, echoing a constant reminder off his stripped humanity, of his lost dignity of……

When he closed his eyes at night, he could still hear it. The roars, the thirst for blood, the calling of death. He could still feel the grim of filth under his nails, the rot of expiration on his skin and he could taste it, the pain.

He'd fought in the Pits for over a year and a half and it clung to him like the stink of penance yet to be absolved.

After all, how could he call himself a Jedi if he'd killed to survive?

And yet….. here he was, back in old Jedi robes, skin clean, shaved head although marred with scars, actually alive with dust of blonde locks peaking out and hiding his damaged scalp.

He was tainted, Feemor knew that all too well. Maybe if he'd been a Shadow he would have been able to set aside the disgust, the horror, the guilt, but…. He wasn't. He was just an ordinary Jedi Master who'd gotten himself into more than he could handle and then felt too honour bond not to do the logical thing. The smart thing. He'd let his emotions rule him and now…now he was giving his report as if…. As if what he'd done, what he'd sacrificed had all been part of the mission.

"Hard on yourself you are," Master Yoda spoke up, breaking him out of his spiraling thoughts. "Believe this you might not, but the right thing you did. Saved those Padawans and force sensitive kids you did with the choice you made."

Feemor swallowed thickly, eyes blinking furiously to hold back the stinging of tears. The pride in Master Yoda's voice was obvious as the sun was bright and any other day, any other time in his life Feemor would have soaked it in like a starving wild animal thrown a piece of meat . But after everything….. After his failed mission….. After all that he'd been through. The praise felt like hot coal against his skin and he found himself recoiling away from it. Eyes drilling into his boots, bottom lip catching between his teeth.

How had everything gone so wrong?

The mission had been simple. Track down missing lightsabers currently being sold in the black-market by a notorious black-market dealer, known to have belonged to the Coruscant Temple's missing Padawans. Report back and let the Shadows handle the rest. Simple enough. Or it should have been. It's after all the reason why he took it in the first place.

Coming back from a grueling long mission on the outer-rim, Feemor had taken it as a chance to finally get that break he'd been putting off for so long. He would go, track down the dealer, report back and let a Shadow take over.

Simple enough.

Simple….enough.

But it wasn't. Because loathe as he was to admit it, Feemor was nothing if not Qui-Gon Jinn's former Padawan and if there was anything that their lineage was infamous for was their ability to get into more trouble than was imaginable. The simplicity of the mission should have clued him in from the very beginning. But it hadn't and that was his first mistake.

And now here he was, unable to breathe a single minute without remembering the hands touching his skin, without recalling the foul breaths of those masked men, sizing him up like nothing more than the slave he'd become. Unable to go a day without remembering the fear, the terror of even taking something as innocent as a nap for you never knew……

["Left, you could have," Master Yoda had said when he'd come off the ship yesterday. "Choose to stay you did."]

And he had. He had chosen it. No one had forced his hand. No one had been there to force him. The slice of a knife, the burns of hot metal rods, the combats of death, he'd endured it all for a chance to track down the kids. Kids he'd found out weren't actually dead but being……

He'd chosen to stay in the darkness. Freedom had been in touch. Fresh air, warm clothes, home, it had all been so very close. He'd managed to escape the clutches of Mir'randa, managed to collect his lightsaber, info chip in hand, just a step away from his passage out of the accursed planet. He could have taken it, but he hadn't because at the end of it all. Despite everything he'd been through, everything he would continue to endure, he was a Jedi. So when he'd sensed the new shipment.

The force sensitive shipments.

The choice became obvious. So painfully obvious.

They'd been kids after all. Some unknown, unfamiliar but most of them….. They'd been theirs. Jedi Padawans. Their missing Jedi Padawans, and now those kids, terrified, hurt, having been through force knows what were about to be pulled into the very nightmare Feemor wanted to escape, and what had he done?

He'd watched as his window of escape closed. Watched as his last hope off the planet disappeared with a single droid; carrying a single chip meant for the Jedi temple and he'd made his way back inside. Back into the darkness. Back to the clutches of Mir'randa, back to being less than human. Less than a Jedi. Knowing this might very well be the last time he'd be able to sense the force dancing and flittering around him because this time around he knew his force-suppressant collar would likely be impossible to remove.

And for what?

For…..

What……

Gritting his teeth, Feemor dug his fingernails into his palm, the jolt of pain bringing him back to reality. Back from there.

"Sit down, you should." Feemor choked down a strangled noise of despair and shook his head, left knee straining under him.

"No thank you, Master." For he would be damned if he let himself show weakness. Not when he'd failed so spectacularly. Not when he'd only manage to save seven of them. Just seven. Four Padawans and three force sensitive kids.

Only seven when there had been sixteen.

He'd only managed to save seven……seven kids out of sixteen.

His stomach turned. An image of the Pit flashing through his mind for a single agonizing moment before he brutally shoved it to the back of his mind with the rest of his darkest deeds.

Seven.

"Will that be all, Master Yoda?" He managed to keep his voice stable even as his knee screamed, his heart thudded like the dreams of war and his scars ached with every breath. "Because I need to find my former Master and have a long overdue conversation with him."

A flicker of amusement danced across his Great Grandmaster's eyes before it was drowned out by concern yet again. If the concern was for him, for Qui-Gon, for Obi-Wan? Feemor didn't quite know. But he appreciated non-the-less. "A talking to he needs," the old troll rumbled, gimer-stick hitting the ground twice. "But first to the Halls you need to go. Grateful I am for the people of Dugmulo for taking care of you and the young children, but a secondary check up by our own, ease my heart it would."

Feemor smiled, it made his cheeks ache, strain. "Of course Master," he said, clasping his hands under his robes and giving a shallow bow; his knee protested but he refused to let it bother him. "I'll do that right away."

After all, he had all the time in the world now, didn't he?

He'd busted the ring, he'd shut down Mir'randa's Games, he'd…..yes, yes he'd failed to save them all but he'd saved some and those he hadn't been able to, he….. those Padawans, their bodies, he'd recovered them for the proper Jedi burial they deserved and for the others, Master Yoda had secured a journey back to their own families as their last resting place. Had it broken something fundamentally vital within him to do so? Perhaps. Had it cost him sleepless nights fraught with horrors brought on his creaking shoulders, horrors he'd been subjected to and caused himself to keep them all alive for just one more day. Yes, of course, yes. But…..

It was all over now, wasn't it?

He'd come back. He was home. Where he belonged. It had taken weeks.

After the Pit, after the Jedi came to the rescue, weeks of bacta tanks and treatments and several weeks more to ensure the safety and security of those kids who still----

He swallowed thickly, refusing to allow himself to collapse in front of his Grandmaster, no matter how much that might help liberate the choking guilt clawing at his throat because how could any of these kids trust him still after everything they'd seen him do? After the scars and burns and tears and blood. After seeing the filthy arena filled with the bodies of their fallen under the same sky as the cheers of their spectators?

How did anything he'd done to get the word out, to stop the trafficking, how did any of that lessen his desperate actions to keep them alive for another day, another week, another month, year…..how did it make up for it?

But he had all the time in the world now.

All the time.

And he'd come back for a reason. For Obi-Wan Kenobi. Because with all his newly acquired scars, still, no matter how, somehow being repudiated by Qui-Gon ran the deepest.

So what could he do but try and help his Padawan brother the only way he knew how? Running off to go fix what his former Master had somehow managed to break in his absence. As if Xanatos hadn't been enough of a nightmare to deal with as it was.

Maybe after he took care of that he could answer back Kuflo's insisting messages and Androlet's updates on how things were going Dugmulo. Maybe, maybe.

The Halls would just have to wait a little while longer. Because if he could do one right thing today, maybe it would be his first act to wipe away the blood marring his soul.

He took a step back from Master Yoda and turned to the door, wincing at the strain that simple action put on his knee; saying a soft goodbye.

"May the force be with you Great Grandpadawan."

Feemor's lips twitched, it didn't reach quite reach his eyes. "May the force be with you as well, Master." And with that, he left.

One foot in front of the other. Eyes focused on nothing but the path ahead. Ignoring the murmurs around him, the gossip, the looks of concern at his bandaged appearance and his limp. He ignored it all. Only allowing himself the briefest glimmer of satisfaction at the positive mutters on one Obi-Wan Kenobi that he caught every now and then. Apparently being the new Padawan of the Master of the Order was something to behold.

It did hurt a bit, Feemor silently had to admit to himself, not having had the chance to take on the kid himself.

After all, that was the primary reason why he'd wanted to rush back to begin with, despite initially deciding to supervise the imprisonment of the Gamers, but it hurt less knowing that the kid hadn't been thrown to the side for too long. That he hadn't been alone, confused, broken hearted for months as he wondered what he'd done wrong to be discarded like his time with Qui-Gon meant nothing that he was worthle…..clenching his fists tight enough to leave dents, Feemor gritted his teeth.

This wasn't about him. Going down this path would only lead to his suffering. Only reopen old wounds he was not quite ready to acknowledged. So he needed to focus on the here and now. This wasn't about him.

It was about Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and little Skywalker and what he, Feemor could do to make things better. That was it. Nothing more. After all, hadn't he already lost his chance to get to know his Padawan brother with his own indecisions? He could have gotten to know him any time he'd wanted, but he had….he'd been so angry, so hurt, and he'd refused to have anything to do with the must innocent party in all of it. And that wasn't, shouldn't be an excuse.

So Master Windu was fine. Great even. The perfect Master probably. The one who stepped up when no one else would.

And…. He…..Feemor….he was not well. Not anymore. So taking on a Padawan brother who probably didn't even know who he was, that was just a recipe for disaster. So this was good. 'Yes,' he told himself firmly, taking one step after the other as he traced his steps from the council chambers to the Room of Thousand Fountains. 'This is good. Master Windu is a perfect choice so all I can do for Obi-Wan now,' when his knee nearly buckled under him, he again regretted not putting on the brace. 'Is to find Master Jinn and set things straight. For the betterment of everyone.'

'One problem with that plan though,' he grimaced, slamming a hand against the nearest wall for stability. Taking a moment to be grateful he was in an empty hallway and no one was there to witness his momentary weakness.

Frowning down at his right leg, he bared his teeth in frustration. Looked like his knee would refuse to carry him all the way to his destination after all.

"Kriff it," he hissed, teeth biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Kriff it all."

The agony coursing through his leg was almost unbearable. It had stiffened significantly on his walk over to the Council debriefing and Feemor should have known then that he wasn't going to make it but……

Weakness Is Death

That had been a mantra, his mantra that he'd lived by for what felt like forever. Instilled it in the kids. Bad'kuu, Kuflo, Gaa'ah, Androlet…. Everyone. He'd said it so many times it was all he knew how to say to them anymore. Weakness is death. To show a vulnerability was to allow yourself to be broken. To be scrapped from the inside out. The fingers. The touching, the prodding, the dragging…….

Weakness Is Death.

So Feemor refused to show it. To wear the brace, not in front of Yoda. Not in front of those who'd already seen his failures. Not when he needed to be strong and honorable to show…. To show he hadn't fallen.

He hadn't even been allowed to come back until several Jedi Masters had confirmed he hadn't turned. He was good. He was still a good Jedi, tainted yes, but not fallen. Not yet. And what a relief that revelation had been. To know that despite everything he'd done, he could still call himself a Jedi. But he wasn't delusional enough not to know he was still under keen observation. Falter once, fall one time and it was all over.

So, no knee brace.

He'd managed to make due in the Pit. Fighting with a bad knee was disadvantage enough without him broadcasting that fact to the entire arena. Spectators and fighters alike. He'd always had a weak right knee ever since that disastrous first mission he took as a Master, but it hadn't been too hard to deal with at first, even if he'd had to take up Jar'kai to make up for his lack of mobility when it acted up.

Jar'Kai had been a way for him to compensate for his damaged knee at first, nearly two years in the Pit however, and it had solidified itself as the only form he could trust to keep him safe. To keep him alive.

Protect yourself for no one else will protect you under the skies of Miiir.

Sinking to the floor, eyes blinking back the sudden wetness burning at the edges, Feemor allowed himself a moment to just loathe it all. The regret, the pain, the failure, the shame. And then he breathed in and let it go.

It wouldn't do to dwell on the unchangeable.

Shoulders sagging he let his head drop back with a gentle thud against the wall behind him and he let his eyes fall shut. It all felt rather heavy. Being back here, being back home.

Maybe a moment to rest his eyes would be enough. Just a moment. Until the pain dulled. Then he'd go see Master Jinn, talk to him about missing his recent appointments with the mind healers and maybe…..maybe finally get the chance to talk things out. Yeah, maybe.

But a moment turned into two. And two turned into three and before Feemor could help it, he was clutching at his knee with both hands. The agony unparalleled.

It burned like thousand knives being sliced through his skin simultaneously. Feemor grimaced, head throbbing with the nausea bubbling in the pit of his stomach, screaming at him in aguish. 'Make it stop,' he thought, squeezing harder, fingers digging into the joints, face ashen and bottom lip bleeding. 'Kriff, make it stop.'

And then, it did. Not by much, not even half way but enough to bring a sense of clarity to him. And it was only when his mind wasn't being clouded by the bolt of sheer agony dancing through his body; paralyzing him in place, that he noticed the cold hand resting across his forehead and one atop of his joined hands. Soothing sense of warmth intermingling with his force signature and somewhat dulling the pain coursing through his veins. And Feemor breathed, raising his eyes to come face to face with one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

----------

"Stop," he ordered when he finally found his voice behind the sudden lump in his throat, gently pushing those hands away even as he instantly missed the soothing force healing that came with them. But Obi-Wan looked like death warmed over himself and Feemor would be force damned if he let his first action back home be to hospitalize his Padawan brother. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

The young man kneeling in front of him didn't look convinced, brows furrowing slightly and lips pursed, but he did back away, choosing to sit down next to him; grunting as he adjusted himself against the wall, cane coming to rest by his side. Feemor raised a brow in question, making his Padawan brother laugh lightly.

"Anakin had his first lightsaber practice today," he said in answer, tapping his cane lightly. "I still have a hard time getting around so---" His smile is hallow and Feemor felt it echo in his soul.

"Yeah," he muttered back, looking down at his knee, toes curling with each pulsating burst of electric pain shooting down his leg. He shouldn't have walked on it for so long. "I get it."

"I suppose you do."

Feemor snorted. "When you say Anakin?"

"Skywalker, yes." Obi-Wan's voice was much more lighter this time. "He was….really excited about it and asked me to come so I did. I was on my way back when I----" here he trailed off, but Feemor knew exactly what he was trying not to say, and it made him flush with embarrassment.

"When you found me lying on the floor trying to tear my leg off with my bare hands?"

"Well," Obi-Wan muttered. "I wouldn't exactly say, lying." Feemor stared and Obi-Wan snorted. "Okay, you looked pretty helpless."

"Hey, you don't look so great yourself."

The answering grin was a lot brighter and more real than Feemor had expected and it tugged at his heart. Because somehow despite the dark circles under the kid's eyes, despite the paleness and the fragility to his frame, somehow, when he smiled, really smiled, Feemor could almost drown in the regret of all the wonderful years he'd missed with this kid. The years he could have known him if he had been less of a coward.

Checking up on him religiously didn't make up for not being there for him. For not protecting him against what was likely Qui-Gon's darkest years. To not be a buffer, a confidant, to be a brother. In that sense, Feemor supposed he was a lot like his former Master. Who was just as guilty in tracking his movement as he was in tracking Obi-Wan's without ever taking the first step in meeting the other party half way.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

His not so Padawan brother. Or all the more his Padawan brother for being tossed aside like himself.

Running a bandaged hand over his head; still feeling that momentary flicker of surprise at brushing against tufts of growing out blonde hair, the broken Jedi Master breathed in deeply and let it all out.

"Feemor," he said, pointing at himself. "My name is Feemor Einar."

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered. "I know."

"Oh?"

The Padawan nodded, fingers tapping away at his wooden cane. "You're the talk of the Temple."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan's voice was neutral as anything and Feemor silently allowed himself to be impressed. He'd never been very good at keeping his emotions in check. "Sounds to me like you stopped a force sensitive trafficking ring and ended a barbaric gladiator tournaments in one single mission."

Feemor couldn't quite suppress the flinch at those words, and it made him burn with shame. "Not soon enough I'm afraid."

"I didn't mean---" Obi-Wan started, clearly noticing his sudden change in demeanor. The harshness in his force signature, the darkness and Feemor internally cursed himself for losing his grasp over his emotions, for his Padawan brother should never sound so uncertain and worried around him. "I didn't mean to bring it up I only heard----"

"It's okay," Feemor cut him off, careful to keep his voice gentle this time despite how his soul screamed and his heart longed for him to hide away for all eternity. "I didn't mean……" He sighed. "It's just been….tough."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yeah."

Digging his nail into the crack between the tiles, Feemor focused on the pressure on his barely growing in nails and opened his mouth, keeping his voice playfully light. "I hear you're pretty famous around these parts yourself."

A beat and then another, silence filling up slowly between them and it's all Feemor could do to try and find a way to backtrack and try again? Figure out another way? Help? When his Padawan brother, pressed himself even tighter against the wall and clutched at his cane. "You could say that," he whispered, tone strained and part way broken. "You could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A single shake of the head.

Feemor hummed softly in understanding. "Then Obi-Wan Kenobi, it's a pleasure to officially meet you."

A huff. "Likewise Master Einar."

"You know who I really am, don't you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Not for long. Just after," The kid pulled at his braid. "Thanks for the bead by the way."

Dragging his focus away from his knee, Feemor nodded. "Of course."

A welcoming silence fell between them this time and Feemor was content with it. To sit there with his Padawan brother, after everything, just sit there with him. Not moving, not doing anything. And enjoy his company even if he didn't quite know how to connect with him yet. Even if they still had so much to talk about. And it's not like he didn't have a good reason. After all, the simple thought of trying to stand on his busted leg made his stomach do nauseating flips. But he couldn't stay here forever, not when he needed to see Qui-Gon and sort this all out, not when he still had that medical check up and the kids back at----

So when Obi-Wan bumped his cane against his shoulder and said "You look like you need this more than me," it's all Feemor can do not to drag the haunted looking kid into a desperate hug meant to suffocate with affection. Instead he grinned, taking the offered cane but still remaining seated.

"About Qui-Gon---"

"What about him?"

"I'm sorry that he did that to you."

Obi-Wan paused. And then, "I'm sorry he that to you too."

Feemor nodded back. "Thank you." And he meant it. Of course he meant it for there were very few who could truly understand what he'd been through and sympathize, even if he would never wish this on the kid given a choice, he was still so very grateful for the shared understanding no matter how much it grated on his dignity to admit so. "And I know it doesn't mean much, but I promise you Obi-Wan it wasn't your fault. Master Jinn, he's just…." He should really be getting up, but----. "He lashes out when he's cornered and that reflects badly on him and not you." He really really needed to get up and or he might never get up at all today and yet----. "You are wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi, I promise you that."

He should get up, but when the kid took a sharp intake of breath, then tentatively rested his head on his shoulder after a brief second of hesitation; auburn hair brushing under his chin, Feemor couldn't quite make himself do what he had to do because there was something that was so much more important right here, right now. "I'm going to punch him in the face." He didn't know why those words came out, but he meant them. And---

Obi-Wan laughed, it sounded a little bit broken and a little bit wet but it put a smile on Feemor's face and this one didn't quite ache as much. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks," he said, shifting closer so the kid could rest on his shoulder more comfortably. "I'll make it a good one."

Obi-Wan bumped their shoulders together and Feemor bumped him back, eyes feeling suspiciously damp.

Repudiated Padawans of Qui-Gon Jinn ought to stick together after all.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#Obi-Wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #feemor #master yoda #star wars #sw #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #qui gon a+ parenting #ch 8 #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi #fanfic #fic

27 notes · View notes

cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Whumpmas In July: Closure

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~3950

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Wakes & Funerals, Angst, fluff, smut, blow jobs, hand jobs, moving in together

A/N: BUT LIKE THIS IS JUST P0RN WITH *~*FEELINGS*~*

Conclusion, Starting from "Sleep"

Read After “Hope”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

Kakashi sits on the edge of the bed and watches Iruka dress. Black on black on black formalwear; he’s dressed similarly. Iruka is fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt, watching himself in the mirror that hangs on the closet door. His hair is still loose, slightly damp at the ends from his shower and curling at his shoulders. It’ll straighten as it dries, Kakashi knows.

“Love.”

Iruka drops his hands. He’s been fumbling the same button for a few seconds.

Kakashi stands and crosses the room. He reaches around Iruka, drawing his back to his chest, and finishes the line of the shirt. With gentle coaxing, he turns Iruka around and then pulls him back into a tight hug.

“We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this.”

Iruka rests his forehead on Kakashi’s shoulder, his hands light on his waist. “No one else will,” he says quietly.

“That doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let his spirit float aimlessly?”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He just holds Iruka tighter.

“I need this,” Iruka murmurs. “I need to do this.”

“Alright,” Kakashi kisses his hairline. “Alright.”

He stays at the edge of the cemetery, watching Iruka and the priest speak. He’s too far away to hear. He doesn’t care.

The fuck died a traitor to the village, a rapist and an abuser to the end.

All around this cemetery are the ancestors of civilian families who have lived in Konoha and the Land of Fire for decades, centuries. This… he doesn’t deserve to share the same space as them.

But.

Iruka fought for it. He petitioned Tsunade, and spoke to the priests, and arranged for as many of the funeral rites as he could reasonably be allowed. Mizuki’s name won’t go on the Stone, nor was he allowed to be enshrined in the cemetery with other fallen shinobi. And Iruka was… he accepted the terms.

So this morning they picked up Mizuki’s ashes and bones.

And now they’re here, with incense and candles and one lone white chrysanthemum in Iruka’s fingers. When they’d gotten here, the priest had asked if they wanted to wait for anyone else, but Iruka had sadly murmured to just get it over with. No one else was coming. Iruka had sent out notices to their classmates, old coworkers, the woman that Mizuki had after Iruka; no one had responded.

Kakashi had held Iruka through the disappointment last night. Iruka had hoped that the woman, Tsubaki, would at least show. But yesterday was just like today; nothing and no one else.

So he watches. The incense is lit and prayers are said, the bones and ashes are laid before the gravestone, covered with the wooden marker and one of the few photographs Iruka still has of Mizuki, one taken back when they both had finally completed their first year of teaching.

“This one,” he had said, picking it out of the album. He had put his fingertip lovingly over Mizuki’s face and held back tears, continuing, “We. We were happy, then… I think. Maybe it wasn’t real, but it felt—right.”

Finally the priest finishes the prayers and rites, and the ashes and bones are buried, the marker placed. The priest seems to offer Iruka their condolences one last time, and then leaves. Kakashi holds up a hand to stop them as they approach, and takes out a heavy envelope from his inner jacket pocket. With a slight bow he offers the envelope to the priest, and they accept it silently.

Iruka had told him he could cover the expenses for the service.

Kakashi needs to do this for him, though. It’s all he can do now, really.

Because he’s trying. He’s trying to be objective at least. But this dick abused his lover for years, conditioned him into acting certain ways under stress; and now Iruka takes a small cocktail of medication everyday to keep himself stable. And he can’t forget that, let alone forgive. He won’t.

He’s glad Mizuki’s dead. And also, he’s of the opinion that Mizuki doesn’t deserve the same rites that the dead typically receive. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with the same dignity that everyone else is—Minato-sensei, Obito, Rin.

(Not his father. He. He never did this for Sakumo. He was too young, in too much pain, and the village was all too pleased to see Sakumo gone. He regrets that now, but he can’t… well. The bones and ashes are still in the family shrine. Maybe…)

So instead he pays for the service, and for the cremation, and for the burial, and includes a significant donation to inspire the priests to come by and pray over Mizuki’s grave for the next year or so. Because that’s what Iruka would want. He would want someone to help this poor fuck, even if it couldn’t be himself.

Kakashi wonders if Mizuki knew how lucky he was, to have the devotion of the one person in the entire village—likely the entire world—who knows only how to see the good in people. He wonders if Mizuki knows now how lucky he is, that even though Iruka killed him, even though Mizuki raped him and beat him and brutalized him… Iruka is here, when no one else would step up, praying over his ashes for his soul to find peace.

Because—and it hurts to admit it—Iruka loved him.

Iruka smiles and the sun comes out; Iruka leans on Kakashi and the south winds warm him from the inside out; Iruka kisses him and it’s a revelation. And it’s his capacity to love, and especially to love broken people, that’s given Kakashi the chance to have this. Not his humanity—though that is such a bonus—but this unending fount of love Iruka seems to be made of; that’s his strength.

It’s also his most dire weakness. And Mizuki took advantage of that. He took all the love Iruka gave him and twisted it into something dark and bitter. But instead of running or fighting like any other shinobi should have, Iruka’s response was simply to love Mizuki harder. Maybe they drove each other to the heights of insanity they eventually reached.

Kakashi will never know. And after today he won’t care.

He enters the cemetery to go and stand silently beside Iruka, still praying. Eventually, Iruka picks up his head and leans against Kakashi’s thigh.

“It wasn’t all bad, y’know,” Iruka mutters.

Kakashi doesn’t respond, only carefully places his hand on Iruka’s hair and petting gently.

“After the Kyūbi attack, we roomed together until we graduated from the Academy,” Iruka says. “Sometimes the heat would go out and he would come and huddle with me with all the extra blankets we had.”

He was probably just cold too.

“He stayed up all night with me to practice the clone jutsu before our final test, so we could graduate together.”

He was using your natural ability to teach to learn a last-minute technique.

“He taught Naruto how to roll omelets. That was. That was a nice morning.”

He… hmm.

“He wasn’t always a monster,” Iruka sniffles. “I… He was there, Kakashi.”

“I know, Love.”

“I never wanted this.”

“I know.”

“I thought… For so long, I thought we would be together forever. He was everything. And it was… it was okay. I didn’t know it could be any different.” Iruka looks up at him, tears stuck in his eyes. “He had it easy, didn’t he? I forgave everything he did to me.”

“But he took you for granted.”

“What he did was underestimate my protectiveness,” Iruka sighs. “Both times. It ended our relationship, and then it ended his life.”

They stay in the cemetery for a long time. Kakashi listens to Iruka tell him stories about Mizuki the boyfriend and tries to meld that with his own memories of Mizuki the abuser. When they leave, Iruka drops the chrysanthemum on top of the marker with a finality that screams where the rest of the cemetery is silent.

They go home later, and Iruka stops on the sidewalk looking at his house while Kakashi pushes the fence open and starts down the path to the front door. His black jacket is slung over his shoulder, and the sunset warms his skin and casts a reddish-orange glow onto his pale skin. He stops and turns, one foot propped on the second step up to the porch, and smiles back at Iruka.

That Iruka can tell he’s smiling with three-quarters of his face covered and three meters of space between them… Iruka realizes he’s so far gone on this man. He has been for months.

But Kakashi looks so perfect, waiting for him outside the house.

“Coming, Love?”

Iruka flushes, scratches at his scar, and walks up the path. When he’s close enough to Kakashi, he murmurs, “Hopefully later,” and passes on to the door to unlock it and release the wards. He leads the way inside and looks back over his shoulder to see Kakashi looking at his ass hungrily, still standing in the same spot and position he’d been when Iruka had passed him.

He grins. “Coming, Love?”

Kakashi looks up at him and whines, “Don’t tease.”

Iruka laughs. He turns and goes inside, leaving the door open for Kakashi to follow him. He tosses his keys onto the table in the genkan and begins toeing off his shoes.

Kakashi comes and stands behind him, putting his nose right in Iruka’s hair behind his ear. “Love you,” he mutters.

“Love you too,” Iruka responds. He twists and kisses Kakashi on the cheek, still masked.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Not hungry,” Iruka says. He finishes getting his shoes off and steps out of the genkan. He holds out his hands for Kakashi to take, and grins when he has Kakashi close again, now in the living room. “Though, if you’re on the menu…”

Kakashi takes down his mask, groaning deep in his chest. “I thought you said no Icha Icha lines.” He slips his arms around Iruka’s neck while Iruka’s hands go to Kakashi’s hips.

Iruka leans in slowly. “Are you really complaining?”

“No. No, gods, no. Please kiss me.”

Iruka deliberately kisses Kakashi on the corner of his mouth. And when Kakashi tries to turn into the kiss, he trails kisses away from Kakashi’s lips, across his jaw and down his neck.

“Iruka—!” Kakashi whines.

He walks them back to the couch, licking at Kakashi’s neck the whole while. He sits down and Kakashi falls after him, straddling his lap and cupping his face.

“It’s okay? Can I—?”

“Kakashi, please keep kissing m—”

He does. He dives in and coaxes Iruka’s lips apart so their tongues can glide together. All the while his hips are slowly rocking against Iruka’s; he grabs Kakashi low on his hips and urges him to grind faster.

“You and your—oh, gods—fucking suit,” Kakashi pants into his mouth. “Gorgeous. Godsdamned gorgeous in this.”

Iruka tips his head back and lets Kakashi kiss and lick down his neck. Fingers grapple at his tie and collar, fumble with his shirt. Iruka’s own hands squeeze Kakashi’s ass, full and warm in his palms.

“Want you,” Kakashi murmurs against his throat. “Want. I want to see you come. Can I do that for you tonight? Please, please let me make you come.”

Iruka pushes Kakashi’s head up with two fingers under his chin and kisses him. Kakashi’s hands stop their pursuit of stripping him out of his shirt and instead cup Iruka’s face, still muttering please, please, please, all the while rocking and grinding in Iruka’s lap and—

And—

Oh, how’s he supposed to say no to that?

“Okay,” Iruka kisses him. “Um. Okay. Just. I don’t…”

And then Kakashi says, "I want you to fuck me."

And something in Iruka stops.

“Want to—hmm—feel you move in me,” Kakashi rambles. He continues unbuttoning Iruka’s shirt, exposing more and more bronze skin. Iruka's chest is broad and muscled and perfect, just like the rest of him, and Kakashi slips off of his lap to settle on his knees between Iruka’s thighs; he leans in and laps at Iruka’s clavicle, down his sternum, drifts aside to catch a nipple in his teeth. Iruka’s soft hum and fingers in his hair tell him he’s doing good so he flicks his tongue against the bud between his teeth. His own eye rolls back to hear Iruka’s cry of pleasure.

Down further, he keeps undoing buttons and parting fabric. He lays kisses all over Iruka’s belly, cups his erection through his pants, and glances up at Iruka before he goes for his belt and trousers.

“Please.”

“What—um—what are you…?” Iruka can’t seem to get the words out, but his chest is heaving with his breath and the flush on his cheeks is staining his flesh all the way down his neck. He’s-he’s beautiful.

“I. I really want to suck you off,” Kakashi says. “And then, if you’re up for round two, I want you inside me.”

Iruka takes his cheek in hand and smiles and says, “We can. We can definitely try that.”

“I love you.”

Iruka kisses him again, soft and sweet. “Love you too. But let’s go to bed, yeah?”

Kakashi can agree with that. He stands up and pulls Iruka along by the hands. He’s giddy and excited—almost as much as when Iruka lets him eat him out, but this excitement has the twinge of newness to it. He’s wanted to get Iruka’s cock in his mouth since the first time they had gone to bed together, and now, finally, he’s getting it.

He’s a bit lightheaded by the prospect, if he’s honest.

Once they’re in the bedroom, Iruka begins unbuttoning Kakashi’s shirt, while Kakashi plays with Iruka’s buckle. Iruka moves to the cuff buttons at each wrist, and then returns to Kakashi’s chest to part the fabric and slide his palms over his undershirt and up to his shoulders. He pushes the shirt off and pulls it down his arms, dragging his palms and fingertips along his pale skin and raised scars. The shirt is tossed and Iruka returns to the undershirt, lifting slowly from the bottom and smirking at how Kakashi’s abs jump at his touch.

The undershirt and mask join the shirt on the floor, and Iruka goes for Kakashi’s belt, but is halted by his own belt and trousers being undone. Kakashi let Iruka have his bit of fun; but he’s really got to get that cock in his mouth.

“I love you,” he murmurs again. He leans in and kisses Iruka’s cheek, down to his jaw and back to his lips; traces his ribs with his fingers and groans at the dips of muscle definition on his abdomen. “You’re perfect, and I love you.”

Iruka’s panting lightly, his eyes closed and his lips shiny with spit—his or Kakashi’s, who’s keeping track anymore? Kakashi swallows the whimpering moan he pulls from Iruka’s throat as he finishes stripping both of them, their clothing a pile of fabric on the floor.

He urges Iruka to lay down on the bed, takes hold of his underwear once he’s prone, and asks again, “Is this alright?”

Iruka’s response is to raise his hips and tip his head to the side. He has a wet, red mark on his neck that may bruise by morning if Kakashi’s not careful.

He slips the last bit of fabric off and throws it aside. Iruka’s cock, hard and reddened, bobs onto his belly and smears precome across his skin. He blushes furiously, and it’s perfect.

Kakashi crawls onto the bed, spreading Iruka’s legs and settling himself between thick muscular thighs. First he kisses the soft, darker skin of his inner thighs, then trails his nose up through the thatch of hair around the base of his cock. He darts out his tongue to taste and relishes the whimper he receives. One hand joins his mouth in worship, gently cradling the thick cock while his tongue licks all around the base.

“K’shi. Love.”

The most subtle of shifts has him positioned above the head of Iruka’s cock. He licks up a bead of precome at the tip, closing his eyes to savor it. Continuing to cradle this precious member in one hand, he begins to press open-mouth kisses all along the shaft. His thumb caresses the tip and spreads the precome that keeps leaking.

Then Kakashi licks a wide stripe up the underside, base to tip, and sucks the head into his mouth—

And Iruka sobs.

Kakashi lifts his head, letting Iruka slip from his mouth but still holding him in one hand, and checks in—”Iruka?”

“Don’t stop,” Iruka whimpers. “Please. Please don’t stop.”

Relieved, Kakashi kisses his navel, his hips; strokes his cock with a slow, steady palm; and only when he hears Iruka cry out again—

“Gods among us, Kakashi, please!”

—does he slip his lips back over his head and take Iruka as far into his mouth as he can. He’s not long, but he’s thick and Kakashi’s jaw aches to hold him on his tongue; a slow breath out has Kakashi sliding the very tip of Iruka’s cock down his throat and relishing the fresh, louder cry he receives for the motion. He can hold Iruka in his throat for twenty-four seconds before needing to pull back. He’s not like Iruka, with no gag reflex and a penchant for swallowing long cocks and holding them in his throat. He bobs his head, drooling over the thick shaft and moaning at the taste of more precome in the back of his mouth.

Kakashi had been braced on his elbow, holding Iruka’s hip with a careful grip. But now he shifts, settles his weight more on his knees, places his forearms on Iruka’s spread thighs. He continues holding Iruka’s cock with one hand, stroking where his mouth can’t reach and keeping him from jerking up into Kakashi’s throat. With his newly freed hand, though, he cups Iruka’s balls and presses his thumb just barely against Iruka’s hole.

“Love you, love you, oh-oh-ahh, so g-good, K’shi, fuck.”

That’s it. That’s it, Love.

He lets Iruka thrust into his mouth just the barest amount, knowing unfortunately that he’ll choke if he lets Iruka take what he wants but also. Also, gods, Iruka is panting and moaning and it’s driving Kakashi higher and higher.

“Want. Oh. Kakashi, Love, wanna come with you,” Iruka taps at his shoulder, “Please, please come up here and kiss me.”

He lets Iruka go, swallows the last bitter traces of precome on his tongue, and crawls up Iruka’s body. Iruka takes him by the face and pulls him the rest of the way to his mouth, kissing and nipping at his lips and groaning all the while.

“Why,” Iruka mutters into his mouth,”are you still wearing your underwear?”

“Good question.” Kakashi licks into his mouth and continues kissing him, fingers his nipples, rocks their hips together—

“Off. Get them off,” Iruka whines.

“But then I’d have to stop touching you.”

“You can take three seconds to strip.”

Kakashi sits back and shoves his underwear down his thighs. The cool air on his dick is a shock, but not as much as watching Iruka reach for his own cock and begin to touch himself.

Kakashi stops to watch.

His fingertips glide along the underside, up and down and up and—they stop and Iruka takes himself in a light grip, swirling his thumb against the tip while his other hand drifts to his chest to pinch and tweak at his own nipple.

Iruka licks his lips, moans brokenly, and says, “Are you going to make me do this myself, or are we doing this together?”

He fumbles the rest of the way out of his underwear, saying, “I. Well.” He settles back, kneeling between Iruka’s thighs and watching his hand move and his chest heave. “Gods, Iruka, I could come from this.”

“Watching me?”

“You have no idea. How godsdamn sexy you are right now.”

Iruka’s blush is sweet and gorgeous.

“Want us,” he pants. “Want you.”

Kakashi leans back down and kisses him, deep and lovingly, pressing their bodies together, hips to navel to chest. Iruka’s arms encircle his neck and keep him close, keep them kissing. He reaches between them for Iruka’s cock and takes him in hand again, pumping his hand carefully.

Iruka shakes his head. “Together, Kakashi, please.”

He shivers. “I won’t last,” he murmurs.

“Don’t care. Wanna feel you.”

So Kakashi leans up on his elbow, adjusts his hips and pushes his own cock alongside Iruka’s into the circle of his hand and they both sigh and moan and Iruka begs him to move—

“K’shi, please, please, I’m so close, just—little more, please!”

Kakashi ruts, smoothing precome along their cocks with his palm and easing the friction. Iruka’s leaking steadily but Kakashi’s pulsing, damp squirts from his tip with each thrust. His eyes are shut tight and his lips are parted and kiss-bruised.

“You. You’re so beautiful,” Kakashi whispers.

And Iruka comes. Splashes of come slip over his hand, pooling on his stomach and chest. Kakashi stills his hand to feel the pulse of Iruka’s cock against his own and it’s glorious. His jaw drops in an almost silent cry, interrupted only by soft Ah-ah-ahh as he pants. And when he starts to come down, Iruka moans and gasps, “So good K’shi,” and then.

And then he opens his eyes, just the barest amount, and says, “You too. Come for me, Love.”

Like he could resist. Kakashi’s hand doesn’t even move again, still gently holding them both; he comes on command, adding to the mess on Iruka’s belly as his hips rut against Iruka’s.

His mouth is dry and his throat aches when he comes back to himself. Iruka is holding him against his chest, the mess mostly wiped away by a corner of the blanket. Kakashi nuzzles into Iruka’s neck, breathes him in, and relishes the soft touches to his back and arms.

“Move in with me.”

Kakashi opens his eye and picks up his head. Iruka is staring at the ceiling, like he’s not sure how Kakashi's going to respond.

As if there’s any other response he could give.

“Alright.”

“I just thought, y’know, you’re here all the time anyway, and I miss you when—” Iruka looks down at Kakashi and furrows his brow, saying, “Wait. Alright?”

Kakashi smiles. “Alright.”

“You. You’ll live here. With me.”

“I would love to.”

Iruka frowns, turning his gaze away from him and instead to the wall. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m realizing that,” Kakashi chuckles.

“I expected to have to convince you.”

“Convince me? To live with the love of my life? To live with the man who makes me bad omelettes but perfect pancakes? To live with you, who makes sure my weapons are sharp and designs seals and tags specifically for my use?”

“Kakashi…”

“I’d get to live with the same man who opened up his heart and his home to my sensei’s son, who the rest of the village had turned their back on, and showed him what love is with no desire for reciprocation or payment. You just. Did.”

“Gods, love, stop.”

Kakashi does. Because that word is important and he won’t tarnish it by disrespecting it. But he could go on. And on. And on.

But Iruka smiles and kisses him again and says, “Okay. We’ll get you moved in tomorrow?”

Because it’s getting late.

And he’s home.

#whumpmasinjuly #final prompt #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

12 notes · View notes

freedom-of-writing · 3 years

Text

Life turned her that way

Just a nice heart to heart between Nicole and Wynonna taking place after the intervention at the beginning of episode 4x10

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No, you have to go.”

Nicole leaves the house with a heavy heart. Today’s her first day back as sheriff. She didn’t think she had it in her to walk in those shoes again. In the past, her uniform had always made her feel strong and in control, but for 18 months all she could feel was alone, and completely lost. Wynonna went into the Garden to save Waverly, and Doc, while she had to go home, alone and broken. Literally broken. And, yes, it’s true, she wasn’t actually alone, Rachel was with her. But half her family was gone. And then Black Badge showed up, Nedley disappeared, and Jeremy went MIA. Little by little, she’d lost everything: her job, her dignity, her hope. Her heart. Waverly Earp was her heart, and she was beginning to fear she’d lost her forever. At last, she was so afraid of losing Rachel as well that she put all her strength into protecting her, to the point that it was consuming her. Growing up she had always been a loner. She was used to being independent, but here in Purgatory she had finally found a team to work and fight with. And yet in that moment, she was all alone against the world. Again. She had nobody to talk to about the darkness inside her, because Rachel was still just a kid, who’d gone through a lot herself, and she didn’t want her to deal with her own shit as well. In the end, she was so blinded by fear and despair that she couldn’t even see it was Nedley she’d been haunting for so long. And she even traded Doc to the Clantons to get Waverly back. She knew he would’ve been able to take care of himself, he always does, but still. If she weren’t so desperate, she would’ve looked for some more options for sure. She’s not the type to betray her friends and family like that. But 18 months is a long time to be alone. And she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t sleep anymore. She could barely live. The only thing keeping her going was Rachel. That kid was the only reason to get out of bed every morning, and not let herself slip away.

Nicole is about to get into her car to go to the station, when she hears some noises coming from the barn. For a second she tells herself that Wynonna needs time, and she should just leave her alone. But then a voice inside her head makes her change her mind. You might lose her again, and you didn’t even try. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she walks to the barn door, and knocks lightly calling for her friend.

“Wynonna…”

“Get back to your perfect life, Haught!” A voice answers from the inside in a very harsh tone.

Nicole ignores it, and lets herself in. Screw time, she is not going to risk losing her best friend again, not when she can try and save her. Once she’s in, she finds Wynonna sitting on her bed and playing with a bullet in her hands.

“Perfect… if you really think my life is perfect, then you don’t know me at all.”

“What do you want from me, huh?” Wynonna tries to sound annoyed, but the emotion in her voice makes her sound more broken than anything. “I thought me storming out was a clear sign of ‘intervention’s over’.”

“Wynonna, we’re just worried about you...”

“Well, you can stop worrying now because I’m fine.” The small crack in her voice made her sound all but convincing.

“Sure you are…” Nicole says with a scoff as she moves to sit on the bed next to Wynonna.

“Can you just leave, please?” Wynonna begs in the smallest of voices as tears come streaming down her face.

Nicole looks at her for a moment, and then she turns to stare at somewhere in front of her. She takes a deep breath, gathering the strength to say what she’s about to say. It’s a secret she’s been keeping from everybody, even Waverly. But maybe talking about it could help both her and Wynonna. Ignoring her friend’s request, she starts speaking.

“I wake up every day in the middle of the night and have to check on Waverly and Rachel to see if they’re still with me. I even check on you most nights.” She pauses a second, waiting for Wynonna’s reaction. She expected her to say something mean, or to tell her to leave again, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t need to turn towards her to see that her words have gotten Wynonna’s attention, and she’s now looking at her. Taking that as an invitation to continue, she takes a deep breath and she resumes her tale. “One night it was 4am and you weren’t in your bed… I panicked so bad I couldn’t breathe. Then I looked better and saw you were passed out on the floor in a corner of the barn. I didn’t want to wake you, so I got the blanket from your bed to cover you up, and then, I put the pillow under your head. The truth is, you were so out of it, I don’t think a bomb could’ve waken you. But my heart was racing so bad, my hands were shaking, and it was still hard for me to breathe. So I left you there on the floor, and went back to sleep. Well, to bed. I forced myself to stay awake. I just didn’t want to see it again.” Nicole’s voice is so small and broken when she says that last part.

Wynonna doesn’t need to see the look in her eyes to know Nicole’s lost somewhere in her mind. And by the sound of her voice, it must be a really dark place that she’s in. All of a sudden, a rush of worry hits her, because she’s never seen Nicole like this. Not even when she was vomiting frogs all over the place.

“How bad is Nicole?”

“She was alone for a really long time.”

As she recalls Rachel’s words, her attention moves from Nicole’s face down to her hand on her thigh. It’s curled up in a fist, and her nails are digging hard into the flesh of her palm. As gently as she can, Wynonna slips her hand under her friend’s forcing her own fingers into the fist. She waits for Nicole to let go of the tight grip, and when she does she clasps her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. She would like to say something to bring her friend back to reality, but she doesn’t know what to say. She has absolutely no idea what is happening inside her head, or what she meant when she said she didn’t want to see it again. But at least the touch seems to have worked because she can feel Nicole squeezing back lightly. Wynonna doesn’t push her to continue, she just waits for her to be ready to speak again. At last, with a deep breath, Nicole goes on with her story.

“I have the same nightmare every night... I’m at the homestead, it’s morning and I’m making breakfast. I go upstairs to wake Rachel up, but she’s not in her room. So I start calling out for her, but I get no answer. I start panicking as I look for her in every room of the house. But I can’t find her anywhere. She’s not there. It’s just me. I’m alone. By then, I can hardly breathe, but I still take the shotgun and start looking for her outside. I don’t know where I’m going. My eyes are blurred with tears, and my lungs are burning, but I keep running, and calling... And then suddenly I’m on Dolls’s grave. I take a step back in confusion, and I see there are other tombstones next to his. I start reading the names: you, Doc, Jeremy, Nedley... I’m afraid to look but there’s two more. Rachel... and Waverly. Then a voice comes out of nowhere: They’re all dead because you were too weak to even try to save them. They trusted you, and you did nothing to protect them. You deserve to be alone. You were never worthy of their love. I turn to see where it’s coming from, but... all I see are the ghosts of the people I love. But when I take a step towards you, you all disappear. All but Waverly. She stands there, looking at me with tears in her eyes. Why? I thought you loved me... So why didn’t you fight? She asks, and then she’s gone too.” Nicole becomes suddenly aware of the wetness on her cheeks.

“Nicole...” Wynonna tries to call her back to reality. She can hear her ragged breathing as she’s struggling to get air into her lungs. She’s never seen Nicole so broken before, and it is scaring her. She doesn’t know what to do, how to help, she’s usually the broken one.

“You’re all dead because of me...” Nicole’s voice is barely above a whisper, but Wynonna hears it loud and clear, and those words break her heart.

That’s it. She has to bring her back. She can’t take seeing her best friend like this anymore. Without letting go of Nicole’s hand, she falls onto her knees in front of her. Then she brings her free hand up to her chin to tilt her head up gently.

“Nicole, hey, look at me.” Nothing.

“Haught!” She screams this time, and at last, Nicole snaps out of it. “We’re not dead. Do you hear me? No one. Is dead.” She says staring straight into Nicole’s eyes, which are completely welled up in tears.

As gently as she can, she brushes her thumb onto her cheeks to wipe away the tears that keep streaming down her face. She can feel the tears forming in her eyes as well, but she doesn’t let them fall. She can’t cry now. Nicole needs her to be strong.

“We’re here.” Wynonna says grabbing both of Nicole’s hands and giving them a squeeze. She hopes the touch will further prove her words. “I’m here.”

She takes a sigh of relief when she sees Nicole’s eyes starting to focus on hers. She’s back.

“You can breathe now.”

And with that, Nicole slumps forward into Wynonna’s arms, sobbing hard in the crook of her neck. Everything she’s been holding back in the past 18 months, the pain, the loss, the fear, the despair... all that she’s been hiding from both Waverly and Rachel has finally come to the surface. And it’s the strangest feeling ever, because for the first time in so long, she can actually breathe again, even if the sobs are wrecking and chocking her.

“I’m here. We’re all here.” Wynonna says over and over in her ear in an attempt to calm her down.

And it is in that moment, as she holds a broken Nicole in her arms, that Wynonna makes a promise to herself and to her friends: no matter how hard it is, she will overcome this darkness inside her and she will start to take care of herself, because her family is worth staying for.

“We’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

#Wynonna Earp #nicole haught #wynhaught #wynaught #fan fiction #fanfic #angst #4x10

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omnivorousshipper · 3 years

Note

Request Friday: I think you’ve done similar stories but my mind was thinking arranged marriage + Pirate King Luke with a glorious beard. Maybe Mama Shaw wants to smuggle her goods via the pirate king’s fleet and to broker a relationship between them she offers her eldest?

I’ve just got the mental image of Luke dripping in gold and jewels, sitting fiercely on his throne cutting quite the figure when Deckard is escorted into the room to help sway negotiations and Luke is captivated—wants nothing more than to wrap him in silks and jewels, spoil him utterly rotten. Owen isn’t happy about their mum’s plans for Deck but is distracted by Pirate Captain Roman (I’m sure an absurd nickname)!cutting quite the figure.

Hattie decked out in swashbuckling gear, threatening idiots with her sword/daggers/gun when they try to hit on her. (A deadlier Elizabeth Swan)

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FRIEND!

I have such a weak spot for Luke beard, especially when it's salt and pepper. And omg, Deckard given up as a sacrifice is hilarious

And Hattie as Elizabeth Swan??? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP

~~~

Looking over several papers, Queenie Shaw narrowed her eyes at them. The numbers weren't adding up to what she had been hoping for

She would have to go with her backup plan

Sighing, she waved on of her servants out front the corner she had been quietly embroidering in. The woman lifted her skirts in a curtsey as she bowed

"Please bring my daughter to me." Queenie said in a clipped tone

"Right away, madam." The woman scurried out of the room, barely making any noise

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Queenie knew what she need to do, but it all relied on what she could convince of her children

Glancing out of the large windows, Queenie could hear the laughter of the servants' children. Looking at the clock, Queenie knew it was the normal time Deckard would sit them down for a lesson

She never really understood his want to teach them how to read. Even their parents didn't know

After a few minutes of listening to the soft murmur of voices outside in the gardens, the door to her office finally opened to reveal the servant gesturing Hattie inside

Queenie couldn't help the prideful smile that spread across her face as she took her daughter in

Hattie looked like a right pirate

"Something the matter, mum?" She asked, throwing herself into a seat and leaning back provocatively. Any other lady would have yelled at her scandalous behavior. Queenie simply raised an eyebrow

"I wanted your opinion on a matter." Queenie said slowly. "What are your thoughts on the pirate king?"

"Hobbs?"

"Yes."

"He's an alright bastard." Hattie said thoughtfully. "Looks after his people and keeps them in line when need be. He's cutthroat but fair. Why are you asking about him?"

"Because I want to strike up a deal with him."

"What kind of deal?" Hattie asked slowly, eyed narrowed in suspicion

"Trade has been going down recently. Too many imperial arseholes sticking their noses in my trade routes recently, causing them to dry up. I need new routes and the only ones I can find are through Hobbs' territory."

"Thats a lot of risk for him to take, he won't do that for cheap." Hattie looked over her mother carefully. "What are you planning on giving him? He'll need more than money."

"I know." Queenie nodded. Leaning back, she crossed her arms and fixed her daughter with a careful look

"What?"

"Hobbs is a widower, correct?"

"Yes? Mum, if you think I would ever-"

"Not you." Queenie cut her off quickly with a sharp gesture. "Deckard."

"Mum!" Hattie yelped. "You can't just sell him like some kind of mare!"

"I'm not!" Queenie hissed

"Then what are you doing?" Hattie snapped. "Because if you think Hobbs will let him leave, you're dead wrong! Pirates are selfish mum!"

"I'm assuming you know from experience?" Queenie drawled, purposely looking her daughter up and down

"Yes." Hattie met her eyes and glared. "Yoi are not shoving my brother into some arranged marriage."

Queenie met her gaze evenly

"And what if I told you that if we don't get those trade routes, all that I have built will crumb?"

"What?" Hattie blinked at her

Queenie didn't look happy to reveal what she said next

"We need to keep our illegal dealings going, but the empire and the king's men have started to notice. If they do, they'll come after our whole family. I can't let that happen, Hatts."

"But, Deck-"

"Can slit Hobbs' throat in a few years if it comes to that."

Hattie's face twisted in discomfort

"I don't want to send him into that, mum."

"I know dear." Queenie sighed. "And that's why I want you and Oh to escort Deckard there yourselves."

Hattie looked out the window, where Queenie had been looking out earlier

"Think we could convince Deck to wear his favorite dress to meet Hobbs?"

"Doubtful. He only wears them in our presence." Queenie chuckled, but felt her heart clench

Their family's business might thrive, but would her son?

---

Sitting on his throne, Luke played with a gold coin as he listened to the squabbles of lower ranked pirates. Head rested in his other hand, Luke couldn't wait for the pirate court to be called to a stop

Just another reason he wished Jonah had become the pirate king. Luke would rather he be the one sailing across the seas every day with his crew and daughter

But no, he was trapped helping other pirates deal with their own shit

Deciding to just take one pirate's side for no particular reason, Luke was interrupted by a party of three people walking into the hall

Luke peered at them closely

He only really recognized one of them

Hattie Shaw was one of the cruelest and efficient pirates Luke has seen in over a decade. She ran a tight ship and was fear by every sailor that came across her. Too bad she still held ties to her family, or else Luke would have asked her to join his fleet a long time ago

Standing next to her were two men. Neither really screamed pirate like Hattie did, instead they were in plain clothes. But it didn't hide the weapons on the taller man, who was practically hovering over the smaller man protective

But it was that smaller man Luke couldn't take his eyes off

He was absolutely gorgeous

The candlelight seemed to soften his harsh expression and enhanced how sharp his cheekbones were. He held himself with a sense of dignity, even when wearing a plain white shirt and black trousers

No. The man deserved to be covered in gold and jewels. He should be wrapped in the finest silk and laid on the softest sheets

Luke mentally went through the many pieces of stolen jewelry he had that he could drape over the man. He had a large diamond necklace, almost collar like, that would suit the man perfectly

Lost to his fantasies, Luke felt someone poke his shoulder. Looking up, Luke sheepishly met the harsh glare Letty was sending him

"What's your decree, King Luke?" She said through clenched teeth. Luke had a feeling she'd been trying to get his attention for a while

"You." Luke pointed at random between the two feuding pirates. "You were in the right. Whatever it is, you get it."

With a wave of his hand, Luke dismissed them and didn't care if he had been right or not

"You three!" Luke called out, staring at Hattie and the two men. "Come forward and speak your piece."

Luke could hear the irritated hiss Letty let out. Probably upset that he let people cut the line

Too bad, he was a pirate and would do what he wanted

With her chin held high, Hattie led the two men towards them. As they enter more of the candlelight, Luke couldn't keep his eyes off the smaller man

If it was possible, he looked even more attractive closer up

Luke already knew which golden bracelets would adorn the man's arms

"What brings you here, Shaw?" Luke asked curiously. "Usually you don't need anything from me."

"Not usually, no." Hattie said, her face serious. "But, my mother has a proposal for you."

"Go on."

"You allow her transport ships through your waters."

"And for me?"

"My brother's hand in marriage."

Luke sat up eagerly

And felt like the luckiest man on earth when the smaller man pushed past the other man and closer to Luke

He held his head up as he met Luke's eyes in a challenge

Luke smiled, showing all of his teeth

"I accept."

---

The words seemed to ring out in the large hall

And echoed inside of Deckard's head, making his ears ring

What?

With wide eyes, Deckard stared up at the pirate king who simply leaned back into his throne

He didn't want to admit it, but the image had Deckard salivating

Luke Hobbs was a large man with muscles bigger than Deckard's head, and they shown beautifully in the candlelight, along with the gold that hung off his body

His powerful arms were free of cloth and had gold arm bands with blue rocks embedded in them. Deckard couldn't help but stare at the sight

"You may wait in my chambers while I discuss the details with your sister." Hobbs told him, breaking Deckard out of his staring

Blinking, Deckard wanted to glare at the man for dismissing him so easily, but he held his tongue

Especially when he saw the heated look the king was sending him

Deckard felt himself blush heavily. It was as if the man was undressing him simply by staring at him

A woman broke away from the crowd watching the proceedings

"I'll take him there, Luke." She said, bowing her head slightly

"Thank you, Ramsey."

Looking over at the woman, Deckard found himself relaxing slightly at her smile

Maybe being married off to a pirate wouldn't be the worst thing in the world

---

Owen frowned as he watched Deckard be escorted away from them. He wanted to follow after them, but the firm grip Hattie had on his arm told him not to

Grinding his teeth, Owen stayed put as Hattie dragged them towards a corner of the hall

Hobbs would discuss their contract further once he was done with the court

"I don't like this. It shouldn't be this easy." Owen hissed

"Maybe it can be." Hattie whispered back. "Now quiet."

Leaning against the wall, Owen watched the court carefully to gain any information

And soon found his attention on one pirate specifically

And can you really blame him, when the pirate's name was Roman 'Barnacle Whisperer' Pearce?

That was a story Owen wanted to get his hands on. And maybe the man himself

---

Stepping into a huge, lavish room, Deckard swallowed thickly. Was this really where Hobbs slept? Even Deckard's rooms at home weren't this big!

He heard the door close as Ramsey left him alone to admire everything. Sitting on a lavish couch, Deckard took a deep breath

No doubt in a few days Deckard would be married to the man who owned all this

It was a little overwhelming

Lost in thought, Deckard jumped when he heard the door open again. And revealed a small girl

Deckard met her curious gaze

"Who are you?" She asked

"Deckard."

"Are you a friend of my dad?"

"Kind of." Deckard coughed. He could only assume she meant Hobbs

"What're you doing here?"

"Waiting for him."

"Want to wait together?"

"I'd love the company." Deckard smile and was pleased to see the girl smile back. "And what's your name?"

"Sam." She skipped over to him and looked him over. "You look really plain."

Deckard blinked at her. And looked over the jewels and gold she was wearing. Definitely Hobbs' daughter

"Dad wouldn't mind if you wore a few things of his." Sam smiled at him and grabbed his hand. "Come on."

Frowning, Deckard let Sam pull him further into the rooms

---

Entering his chambers, Luke let out a sigh

He hated haggling deals. Especially when it came to two overly protective siblings. At least Owen Shaw had been distracted by Roman

Looking around the front room, Luke frowned. Where was the third Shaw, Deckard?

For a moment, Luke was scared Ramsey had taken him for herself. But as he listened closely, he could hear laughter from his bedroom

Quietly walking towards the room, Luke could hear Sam's voice

"You look so pretty!"

"Thank you, as do you." A man's voice responded

Luke could clearly hear the joy in both of their voices. Poking his head into the room, Luke felt his heart skip a beat

Sam was kneeling on a chair as she rummaged through his chest of jewels, while Deckard Shaw stood next to her and allowed her to dress him any jewelry she didn't wear herself

Luke's eyes immediately zeroed in on the diamond collar around Deckard's neck

Looked like Sam had had the same idea

Deckard Shaw would be theirs

Leaning against the doorway, Luke stayed quiet as he watched his future husband and daughter

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!!

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #owen shaw #hattie shaw #hobbs and shaw #pirate au #asks #omni answers #omni writes

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themadlostgirl · 4 years

Text

Abandoned (3)

*Finals are almost over! That has nothing to do with this chapter I’m just happy.*

~~~

It had been several days since Pan had left me with that sack of food and the news that my father had traded me away for freedom. I refused to believe it though. It was a lie. It was a lie to get me to stop believing in papa.

The music from Pan’s pipes could take my memories but that didn’t mean I was going to let them go without a fight. I wrote down everything I could remember. I sang shanties every night over the sound of Pan’s music. Tonight was no different. What I sang wasn’t a shanty though. It was something much softer.

“My young love said to me, "My mother won't mind, and my father won't slight you for your lack of kind." And she stepped away from me, and this she did say,” I struggled with the next line, it was right there on the tip of my tongue, “And this she did say...she did say…”

“Ugh!” I flopped back against the sand, “What did she say?”

Papa sang this to me every night when I was little. Or was it every time I had a nightmare? Everything is getting so hard to remember. Did papa sing it to me at all or was it a song one of the others on the ship sang? Or maybe it was a song I had heard at a festival or maybe a tavern?

It feels useless. I can’t even remember the next line of a song!

I pulled the pocketwatch from my pocket and stared at the unmoving hands. Pan’s unwanted words started to echo in my head.

You really do not want to face the truth do you?

No.

You wanna know how I know that he isn’t coming back for you? How I know he abandoned you here?

It’s another lie. Another trick.

He left because I told him to.

Papa wouldn’t abandon me. Papa wouldn’t trade me away!

Adults are so disappointing, especially parents. Selfish enough to sell their own children off to make their lives easier.

“Papa, please,” I whispered to the night air, “Please come back. I know you didn’t leave me here on purpose. You’re gonna come back but it needs to be soon. Please papa...I miss you.”

A soft melody broke through my quiet sobs. I turned around and stared into the jungle. I could practically see the notes floating out from the darkness and wrapping around me. I stood to my feet. Letting the music take me closer to the jungle’s edge.

I followed the song into the jungle. It was trance like but not in the way it had been before. I was more conscious of what I was doing. Choosing to follow it instead of letting myself slip completely under its spell.

After a while I could make out the glow of the bonfire in the distance. The music was coming from the camp as I knew it would be. I could just walk in. Pan had said that I would be welcome. I could join the boys dancing around the fire. I could sit and listen to their stories. We could play games. We could have fun. We could be a family…

Family.

I don’t remember much about about my family. I do remember one thing though. Papa taking me above deck the day after mama died. We stood before the crew and he said that though one of us had fallen it did not mean we were alone. We were a family by more than just blood. We were a family by choice. That was a bond stronger than blood.

Where was that bond now? Where was my family now?

The warmth drained out of me all at once and I stepped away from the camp. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from here!

I started running back through the darkness to get to my camp. I caught a movement out of place among the shadows and stumbled to a stop. There, calmly sitting under a tree and illuminated by a beam of moonlight was Pan. His eyes closed. Was he asleep? Why so far from camp? Why was he out here by himself? He had just been at the camp, hadn’t he?

This was my chance! I crept closer keeping as quiet as I could as I came up behind him. He did not stir. His even measured breaths assuring me he was fast asleep. The music ended tonight. Keeping my grip tight I knocked him on the head as hard as I could with the hilt of my sword. Papa or maybe it was mama always did that to knock people out when they were down.

I kicked him lightly with my foot to make sure he was really out of it then went about looking for his pipes or anything else useful. There was nothing. No pipes. No beans. Not even lint in his pocket!

Fine. If I can’t get rid of the music I can at least get rid of him! I grabbed his arms and started dragging him back to my camp. I silently prayed that he’d stay unconscious long enough for me to get him back which by some miracle he did. I grabbed a length of rope and tied his hands behind his back and bound his legs together. I also wrapped a scarf around his mouth for some personal satisfaction. No big words were coming out of his mouth now.

After I was sure he was secure I hauled him into the rowboat and took either oar in hand. My single person rowing was not the best and the added weight didn’t make it any easier but I had already come too far. I rowed us out until we were in deeper waters. Being out here at night with the mermaids wasn’t the smartest decision I had ever made but I wasn’t in the mood for making smart decisions.

I sat there in the rocking boat staring at the unconscious demon across from me. The moon was bright and full casting everything in pale light. I could make out mermaids bobbing in and out of the water closer to shore. They didn’t seem to be moving any closer. Perhaps they were waiting to see what would happen. So was I.

What was I supposed to do now? Killing him would be the obvious thing to do after all the grief he has put me through. Running him through while he was still unconscious wasn’t right though. Bad form. He deserved to look his death in the eye.

I cupped some water and tossed it in his face to wake him up. He groaned as his eyes cracked open. Then they widened some more as his situation became more clear. He pulled at the ropes binding him but to no avail. He glared at me and tried to talk around his gag.

“Sorry? Have something to say?” I asked, enjoying the irritation on his face.

He continued to grumble until I decided to let him have some final words. I pulled the gag down out of his mouth.

“Why thank you,” He rolled his eyes, “I haven’t been bound and gagged in so long. What’s the occasion?”

“To victory.”

“Mine or yours.” He quirked an eyebrow up at me.

“Isn’t it obvious,” I gestured to the situation, “Out of the two of us which one isn’t being held prisoner?”

“Prisoner? Is that what you think of me, swordfish? I thought this was a bit of fun between friends.”

“We’re not friends. We never have been and we never will be.”

“Never is an awfully long time. You sure you can resist me for that long? I am a lot of fun when you get to know me.”

“I think I know you well enough. Also, I won’t have to resist much longer since I can kill you at any moment. The mermaids are wading nearby and I’m sure they’d love a late night snack.”

“You brought chum for them? That’s awfully sweet for a hoard of bloodthirsty half-fish.”

“Will you stop.” I pointed my dagger at him, “Stop acting like you don’t care. I understand wanting to go to your death with dignity but you can’t be so flippant about it. Look at the situation. This is where you will die. Don’t you care?”

“Oh no, I do care. I care very much and I am impressed by this whole scene you’ve created. Job well done. I’d clap if my hands weren’t tied behind my back.”

“You are really just an ass, aren’t you?”

“Part of my charm.” he winked at me, “Please, proceed, I wanna hear where you’re gonna take this next.”

“I said to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Denying your situation. This cannot be having no impact on you.” I grabbed him by the collar, “So stop making fun of me!”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Tied up and at my mercy?”

“Obviously. Did you really think it would have been this easy? To sneak up on me and subdue me so easily? To drag me out here without any of my boys noticing?”

“You’re saying that you let me kidnap you?”

“How else would we have gotten here?”

“No. No! I beat you! You’re just trying to turn the situation around so it looks like you have the upperhand when you know I have you cornered! I beat you!”

“Of course you did. You beat me entirely. Here I am, tied up and at your complete mercy. There’s no conceivable way this could be in my favor.”

“Then why are you talking like it is?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Pan!”

“Let’s look at the facts here, spitfire. You snuck up on me, knocked me unconscious, dragged my limp unconscious body through the jungle back to your camp, tied me up, put me in a boat, rowed me out into the middle of the ocean, and then woke me up to lord your victory over me.”

“And?”

“Do you not see the game you’re playing. I told you once before you don’t want to kill me and here is the proof.”

“All I have to do is stab you through the heart.”

“Yes. So why haven’t you done it yet?”

The realization rocked through me like a tidal wave.

“You had multiple opportunities to. You could have run me through back in the jungle. But then you dragged me through the jungle. You could have killed me when we got back to your camp. You could have thrown me over the side of the boat to drown after you hauled me all tied up in here. You could stab me any moment you choose but still your blade stays holstered. Why do you think that is? You’re bored, swordfish. You are so utterly bored and this game between us is the only thing keeping you from hurling yourself off Dead Man’s Peak. We both know it. You won’t kill me because I am the most fun you’ve had in years! You may not like it but the truth can be hard to swallow.”

I grabbed my dagger and poised it over his heart. “I am going to kill you. I am going to stab this blade through your heart and watch the life drain out of your eyes!”

“Do it then!” He shouted, “Do it! Kill me!”

“I will!” My grip on the handle tightened.

“Come on, do it.” He urged, “Do it! Do it!”

“I--I--” My hand started to shake. “AH!” I stabbed the blade into the wood of the boat.

I couldn’t do it. Why couldn’t I do it?

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, precious.” I felt a hand run through my hair. The ropes binding Pan had fallen away and he had inched forward to pet my head. “It was a good effort. You certainly kept me on my toes and I can say that this has been the most fun I’ve had in ages. But really, do not worry about not being able to kill me. It’s a big thing taking someone’s life, especially for the first time. Although, I would have been very happy to be your first victim if you had the courage to go through with it.”

“Don’t patronize me.” I slapped his hand away. “You could get out the entire time. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was having fun. Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?”

“What kind of pirate am I that I can’t kill the one person who has given me the most grief?”

“You’re not a pirate, Lady Jones. You’re a Lost Girl.” He held out a hand, “And I am not the one who has caused you your greatest grief. We both know who is really to blame for that.”

I stared at the hand stretched out towards me. A ball of emotion caught in my throat. “He really left me...didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath and pulled the pocketwatch papa had gifted me so long ago. I opened it up and stared at the inscription. Those unwilling to fight for what they want deserve what they get. “So much of a fight you put up for me.”

I snapped it closed and threw it into the ocean as far as I could.

“I’ll row us back to shore, shall I?” Pan said after a long lapse of silence.

I sat back down staring numbly at my toes as Pan rowed us back to shore. Not a word was uttered. When we got back to shore I sat down at my camp. The only place I felt safe for I don’t even remember how long anymore. It didn’t bring me any calm this time though. All around were reminders. Mementos of a life I was forced out of by the one person I trusted most.

“Precious,” Pan knelt next to me, “You don’t have to stay out here alone anymore. Come back to camp with me.”

I turned to look at him and saw the way he almost flinched when he stared into my eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, I would much rather be alone right now.”

“Of course…” He stood up again, “You know where to go if you change your mind.”

It felt like there was something more he wanted to say but he kept it to himself. I waited until long after he left before any composure I had left me and I sunk into the sand huddling in on myself. Short muffled sobs escaping me as the last dregs of my hope were drowned.

Papa wasn’t coming back for me.

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